Adaptation Period (1)
Marei de Pawen’s arrival time at school was far earlier than that of the average student. After spending the entire night wrapped in female bodies, he woke not with exhaustion but with boundless energy surging through every limb. Even when he did sleep, it amounted to no more than a few dozen minutes. He would drift off late at night surrounded by soft flesh, awaken to a faint throb of release, and—whether on the bed, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, or finally at the front door—freely pour thick loads of semen deep into his adoptive mother’s and Idrien’s wombs, yet still reach the academy at an impressively early hour. This was true even though the school lay within easy walking distance.
It was also due to Labella’s strict educational policy. She was determined to raise her son as a model of diligence and integrity, which meant mornings began even sooner. Ilien, who understood the hierarchy between them with perfect clarity, restrained herself somewhat at home under Labella’s watchful eye. Still, on these early commutes she had tailed Marei several times—once to entwine with him heatedly in the research lab, another to be taken like a bitch in the woods behind the faculty building, howling shamelessly. It had nearly become habit. But Labella, who saw straight through Idrien’s cunning schemes, had “released” Ilien outside the house for a while (in Ilien’s own dramatic phrasing, she had kicked her pet out). Thanks to that, even when they left home at similar times, Marei could reach the classroom quickly.
Whether because the class was unpopular or because he had arrived far too early, the lecture hall was completely empty. An inexplicable eeriness clung to the space, something sticky and unsettling rather than merely desolate. Marei shivered, unable to pinpoint the source of the discomfort.
“Ah, there you are~? Master~ I missed you so much~”
The familiar voice reached him at the same moment a soft, heavy weight pressed against his back. Marei tilted his head upward into the pleasant plushness and met the gaze of the person embracing him.
“Good morning, Ilien.”
“Hehe… Shouldn’t I give a reward to a student who arrives so early?”
Ilien’s eyes sparkled like a puppy reunited with her beloved owner. She lowered her head and pressed her lips to the young boy’s mouth. Her tongue slid out naturally, letting thick, sweet saliva trickle inside. Marei allowed her playful, tickling tongue to roam freely, licking every corner of his mouth. She was so adorable in her eagerness—lapping at his gums, the soft palate, his tongue, even between his teeth—that he gently stroked her cheek. She let out a tiny, delighted nasal whimper.
“Hehe… I really, really love you, Master. I’d like to do more, but… Professor Icher de Valentine is arriving a little earlier than usual. Here, these are the textbooks. Lady Labella probably prepared them, but I wanted to give you something of my own.”
No sound had announced anyone’s approach, yet Ilien smiled softly. Perhaps regretting that she couldn’t serve her Master longer, she kissed his lips, forehead, and cheeks several times before reluctantly peeling her clinging body away.
“Professor Icher’s and Professor Nagisa’s classes were postponed because of the Principality’s founding anniversary, so today is the first real lesson, right?”
Ilien’s sudden shift to casual speech felt slightly unfamiliar, but her friendly, teacher-like demeanor kept Marei from commenting. He simply nodded.
“Magical theory can be thought of as one large framework with minor variations. If you’re not pursuing the pinnacle of magic but seeking general understanding and everyday application, the fundamentals are essentially the same. However, very few people study black magic. Because society tends to reject it, learning it in an open setting like this is quite fortunate. Most black mages avoid appearing in public. So this is a good opportunity, wouldn’t you agree, Professor Icher?”
Ilien wore a faint smile as she looked toward the classroom door. A robed figure entered without any audible footsteps or detectable presence.
“Whether it’s fortunate or not, I cannot say. But it is not unfortunate, either. May I ask what brings you here, Professor Ilien?”
A soft, slightly low voice for a woman slipped out from beneath the hood. It wasn’t quite a mutter, but it was quiet enough that one needed to concentrate to catch every word.
“He’s a transfer student in our class! He’s a good, clever boy, so please teach him well~?”
Even in the face of Icher de Valentine’s cynical reply, Ilien merely chuckled. She ruffled Marei’s hair, encouraged him with a bright “You have to work hard, Marei,” and promptly left the classroom.
“I heard you are the Governor-General’s grandson, but I do not concern myself with such things. If you study properly, you will receive good grades. If you intend to simply pass the time, you will receive poor ones. Approach the class with sincerity.”
“Y-yes, ma’am!”
Icher de Valentine remained fully robed. Although there was still plenty of time before class officially began, she was already flipping through the teaching materials. Since she offered no conversation, Marei had nothing else to do. He opened the textbook Ilien had brought him. Post-it notes were stuck throughout, filled with neatly written tips and supplementary explanations in elegant handwriting. Knowing Ilien had prepared it as a devoted gift for her Master made it the perfect present to stir a young boy’s heart.
He had only been reading for what felt like a short while, savoring the thoughtful gift from his beloved pet, when Professor Valentine picked up a piece of chalk and began writing on the blackboard. Ilien’s notebook had described her as very shy, yet there was no trace of that now. Her voice was indeed quiet, but in an empty classroom the flaw barely registered.
“Have you ever studied black magic before? Or any other branch of magical theory?”
“I’ve taken classes in white magic and elemental magic… but I haven’t properly learned anything yet.”
The hooded Icher de Valentine gave a small nod. Marei wondered if it was uncomfortable, yet she began the lesson without removing her robe, as though it were perfectly natural. He gripped his writing utensils and began copying her notes into the notebook Labella had prepared.
“The definition of magic might most accurately begin as a concept opposed to divine power. Both achieve miracles impossible for the human body through mana or holy energy, and commonalities certainly exist. Nevertheless, the current academic consensus maintains a negative stance. In our school of black magic, we begin from the theory that divine power and magic are fundamentally the same, differing only in the entity from which power is borrowed.”
Icher de Valentine stretched out her hand and began drawing basic magical formulas and diagrams on the board. The chalk held between white long gloves moved across the surface without hesitation.
“Black magic has been persecuted for a long time because it placed divine power and mana on the same plane, resulting in a long history of oppression under the name of blasphemy. The public associates it with curses and unpleasant tales, yet in reality it possesses a longer history than elemental or white magic and can be considered the most perfectly systematized discipline in theoretical terms. Memorize the basic symbols and shapes I have written down.”
The class continued in this manner. The content progressed faster than expected. Marei struggled to keep up, frantically transcribing Icher de Valentine’s boardwork and explanations. She maintained a steady pace—neither too fast nor too slow. Before he knew it, break time had arrived.
“Defense against curses begins with a clear understanding of the concept of curses itself. This requires first accurately comprehending black magic… That is all for now. It is break time.”
The moment the break bell rang, Icher de Valentine left the classroom at once. The overwhelmingly dense lecture, which demanded an enormous amount of note-taking, finally paused. Marei let out a long sigh and stared at his notebook, which had been filled nonstop for the past hour. Just as Labella had warned, the material was far more difficult than at his previous school, and the volume was staggering. Realizing this was what high school classes were truly like, he sighed again, determined to work harder.
Suddenly the classroom door burst open and a student rushed in.
“H-has the professor arrived yet?”
It was someone he had never seen before. When the boy asked about Icher de Valentine’s whereabouts and Marei nodded, the newcomer clutched his hair and groaned loudly.
“Ugh… Looks like I’ll have to retake the course… This is bad. Ah, hello. I’m Long Nungwen. We’re in the same class, so please take care of me.”
“Hello. I’m Marei de Pawen.”
“I was late today because of some personal matters… Was the professor very angry?”
“She didn’t seem particularly upset.”
“That’s a relief.” Long Nungwen muttered, then—apparently quite sociable—immediately struck up a conversation. “Is this your first time taking Professor Icher de Valentine’s class?”
“Ah, yes. It is.”
“You must have been surprised that she keeps her robe on the whole time, right?”
Marei nodded. He had seen mages wearing robes outdoors, but indoors they usually removed them. They were stuffy and cumbersome, after all. From what he had heard from mages in Valter, wearing the traditional robe was simply a matter of custom, and most found the question awkward.
“It’s just a rumor, but they say Professor Icher is a different race. She’s from the Principality, though apparently not a vampire. I wonder what race would make her hide herself so thoroughly…”
Long Nungwen drew out the end of his sentence. His unkempt brown hair fell to his shoulders, but his neat uniform kept him from looking sloppy. He gave off a strong free-spirited impression—the kind of person one instinctively wanted to befriend.
“…You are late, Long Nungwen. Do you have an excuse for your tardiness?”
Icher de Valentine’s voice, which had entered unnoticed, turned Long Nungwen’s face deathly pale. He looked terrified that she might have overheard their conversation.
“I-I’m sorry. There was… a small problem at home.”
“Then I will begin the lesson immediately. Since Marei de Pawen is a new student, I was reviewing the first lecture content. We will overlook your tardiness this once.”
Long Nungwen breathed a huge sigh of relief. His body remained rigidly tense and his face screamed disaster. Marei, unsure how to respond, could only focus on following Professor Icher de Valentine’s ongoing lecture.
Write. Write more. Memorize. Write again. The rapid pace left Marei struggling just to keep up. Before long another break arrived, and he spent it in light conversation with Long Nungwen, comparing notes.
Long Nungwen was the son of a noble family from the great southern forests. He had been dragged to Valter by his parents’ insistence. His interest in the unique curse techniques used by the beastkin races had led him to Icher’s class, but he complained that the lectures were far more theoretical and fast-paced than expected. Marei could only nod in sympathy.
Whether it was break time or class time, the hours passed quickly. Icher de Valentine assigned a simple homework task and left the classroom at once.
“Since the professor has left, I should get going too. See you next time, Pawen.”
As Long Nungwen stood and gathered his things, Marei could only offer a polite farewell. Even with hourly breaks, he could hardly believe the four-hour class was over. He let out a long sigh while staring at the dense notes.
“Difficult, isn’t it? Icher’s classes are notoriously brutal.”
At the voice beside him, Marei turned to find Philia sitting in the next seat with a mischievous smile.
“Ah, h-hello.”
“If you greet me so awkwardly, I’ll get sad…”
Seeing Marei stammer, Philia sighed softly. Then she grabbed both his cheeks and stretched them outward.
“Even if you skipped a grade, jumping straight into classes must be tough, right? Especially with Icher. She teaches exactly according to her prepared material, so she lacks flexibility.”
“Did you take Professor Icher’s class too, Philia?”
Philia shook her head. “We’re just personally acquainted.”
Covering her mouth as she chuckled, Philia grew interested in the notes Marei had taken. Her crimson eyes scanned the pages.
“Would you like to look?”
“Just a little. Excuse me.”
When she saw that twelve pages were densely packed with writing, Philia let out a small groan of disbelief. Yet she never took her eyes off the notebook, clearly intrigued. She flipped through silently until she reached a blank page and finally stopped.
“You really paid attention. Still, you didn’t need to write everything down… Well, given Icher’s personality, she probably won’t say anything, so it should be fine.”
“What brings you here, Philia?”
“Why? Is it burdensome when I visit? Aah, I’m joking, just joking. Don’t look at me with those teary eyes—you’ll make me feel like the villain. I simply came to have lunch together.”
Philia poked Marei’s cheek playfully, smiling faintly.
“Aren’t you busy with student council matters?”
“Aah, well… I am a little busy, but making time like this is no problem. By the way, who told you I’m on the student council?”
“The other kids in class mentioned it.”
Not bad. No, actually, that’s good. Philia nodded calmly.