Ahead of the Second Semester (1)

The second semester at Edelbein Academy was fast approaching.

It was the time of year when students who had returned to their family estates for the break came flooding back, making the plazas in front of the dormitories more bustling than ever.

"You're back early too?"

"Wait, you too?"

Though less than two months had passed, the students fell into eager conversation the moment they reunited, venting every piece of gossip they had accumulated over the holidays.

"Did you hear the rumors? They said there was some kind of explosion in the capital."

"Yeah, I heard! It was House Ospelt's vineyard, right?"

"I heard the Tollen Merchant Guild got dragged down by House Kundel. My father was supposed to close a deal with them, but when they didn't show up on the agreed date, he looked into it and found out what happened."

"Hey, look at this! My father bought me a new sword! It came straight from an artisan workshop, and the quality is just... wow."

"Have you been to Mortiis Boutique yet? Their new collection is so ridiculously gorgeous!"

Between trading news and flaunting new acquisitions, the students were buzzing with activity. While it might not have held quite the same breathless excitement as the first semester, everyone harbored high expectations for the term ahead.

Yet on the other side of that excitement lurked a deep, gnawing anxiety: course registration.

There were plenty of lectures available across the curriculum. But there was only one instructor whose classes everyone desperately wanted to take.

Namely, Ziel's electives.

...I have to get in this time too.

Deleb was already sweating bullets. Come hell or high water, he had to secure a seat in Instructor Ziel's classes. There were only two offered this semester.

"What's this? I thought he'd open at least three this time!" Celia's voice rang out as she suddenly materialized beside him.

Deleb instantly whipped the course catalog behind his back. "What the—when did you get here?"

"Just now. It's not like it's a secret, so why are you hiding it? The only real thief around here is someone else."

"Are you still harping on that? What did I even steal?"

"Oh, so it's the victim's fault for getting robbed, is that it? Whatever, it doesn't matter anymore. You probably don't know this, but I perfected my secret technique over break." Smugness radiated from Celia's face. "I polished it every single day during vacation. I'm definitely going to beat you now."

Deleb snorted, bursting into laughter. "A secret technique? As if I don't have one of my own."

"A-a secret technique? You?"

Celia's confident smirk faltered. House Kundel would never teach him a secret technique this early, would they?

According to her intelligence, the main family's secret arts were typically reserved for third- or fourth-years who had proven their mettle. What she didn't know was that Deleb had made a high-stakes wager with his father following Ziel's home visit.

"That's right," Deleb declared proudly. "A secret technique."

"Liar. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You're just bluffing."

"Why don't you wait and find out for yourself?"

Celia trembled in denial. I thought I was finally going to win this time... No, get a grip. My secret technique has to be stronger!

Watching her squirm, Deleb flashed a grin. That's one win for me.

"Whatever! I'm leaving. And don't you dare cross my path again!"

"Oh, does that mean you aren't taking Instructor Ziel's class?"

"No, it doesn't!" Celia huffed furiously, stomping away.

Basking in the refreshing feeling of having seized the upper hand so early in the term, Deleb turned his attention back to the parchment in his hands. Instructor Ziel was offering two elective courses this term:

Basics of Swordsmanship and Sparring.

Mana Development and Coordination.

I'm taking both. No matter what.

Even if the lecture had been titled something absurd like Reading and Debate, it wouldn't have mattered. Anything taught by Instructor Ziel had to be taken at all costs. Just sitting in his presence felt like an express ticket to explosive martial growth.

The only problem is the competition.

There were a hundred students in the first-year class. That meant less than half would be granted entry.

If I fail... should I take a leave of absence?

As one of Instructor Ziel's most devout disciples, failing to enroll was an unthinkable tragedy. He had spent the entire break swinging his sword until his hands bled, mastering a secret technique just to demonstrate his progress. He had to show his instructor how much he had grown.

It's first-come, first-served again, right?

First-year registration was set to open in two days. All one had to do was fill out the application slips and submit them directly to the Student Affairs Office. But because it operated on a strictly first-come basis, timing was everything.

Should I line up tomorrow night? No, is that too late? What about tomorrow afternoon? Wait, would even the afternoon be cutting it close? I have to be within the first forty...

While Deleb's mind spun in frantic calculation, two familiar voices drifted past.

"Me? Of course I stayed at the academy the whole time. I told you before, didn't I?"

"Oh, right. Karen, during break you were at that Mortiis—"

"Yurio, shut your mouth. I told you that's a secret."

"R-right, sorry. But are we really heading over right now? Seriously?"

"Obviously. We need to be within the top forty. No excuses."

Deleb's ears twitched. That's Yurio and Karen.

He slipped behind a pillar, straining to hear every word.

"As long as we're in the first forty, going tomorrow should be fine..."

"Idiots who think like that always end up regretting it," Karen snapped. "What are you going to do if you miss out? I guarantee you every single first-year is going to apply."

"Y-you really think so?"

"Of course they will! Did you forget the insane results from the first-semester Exchange Event and the survival practical?"

Peeking out, Deleb saw an enormous rucksack strapped to Karen's back.

"Wait... what on earth is in that bag?" Yurio asked nervously.

"Food. Water. And a pillow so I can sleep when I get tired."

"What about bathroom breaks?"

"That's why I'm telling you to wait with me. You hold our spot when I go, and I'll hold it when you go. Deal?"

"Two days out in the open is a bit much..."

"Fine, then don't take Instructor Ziel's class."

"A-all right, fine! I'll do it! I'm going! I just need to pack a rucksack too, right?"

"Hurry up and get it."

"Damn it, I literally just finished unpacking in my room..." Yurio bolted off toward the dorms.

Cold dread washed over Deleb. Wait... are the others doing this too?

Had Celia already staked out a spot? His heart plummeted into his stomach. There was no time to lose. Deleb turned on his heel and sprinted flat-out toward the dormitory.

On the way, he nearly collided with Anne.

"Oh, Deleb? Where are you running to?"

"To pack my bags!"

"Huh? Are you leaving already? Taking a leave of absence?"

"What are you talking about?! I'm going to register for classes!"

"Course registration? But that's not until the day after tomorrow!"

Deleb didn't bother answering, disappearing down the corridor in a blur of dust. Anne stared after him, tilting her head in confusion—until realization struck her like a thunderbolt.

Wait... Instructor Ziel's class!

The single most important lecture of their academic lives!

"This is bad!"

Anne spun around and sprinted back to her quarters. Having just unpacked her luggage meant nothing. If she failed to enroll in Instructor Ziel's courses, her entire second semester was doomed.

And she was far from the only one.

Every single first-year who had taken Ziel's classes during the spring had returned with the exact same obsession. When they had returned to their family estates and demonstrated their progress, their parents and elders had been utterly flabbergasted.

'Anne! Before you entered the academy, you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn't even cross blades with me once!'

'Lady Anne, that was magnificent! You deflected a full-power strike from the head of the house!'

The difference between their current skills and their matriculation baseline was night and day. Because they were constantly surrounded by peers improving at the same terrifying rate, they hadn't realized how fast they were growing. But the moment they stepped beyond the academy gates, the truth became undeniable.

It was all thanks to Instructor Ziel.

I have to get out there right now.

Starting with Karen, the spark ignited into a raging wildfire across the first-year dorms.

Meanwhile, Ziel was entirely absorbed in class preparations.

Having temporarily set aside the matter of House Siren, it was time to focus on the upcoming curriculum. That didn't mean he had forgotten about them entirely, however—he was currently sitting face-to-face with one of their closest associates.

"...Ha. So you're seriously sitting there asking me for this favor?"

"Yes. I require them for my Basics of Swordsmanship and Sparring course. I was already given a promise."

"And who authorized such a ridiculous—"

The man sitting across from him was Professor Titus of the Arcane School. Though officially in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠charge of the third-year curriculum, he was the de facto power broker of the entire magic department. His influence had waned considerably following a recent string of 'incidents,' but he was still a formidable figure.

And now, the very man responsible for ruining his standing was casually demanding a loan of magic puppets and arcane tools.

"If any damage occurs, our Sword School will fully compensate for the repairs, and all magical implements will be returned in pristine condition," Ziel stated calmly. "Is there any other reason you cannot lend them?"

Titus gaped. Is this bastard serious right now?

The reason was simple: Ziel had humiliated him twice over. Once during the practical exam, and once during the review for the Special Support System! Because the students Titus had backed had been disqualified, his relationships with several prominent noble families had completely soured.

Insolent wretch.

And now this shameless interloper had the audacity to waltz into his office and demand puppets?

Not on my life.

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Titus sneered, waving a dismissive hand. "We barely have enough units for our own department. A puppet or two might be one thing, but forty is out of the question."

"I was already given a firm commitment."

"Like I said, that promise was made without my consultation! It's out of the question. Absolutely not. Honestly, what was Emeric thinking..."

"It was the agreed price for saving the lives of the Arcane School's students," Ziel countered in a flat, deadpan tone. "Are you implying that the lives of your students are worth less than the temporary loan of some magic puppets and tools?"

Titus choked on his breath for a fraction of a second before falling back on bureaucratic evasion.

"As I stated, that arrangement was never cleared through proper channels. The Arcane School is grateful to you, Instructor Ziel, but what can be done? Magic puppets are invaluable academy assets. One or two, perhaps, but forty? That exceeds my authority to grant."

In truth, he could have authorized it with a stroke of his pen. He simply had zero intention of doing so.

"Besides," Titus continued, leaning forward with a patronizing smirk, "didn't you already gain the favor of an Arcane School professor through this affair? Wasn't that your true motive all along? Really, Instructor Ziel, you are merely an elective instructor in the Sword School. Coming here and making such demands is entirely inappropriate. Does your dean even know about this?"

"He does not."

"My, what a grave issue. You should go back and seek his permission first. Though even if you do, a refusal is still a refusal." Titus sighed, massaging his temples. "I'm exhausted. Let us conclude this discussion. No matter how much you beg, my answer remains no. I'm a very busy man, Instructor Ziel. Please see yourself out."

It was a cold, explicit dismissal.

"Both of us have busy schedules before the term begins, so let's not create unnecessary trouble. Do you have any idea how much a single magic puppet costs? Just the materials alone—"

"Professor Titus."

"What?"

"I am about to blackmail you."

"...Excuse me?"

Less than five minutes later.

Professor Titus was staring blankly into empty space, looking as though his entire world had crumbled to ash. A hollow, defeated rasp slipped from his lips.

"...Understood. I will provide the materials."

"Thank you for your cooperation," Ziel said politely. "I am glad the promise will be kept."

"..."

Ziel rose from his chair, brushing off his coat. "Please have the magic puppets delivered to the Sword School training auditorium within the week."

"...Yes."

"Then, I shall take my leave."

Click.

The office door shut softly. Titus tried to stand, only for his knees to buckle, dropping him heavily back into his chair. A dazed, lifeless murmur echoed through the quiet room.

"My secret hobby... how on earth did that monster find out?"

As Ziel stepped out into the corridor, Gilbert immediately scurried up behind him.

"Boss, how did it go?"

Gilbert hadn't held much hope. The animosity between knights and mages ran deep, and that cultural friction was perfectly mirrored within the academy. Furthermore, in the short time Gilbert had worked here, he had already gathered that the Arcane School had suffered two humiliating setbacks because of his boss. Getting cooperation should have been an impossible task.

"The Arcane School is stubborn, aren't they? It must have been pretty difficult to—"

"They agreed to the loan."

"Pardon?"

"We secured fifty magic puppets and one hundred standard magic tools."

Gilbert froze, his mouth hanging open. He actually got them? And ten more puppets than originally promised?!

"H-how did you pull that off?"

"I couldn't use the subtle method you suggested."

"The... the subtle extortion approach?"

"Yes."

Ziel had briefly consulted Gilbert beforehand. While he was exceptionally well-versed in assassin-style intimidation—such as whispering promises that a target would never live to see the dawn—he had little experience with civil academic negotiation. Gilbert had advised him to drop subtle hints and talk around the subject to apply gentle pressure.

"So, how did you handle it?" Gilbert asked, his curiosity burning.

"I simply told him I was starting the blackmail."

"...Excuse me?"

"Then I stated the blackmail. Afterward, he agreed to the loan."

"..."

Gilbert blinked, struggling to process the sheer audacity of what he had just heard. "So... you literally just announced that you were blackmailing him?"

"I explained it courteously. I told him the blackmail would begin, and then I presented the material."

"..."

Stunned into silence for a moment, Gilbert's eyes suddenly lit up with profound reverence. As expected of the Boss!

There was no need for petty, convoluted mind games. When dealing with someone like Professor Titus, a direct, crushing blow was infinitely more effective. Rather than letting the target squirm through vague innuendo, he had established absolute dominance right from the opening move.

Incredible. Terrifying. My advice was far too timid!

Gilbert nodded vigorously, then leaned in closer. "Out of curiosity, Boss... what kind of dirt did you have on him that made him cave instantly?"

"He possesses an unusual hobby."

Professor Titus's secret indulgence was none other than—

Playing with dolls.

To be specific, he personally commissioned female-model magic puppets, dressed them in intricate gowns, and spent his solitary hours roleplaying as their dashing prince. It was an astonishingly elaborate pasttime, involving delicate seamstress work, meticulous hairstyling, and applied cosmetics. It was completely irreconcilable with the stern, dignified persona he projected to the world.

The intelligence reports had even noted that he occasionally hugged them to sleep.

House Kundel's intelligence network certainly delivered.

Of course, Ziel had passed no moral judgment on the hobby itself. He had simply acted upon the specific annotation included at the bottom of the dossier:

He had merely read the prompt and executed the directive.

"What kind of hobby? Tell me, Boss!" Gilbert prodded eagerly.

Before Ziel could answer, he paused and pointed toward the courtyard. "Gilbert."

"Yes, Boss?"

"Do you know what is currently trendy among the students?"

"Trendy? No, not really. Why?"

Ziel indicated the front steps of the Student Affairs Office as they walked past. "There appears to be a gathering over there."

A massive crowd had converged on the administrative building. Dozens of students were sitting on woven mats spread across the cobblestones, some sharing snacks while others curled up under blankets, fast asleep.

"Is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it... camping?" Gilbert muttered, scratching his head. "Why on earth would they camp there?"

Nothing logical came to mind.

"I'm really not sure, Boss."

"I see."

Completely unaware that an entire mob of first-years had established a siege just to register for his classes, Ziel murmured with a faint shake of his head.

"Youth culture is truly difficult to comprehend."