A Sheer Drop Behind
Erso's disciplinary suspension was lifted in record time.
For an organization as large as Red Shadow, leaving an operative of his caliber—a 1st-Class Crow—twiddling his thumbs was simply bad for business. That was why Erso had just returned from a quick mission to shake off the rust, tossing his exhausted body onto the sofa.
"Hmph. Still got it."
Execution had been flawless.
He had even gotten paid for the first time in weeks.
God, it feels good to be alive!
Yeah, this is stability. The jobs aren't overly complicated, the pay never lags, and the bonuses come in like clockwork.
Sure, every now and then a mission brought him within an inch of the grave, but that was just part of being a Crow. It was no different from any other line of work.
Just then, his eyes drifted toward the table, landing on three daggers.
They were the daggers he had tossed aside after receiving them from that mysterious senior.
To hell with it. Being a Crow is way better.
Having his work cut off during the suspension had made him realize just how precious his routine really was. Getting tangled up with that lunatic had scrambled his head, bringing strange, dangerous people knocking at his door.
A man pursued by the imperial authorities? Madness. Absolute suicide.
For a fleeting second, he had entertained dreams of a thrilling, blazing life, but Erso firmly reined himself in.
"Senior, my ass."
"Were you looking for me?"
"Gaaah!"
Erso bolted upright from the sofa, lost his footing, and crashed violently backward onto the floor.
Scrambling desperately to his feet, he saw him.
"H-H-How did you—!"
"Didn't we come here together last time?"
That wasn't together, that was breaking and entering!
"S-S-S-Senior."
"Did something happen? You seem startled."
Even if he had been here before, how could anyone not be startled when a man slipped into the room like a ghost, utterly devoid of presence, and materialized right before their eyes?
I know I reinforced the security.
Erso was no fool. After that initial visit, he had upgraded his perimeter defenses with painstaking care, spending a fortune on the latest detection arrays. Yet somehow...
"It's fortunate you're here," Ziel said. "If you were absent, I intended to wait until your return."
"I-Is that so?"
Wait a minute.
Why had he come?
Could it finally be... an offer of recruitment?
"There is a favor I require."
"...!"
Erso swallowed hard.
He had just resolved to live a quiet life, yet the moment the prospect arose, his chest began to hammer against his ribs.
An elite, shadow organization!
Was this finally his chance to become a member? The test wasn't over after all. Following that first trial, opportunity was knocking once more.
"Name it, Senior."
Erso gave an eager, resolute nod.
Curse this romantic streak. But what was a man if not a creature driven by romance? You only lived once, and if he had already dedicated his life to the shadows, there was nothing wrong with living it in grander style.
"Investigate the houses written here."
Ziel handed over a slip of paper.
Erensky. Smolder. And Griffin.
Every single one was a prominent, heavyweight noble house. To investigate names like these meant...
Assassination?!
Just as expected of an elite outfit. To target families of such stature without the slightest hesitation...
"What parameters should I focus on?"
"Their assets and current business operations. As recent as possible."
"When do you need it by?"
"By midnight between tomorrow and the following day."
Just who on earth was this man?
Spurred by sudden curiosity, Erso subtly gathered his mana, trying to gauge the depth of Ziel's strength.
Huh?
Why couldn't he sense anything?
Not a single ripple of mana emanated from Ziel. Erso blinked, thoroughly bewildered.
How?
Someone of this caliber should naturally radiate a formidable presence—or at the very least, a substantial reserve of power. Yet the mana lingering around the senior's frame felt no different from that of an ordinary civilian walking the street.
"What are you doing?" Ziel asked.
"Pardon?"
"Why are you probing me with mana?"
"...!"
He detected that too?!
"It is unpleasant. Do it again, and next time..."
"I apologize!"
It was, in truth, an outright breach of etiquette. But an offense only existed if one were caught, and until today, Erso had never been caught. As a Crow of Red Shadow, he was a master of discreetly measuring an opponent's threshold. Yet he had been exposed. For the very first time in his career.
Worse than being caught, however, was the baffling truth of what he had sensed.
Whether warrior or mage, practitioners gathered and concentrated mana within their bodies. From that reservoir, mages cast spells, warriors unleashed sword aura, and esoteric practitioners wielded their arts.
What kind of monster is he?
No matter how he turned it over in his mind, it defied all logic.
"I shall return," Ziel said, turning on his heel.
Just like that, he vanished, leaving behind two worn daggers as an advance payment.
Erso carefully scanned the room, clicking his tongue in sheer disbelief.
"Not a single footprint. Not even a stray strand of hair..."
He had intentionally laid down specialized tiles designed to capture the prints of any intruder. Hair naturally shed, and bodies left behind scent, heat, and displaced dust. Yet there was nothing. Not a trace.
A professional among professionals.
Who in the world is he really?
One thing was certain: he had to execute this assignment flawlessly if he wanted to earn the senior's favor.
Still... how could his mana feel so utterly ordinary?
The question lingered, entirely unanswered.
The day of the second deliberation committee arrived.
Berhal had secured a firm promise from the Academy Dean for one additional scholarship slot. In his eyes, that alone was a solid strike against the Arcane School, driving an iron wedge into their seemingly impenetrable monopoly.
Word of the expanded quota had surely reached them by now. Berhal anticipated seeing sour, bitter expressions on the committee members' faces when Karen was placed among the candidates.
"Department Head."
"Ah, Instructor Ziel."
Ziel approached right on time, carrying a bundle of papers in his hands.
Are those supplementary documents for Student Karen? Berhal thought, feeling a twinge of sympathy. He must have been terribly disheartened. I should give him the good news right away...
"Well, well, Department Head Berhal. I didn't expect you to attend the second session. I understand you had quite the chat with the Academy Dean?"
Berhal turned toward the oily voice to find the Dean of Academic Affairs strolling toward them.
"Ah. Dean of Academic Affairs."
"You actually managed to carve out an extra slot. Your influence is truly formidable, haha."
"I simply believe that students who genuinely require institutional support should receive it."
"Oh, I agree wholeheartedly. Completely and utterly."
Something felt off.
A foul, unsettling premonition crept up Berhal's spine.
"Which is why," the Dean of Academic Affairs continued smoothly, "we have added one more applicant from our Arcane School."
"...What did you say?"
"When word came down that the quota had been expanded, another student from the Arcane School promptly submitted an application. That is all."
Berhal's jaw tightened. So this is the game you want to play?
"Do you truly need to stoop to this level?"
"Did you not just say it yourself, Department Head? The program belongs to those who need it. It just so happens that another student who narrowly missed out behind the first three was added to the roster. Coincidentally... from the Arcane School."
Berhal had anticipated resistance, but not shameless audacity on this scale.
I didn't think they would be this brazen.
They were constructing a stone wall, determined to lock the Sword School out entirely. To make matters worse, the Dean of Academic Affairs wasn't even pretending to be neutral anymore; he was openly championing the mages.
The Academy Dean must be nursing a massive headache of his own.
The Academy Dean hadn't brought in a former commander of the Imperial Knights for simple administrative oversight; Berhal was meant to serve as leverage in these internal power struggles. But closed, insular academic circles cared little for military pedigree.
We'll just have to fight it out.
Everything now hinged on the documents Ziel had brought. Ziel had undoubtedly prepared evidence proving Karen Aswan's desperate need—records of House Aswan's mounting debts and dire financial straits.
"Well now, it seems it is time. Shall we head inside?"
With an infuriatingly greasy smile, the Dean of Academic Affairs led the way into the chamber.
Thus began the second deliberation committee.
Professor Aneton of the Arcane School, who had attended the first session, hadn't even bothered to show up today. He was so thoroughly convinced of their victory that he considered his presence unnecessary.
"In today's second session, we intend to finalize the recipients of the Special Support System," the Dean of Academic Affairs announced, opening the meeting. "Ah, and as you may have heard, an additional slot was created at the earnest request of Department Head Berhal. A wonderful development indeed, as it allows one more student in need to receive aid."
If the man was going to push forward so openly, subtle diplomacy was useless.
We must lay our evidence on the table first and corner them with ironclad logic.
"After all," the dean continued, "it is only right that the 'most suitable' students receive aid. Would you not agree?"
The committee members nodded as if on cue.
"If there are supplementary materials, please submit them. For now, since Student Horton Lane of the Arcane School has submitted an additional application, we shall proceed with reviewing his file."
"I have no objections to the materials provided."
"Ample grounds for support. No objections here either."
"Agreed. No objections."
Rubber stamps, all of them. Berhal glanced toward Ziel and gave a firm nod.
"Let us present our documents as well, Instructor Ziel."
"Understood."
Ziel stood and distributed his copies to the committee members.
Berhal assumed it was Karen's dossier.
Wait... this is...
Berhal's mouth slowly fell open.
These were not documents regarding Karen Aswan at all.
"What in the world is this?!" the Dean of Academic Affairs barked, his eyes bulging.
"These are the current business operations and comprehensive asset portfolios of the Erensky, Smolder, and Griffin families," Ziel stated in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.
He continued smoothly, indifferent to the sudden silence freezing the room.
"As you can see, aside from liquid capital and bank holdings, they possess vast fortunes registered under third-party nominees."
The figures printed across the ledgers were staggering.
More than the sheer numbers, however, Berhal was struck dumb by a single question: How on earth did he uncover this?
The audit was meticulous, indisputable, and devastatingly complete.
"If you examine the financial realities of each house detailed in these documents," Ziel said, "it is abundantly clear that none of these students face the economic hardship required by the Special Support System."
"W-What nonsense are you spouting?! Where did you get these documents?!"
The Dean of Academic Affairs was visibly sweating.
Berhal was equally stunned. The dossiers laid out every asset in immaculate, undeniable detail.
"It was not a difficult investigation," Ziel replied evenly.
At least, it hadn't been for Erso.
In truth, claiming that those three noble houses lacked money had always been a farce. There was a limit to how blatantly one could pull the wool over people's eyes. Ziel had merely conducted a 'simple' verification and produced the empirical evidence.
"These three students do not qualify. If evaluated strictly by the income bracket criteria established during the first deliberation... all three belong to the top two income brackets."
"Preposterous!"
"On the basis of this evidence, I formally request a re-deliberation."
"A re-deliberation?!"
Regardless of how wildly the Dean of Academic Affairs flailed, Ziel pressed forward without a single flicker of emotion.
"You stated earlier that institutional aid must go to students who truly require it. These students clearly have no need for such support."
"Do you even realize what you are saying right now?! Are you trying to make mortal enemies out of every single one of those families?!"
"I have no such intention."
"Then take this absurd fabrication and immediately—"
"However," Ziel interrupted, his voice dropping into a quiet, chilling register, "I see no reason to stand idly by if they choose to make an enemy of me."
The room plummeted into absolute silence.
A suffocating, inexplicable weight pressed down upon the chamber. At that single, flat remark, the Dean of Academic Affairs caught his breath in his throat.
It was sheer, animal instinct.
Good grief, the man is an absolute monster, Berhal thought, marveling in awe.
He had pegged Ziel as a quiet scholar, but the instructor was a calculating serpent. To prepare an ambush like this... the data was far too precise to dispute. If these were fabricated claims, they could be dismissed, but every business and estate listed was common knowledge among the capital's high society.
Assets shifted under false names to feign poverty and evade imperial taxes. Priceless works of art hoarded as liquid stores while claiming an absence of cash.
If they were truly living in the ninth or tenth income bracket of poverty, they wouldn't be parading around the academy like royalty.
Berhal knew for a fact that the three Arcane School students lived in absolute luxury. They occupied top-tier single dormitories, bought expensive magical reagents without blinking, and carried custom-crafted staves worth small fortunes.
"A student with genuine grounds is rejected... while students lacking any justification are approved. Doesn't that strike you as rather peculiar, esteemed committee members?" Berhal chimed in, opening fire to support Ziel's flank.
"..."
"At this rate, I suspect this committee may require a formal external audit. From the Personnel Bureau, perhaps?"
Crack.
The smug mask on the Dean of Academic Affairs fractured entirely.
And with it, the iron monopoly of the Arcane School cracked down the middle.
This... this evidence is too definitive. Where did he dig this up?!
The dean's heart slammed against his ribs like a trapped bird. The tables had turned completely. The source of the information was irrelevant now; the content itself was lethal. No matter how favored the Arcane School was, this was an official academy committee. Every deliberation had to be transcribed into the permanent record. If the records showed that they selected these three students in the face of documented proof of immense wealth...
Damn it all.
His mind raced frantically.
Now was the time to give ground.
"...Very well. Fine. Ah, we were discussing the additional quota, were we not? Student Karen Aswan..."
The dean hastily reached for Karen's folder, which he had refused to even touch moments ago.
"Considering her unique circumstances, what if we make a special exception? Her situation is quite pitiable, so granting her the benefits under the new slot seems entirely reasonable, does it not?"
The committee members exchanged hurried glances.
"Indeed, let us do that."
"Yes, yes, that seems most appropriate."
"A student like Karen certainly qualifies..."
The wind shifted in an instant.
Yielding one concession was the only way to preserve the rest. Erensky. Smolder. Griffin. If those great houses caught wind of a scandal breaking out because of this...
"Before Student Karen's selection can be processed," Ziel said, his voice entirely unruffled, "the disqualification of the three existing candidates must be executed first."
"Instructor Ziel—no, Sir Ziel! We are approving Student Karen right now—"
"Did you not say it yourself?" Ziel countered calmly. "The system exists for those who are qualified."
The Dean of Academic Affairs froze.
He had thought taking a single step back would resolve the crisis.
The problem was—
You insane bastard...
There was nowhere left to step.
Directly behind them lay a sheer, bottomless cliff.
A single man.
A mere contract lecturer of liberal arts...
Was shaking the Arcane School to its very foundation.