A Separate Matter Entirely
The tables turned in an instant.
"So what I am saying, Instructor Xiel Steelheart, is that we will make a special exception and include student Karen Aswan in the support program!"
"Understood. I am pleased to hear that student Karen Aswan will receive support."
"Then this settles the matter—"
"However, before that, three students must be disqualified."
"Do you have any idea what you are saying right now?!"
The Dean of Academic Affairs felt as though the air had been sucked from his lungs. Frustration choked him to the point of madness.
If this goes wrong, I'm ruined!
Erenski, Smolder, Griffin!
He had believed himself to be more than mere acquaintances with those noble houses—they were intimate confidants. What would happen if they heard their children had been stripped of a program he had personally promised to secure? His position as Dean of Academic Affairs would be in grave jeopardy.
Do you have any idea what it took for me to reach this seat?!
He had treated influential parents like royalty and lavished their heirs with every conceivable perk, painstakingly weaving his web of connections. And now, some nobody general instructor was going to tear it all down?
"Recess! We will take a brief ten-minute recess!" the Dean declared abruptly, waving his hands. "Everyone step outside. All committee members! Only Instructor Xiel remains."
His intention was glaringly obvious.
Once the heavy doors clicked shut, leaving only the two of them in the room, the Dean leaned forward.
"What is it you actually want, Instructor Xiel?"
"I have stated it multiple times. For eligible students to receive the benefits of this system."
"Didn't I just say we would include that Karen Aswan girl?!"
"Students who run counter to the purpose of the program should not receive it either."
"..."
The Dean narrowed his eyes. This bastard has an ulterior motive.
A mere elective lecturer pushing so aggressively against the Dean of Academic Affairs himself? That could only mean he was angling for something else. Within the narrow framework of the Dean's worldview, no other explanation made sense.
"Instructor Xiel, let me make you an offer."
"Go ahead."
Seeing how quickly the instructor answered, the Dean curled the corner of his lips into a smirk. Things are finally moving.
"Let us do this. If you wish, I can arrange introductions for you with those three houses."
It was painfully predictable. A general instructor—whether in the Sword School or the Arcane School, the title carried neither power nor a future. Rising to the rank of full professor through sheer luck was practically impossible; even graduate teaching assistants had better career prospects. This man believed he had seized an unrepeatable opportunity, cornering the Dean of Academic Affairs to extract concessions.
Fine. I'll play along.
"Erenski, Smolder, and Griffin. All three are eminent names in the world of magic. I presume you recognize them."
"I do not."
"..."
Of course Xiel had no idea who they were.
"Regardless! That is why I am offering to bridge a connection between you and those noble families."
"Understood. But why?"
"What do you mean, 'why'? It would obviously bring you immense benefit, Instructor Xiel—"
"I have no interest in magic. I do not believe being connected to those families would be of any benefit to me."
He's driving me completely insane!
"Magic isn't the point! Instructor Xiel, don't you want to climb higher? Then you need connections!"
Xiel tilted his head slightly, as though an epiphany had just struck him. "Are you making this offer as a bribe for me to overlook the selection of those three students?"
Took you long enough.
"Or do you need money?" the Dean pressed.
"Yes, I need money."
"Splendid!"
"However, I have no desire to buy chicken skewers with money gained from such an arrangement."
What in the world is he babbling about?!
Xiel's flat, unbothered voice rolled on without pause. "I will make sure to remember these proposals."
"Y-You will remember them?"
"Because I need to include them in my report."
"A r-report...?"
Xiel glanced at the clock on the wall. "Ten minutes have passed."
"..."
"It is time to reconvene the committee."
"Must you truly do this, Instructor Xiel?! Do you honestly not realize what you are doing right now?!" The Dean huffed, his face flushing crimson. "What you are doing right now will ignite a war!"
Xiel cocked his head again. "I do not understand why requesting the selection of qualified students would ignite a war."
Xiel was genuinely perplexed. He could not comprehend why the Dean was offering such bizarre bargains, or why he was dragging the concept of warfare into school paperwork.
"A war between the Sword School and the Arcane School!" the Dean hissed.
Ah.
So that was what he meant.
Xiel considered the statement for a moment before replying, "It does not matter."
Xiel was an assassin. Whether it was war or combat—it made no difference. Whoever came at him, he would kill them and win.
"...Ha, dammit all!" The Dean slumped forward, letting his head drop into his hands.
Right on cue, the door creaked open, and a committee member peered in nervously. "Um, Dean... Ten minutes have passed..."
"..."
There was no other way. He had to dig in his heels. He simply had to push forward and refuse to budge!
I must minimize my own liability at all costs.
And just in case... He needed to prepare for the absolute worst.
"Vice Dean. Step over here and fetch that for me."
"That, sir?"
Pulling the Vice Dean into the corner of the room, the Dean whispered urgently, "Yes. That. The item we received from Professor Titus."
"T-That? Using such a dangerous thing here...?"
"Shh. Just bring it. Ten minutes is plenty of time, right?"
"Y-Yes, understood."
It was merely a precaution. A desperate contingency born of the suffocating terror gripping his chest.
If push comes to shove, I will use it.
It was more than sufficient to buy time. Throw the room into temporary confusion, rush the vote through during the haze, and once the official record was stamped, the decision could never be overturned.
Yet an unforeseen variable dismantled his scheme the moment the Vice Dean slipped back into the room with the item.
"Looking at the way things are unfolding, it seems we require an impartial mediator between us," Berhal announced smoothly, stepping toward the entrance and opening the door wide. "Please come in, Ms. Lena."
A woman strode into the room.
An operative of the Personnel Bureau—Lena.
What in the crazy hell...
Just like the bitter feud between the Sword School and the Arcane School, the Personnel Bureau was the dreaded archrival of the Office of Academic Affairs, wielding just as much administrative teeth. Berhal had played his cards brilliantly.
Now I can finally hold my head high, Berhal thought with quiet satisfaction. He had felt thoroughly ashamed after witnessing the decisive evidence Xiel had produced. Having boldly proposed that they confront the Arcane School together, he couldn't just stand around gaping like a helpless spectator. So he had summoned the very enemy the Office of Academic Affairs feared most.
I wasn't particularly thrilled about calling that bastard Rocus, but...
Surprisingly, Rocus had agreed without hesitation. Berhal had braced himself for a prolonged negotiation, but the man had jumped at the chance. Incurring a debt of gratitude sat somewhat uncomfortably on Berhal's conscience, but what did it matter? The Personnel Bureau had been sharpening its knives anyway. Just as Academic Affairs despised Personnel, Personnel returned the sentiment with interest. The Office of Academic Affairs had openly favored the Arcane School and locked horns with the Academy President for far too long—and now, Personnel had been handed an unassailable justification to strike.
"I am Deputy Director Lena of the Personnel Bureau," Lena stated, her voice crisp and measured. "I have received a briefing on the situation. I understand there is a dispute regarding the Special Support Program?"
Stepping forward, she picked up the documents spread across the table.
"What do you think you are doing?!" the Dean barked. "Only authorized personnel are permitted inside this committee—"
"You seem unfamiliar with the authority granted to the Personnel Bureau," Lena cut him off without glancing up. "We possess the mandate to intervene in all matters concerning institutional appointments and welfare allocations—including student beneficiary selections conducted under official programs."
Having rapidly scanned the paperwork, Lena lifted her gaze, her eyes cold. "Fabian Erenski, Rick Smolder, Egle Griffin. None of these three students satisfy the criteria for the Special Support Program. I am curious to hear how they passed the primary screening, committee members."
Heavy silence fell over the table. The committee members looked down, lips sealed.
Berhal spoke in their stead. "We did not possess these records at the time, Ms. Lena."
"Is that so? Then, based on these new records, has their disqualification been finalized in this second round?"
"Well, that does not appear to be the case either."
Lena nodded slowly. "Do the committee members possess any counter-evidence to refute these findings? Proof demonstrating that these three students face financial hardship severe enough to warrant state support?"
"...That is..."
"The documentation originally submitted by the Arcane School has been entirely invalidated by the records provided here. As this second committee session is the final review, unless valid counter-evidence is presented immediately, these students cannot receive the benefits of the support program."
Lena then lifted the next folder. "On the other hand... student Karen Aswan appears more than qualified. Does this mean only one candidate will be selected for this cycle's Special Support Program?"
The committee members who had attempted to bulldoze the vote sat paralyzed. Their opponent was an investigator from the Personnel Bureau. One wrong step, and this affair could escalate into an administrative purge.
There's no other way.
Three opponents stood before him. Slipping his hand into his coat, the Dean carefully withdrew the object his deputy had delivered. It was a perilous artifact procured as a reward for maintaining amicable relations with the Arcane School—a ring capable of inducing brief, profound memory disorientation.
Setting the span to the last few days should suffice.
He had hoped to avoid using it, but his back was against the wall. The lineages backing the three applicants wielded massive influence not only within the Arcane School, but throughout the imperial court. The moment he earned their displeasure, his career was finished. The prestigious dean's chair he occupied thanks to their patronage would vanish overnight.
Of course, had the Dean investigated Xiel's background with even an ounce of diligence, he might have reconsidered.
Unfortunately, no such caution crossed his mind.
"Ahem. Cough."
Clearing his throat, the Dean rested his ring-bearing hand casually upon the tabletop. General instructor, you go first.
Operating the device was laughably simple: align the tip of the mounted gem with the target and twist the band. That ease of use was precisely what made it terrifying. Even an ordinary person devoid of magical talent could trigger its power.
And yet—
Huh?
Nothing happened.
Did it work?
Xiel was staring directly at him. More precisely, his amber eyes were locked onto the ring encircling the Dean's finger.
Wait... Don't tell me?
Xiel stood up.
In a panic, the Dean frantically twisted the ring back and forth. But before the magic could ignite, Xiel crossed the distance in the span of a single heartbeat.
"Gaugh!"
Xiel gripped the Dean's wrist and hauled his arm into the air.
Gasps erupted across the room. Sudden violence in the middle of a committee meeting?!
What is he doing now?! Berhal stared in sheer shock, while Lena knit her brow, entirely unable to fathom the sudden escalation.
Then, a reason nobody could have predicted fell from Xiel's lips.
"You are attempting to use a magic tool, Dean."
A magic tool?
Every gaze in the room snapped toward them, tracing from Xiel's pale hand down to the Dean's thick, trembling wrist—and finally settling on his finger.
"A ring?"
The ring caught their attention. It appeared entirely unremarkable, making it impossible to tell at a glance whether he had worn it all day or slipped it on just moments prior. Yet Xiel had explicitly branded it a 'magic tool.'
"I detected distinct hostility and mana radiating from it," Xiel stated, his voice flat and unyielding.
Panic stripped away what little composure the Dean had left. "N-Nonsense! Absolute rubbish! It's just an ordinary ring!"
The frantic denial only deepened the suspicion in the room.
"I never specified that the tool was a ring," Xiel replied evenly.
"...!"
The situation had gone beyond a reversal; it had collapsed into absolute catastrophe. Of course, only for the Dean of Academic Affairs—and by extension, the Arcane School.
I'm dead...
In a desperate final bid, the Dean lunged with his free hand to yank the ring from his finger.
Or rather, he tried to.
Swish.
Xiel stripped the ring away several times faster than the Dean could move, rendering the struggle utterly pathetic.
"It is unquestionably a magic tool."
"A-Are you a mage?!" the Dean shrieked.
"I possess enough awareness to know that an ordinary ring does not harbor such dense mana."
Above all else, Xiel was certain for one simple reason: The hand mirror reacted violently.
The Organization artifact he had purchased on a whim from a curio shop had buzzed sharply against his coat. Thanks to its warning, he had known with absolute certainty. Naturally, even without the mirror, circulating the Breathing of the Polar Night slightly deeper would have allowed him to detect the spell effortlessly. But identifying the danger before needing to channel his breathing provided a decisive advantage in reaction speed.
I wonder what kind of tool it is, Xiel thought quietly.
Any further debate regarding the scholarship had become utterly meaningless.
"There is indeed a potent current of mana sealed within this," Berhal murmured, inspecting the ring before passing it to Lena.
Lena examined the band closely, her expression hardening. "Without question. It bears the unmistakable signature of an offensive artifact."
Berhal clicked his tongue, gazing down at the Dean of Academic Affairs. The sight of the man trembling like an autumn leaf, his soul visibly drained from his face, was almost pitiful.
"I never imagined matters would deteriorate to this point, Dean."
The Dean had never imagined it either.
That everything would unravel this way.
All because of a single man—a lowly elective lecturer from the Sword School.
It was over. Completely and utterly over.
"That makes this a separate matter entirely," Lena declared, her tone chilling the air.
The Personnel Bureau held authority over all disciplinary actions and staffing across the academy. While the Office of Academic Affairs maintained institutional parity through its control over academic policy, this breached every boundary.
"I will report this incident directly to the Director," Lena added.
This was no longer a policy disagreement. A faculty member had attempted an illicit magical assault against another faculty member on academy grounds.
And the committee was not yet dismissed.
"Committee members, the second round has concluded," Berhal said, an easy, victorious smile spreading across his face. "Shouldn't you cast your final votes?"
Flustered and terrified, the remaining committee members could only cast pleading glances toward their disgraced Dean.
The conclusion, however, had already been written.