Professor (3)

Schud Rapens's first impression was utterly bizarre.

He was clearly smiling, yet it sent a chill down the spine.

It was hard to tell if he was strict or kindly approachable.

In any case, Dean Panayul clearly trusted him deeply.

"Professor Rapens excels in both magic and swordsmanship," she said. "He's the perfect teacher for talented students like you."

She added that he had a good personality, too.

The children buzzed with anticipation, wondering what kind of lessons awaited them.

But in the first class, Professor Rapens assembled us at the outdoor training ground and said with a smile:

"In my class, no one gets special privileges—direct lineage, collateral branch, outsiders, none of that. So I'll call you by name only, no family titles. Any objections?"

"None!"

"Is that all the voice you've got from four people? I'm deeply disappointed. Looks like we need to start with the right attitude for learning. Let's begin with 'Basic Physical Training.'"

"……?"

"Run. Now. Keep going until I say stop."

We had to run until the stench of exhaustion poured from our mouths.

And it didn't end that day.

The next day—

"Your voices are still too quiet. Run."

The day after that.

"Still the same. Run—."

And the day after that, too.

"……Run."

Professor Rapens started grinding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠us to the bone.

It was training of an insane intensity.

We'd heard that first-year trainees normally learned their 'training-specific unique factors' right away.

But our professor insisted that physical fitness came first and showed no mercy whatsoever.

"That crazy bastard…… I'll get him…… One day I'll pour shit water down his throat……."

Libiel muttered through gasping breaths.

She grumbled that it was unimaginable in Absolutism.

A week passed like that.

"……."

"……."

The dust-covered kids sat around a meal that barely qualified as food.

In the silence, they poked at it with forks, their eyes complex.

Maybe they regretted following me into Eternalism.

'I never asked them to follow me.'

So there was no need to feel sorry.

Truth be told—

'This is nothing for me.'

Compared to the swordsmanship training from my past life, it was a joke.

Back then, plenty of guys collapsed and died from exhaustion during sessions.

Of course, it was still too much for these fluffy-haired kids.

Hierniorn tilted his head curiously.

He had a point.

I was already more than fit enough physically.

The fact that I was handling Professor Rapens's training without issue proved it.

'I wish we'd speed things up.'

I wanted to skip the boring basics and jump to practical combat.

Was there a way?

Then a small commotion broke out.

"Professor Rapens!"

Dean Panayul strode into the cafeteria, her face stiff with tension.

She spotted our dusty selves and frowned in surprise.

Right after the dean stepped back out, I sharpened my senses.

"Tell Professor Schud Rapens to come to the dean's office. Immediately."

Her voice giving orders to the servants.

She was about to discuss something with Professor Rapens in the office.

My body moved on its own.

"Hey, where you going?"

"If anyone asks, say I have a stomachache and I'm holed up in the bathroom. Clean up my tray too."

"What? Making your big sis do chores?"

"I'll explain that paper you were curious about."

"……Deal. Leave it to me."

I left the cleanup to Libiel and hurried off.

There was one way to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"One of the new students' parents complained. They say you're not teaching properly—just making them run for a week and tormenting them."

"That's 'Basic Physical Training.'"

"Listen, Professor Rapens. I told you not to do that. These kids are already exceptional—teach them practical skills first! Why ignore my orders? Do I seem like a pushover dean?"

Biat's voice carried a subtle undercurrent of anger.

But Schud, hands clasped behind his back, opened his mouth with utter composure.

"No, from my view, they're sorely lacking. Everything needs physical backing. Magic included. I'm not tormenting them for fun, Dean."

The dean let out a deep sigh.

"I mean do it in moderation. Moderation! Fine, half of what you're doing now. That okay?"

She offered a compromise, coaxing gently.

But Professor Rapens shook his head firmly.

"Sorry, but I refuse. This is my class, Dean. If you don't like my methods, fire me. I don't want to raise disciples under duress."

"What?"

The dean's brow furrowed in fury, and mana burst forth, swirling the air wildly.

Papers flew and mixed in the already cluttered office.

"Remember I was your supervising professor, Schud."

The oppressive mana squeezed from all sides, heavy enough to choke.

Though a step below other deans, Biat was a high mage on the cusp of 8-star.

Her fierce gaze pierced her former student like a blade.

But only for a moment.

"You aren't emphasizing basics because of 'that incident,' are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"'That incident' from 20 years ago."

"……."

Schud clamped his mouth shut at the dean's question.

Silent affirmation.

Biat's eyes grew complicated.

"I figured. I heard you still have nightmares, Schud."

"Someone's been snooping in my bedroom, I see."

"If you scream every dawn, the next room hears it, obviously?"

"I'll ward the walls with sound barriers from now on before sleeping. Anything else, Dean?"

He clearly wanted no more talk.

Biat didn't want to dwell on it either.

"Fine, get out. And tone down that damned 'Basic Physical Training'—please."

"Understood. Tomorrow we start 'Basic Theory Lectures anyway."

"What? More basics?"

"This is essential too. Truly. Excuse me."

The dean gave a hollow laugh, and Schud bowed politely before leaving.

And at that moment, on the floor directly above the dean's office—

'That incident from 20 years ago? Nightmares? What the hell happened?'

Kirian narrowed his eyes, fingertips pressed to the floor.

I knew there was an empty storage room right above the dean's office.

So I'd come straight here and deployed the Listening spell.

Replaying their conversation from the start, I pondered deeply.

'First, the kid whose parents complained about the professor tormenting us with runs instead of lessons……?'

Lorang Hoyd.

No doubt.

Hierniorn, perched by the window, cocked his head as I concluded.

'Not me or Libiel—we've got no parents to snitch to. Mihaden maybe?'

No, Mihaden was actually enjoying the conditioning.

His innate Competitiveness trait and superior build.

Whenever he overtook me for first, a happy grin spread across his face.

No one else, but Mihaden surely loved Professor Rapens's curriculum.

'So only Lorang left.'

Maybe.

Lorang didn't seem the type to sic his parents on us anyway.

His endurance was just pathetic, though—hard to endure.

Why did Professor Rapens have nightmares, anyway?

'Sounds like he's got history.'

I slipped out of the storage room and headed to the dorms.

His grueling regimen for us seemed tied to some past event.

'What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠happened?'

Hierniorn seemed intrigued too.

But no way to find out now.

Just the clue that it happened 20 years ago.

'Storm the dean's office and ask?'

True—if they'd spill easily, they wouldn't have talked in secret.

I scratched my nose bridge, and Hierniorn flapped his wings, hovering up.

So brazen, and a pretty plausible plan.

But I didn't fall for it.

'Trying to line your own pockets? Think I'm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that dumb?'

'Not a speck to the spirits—you'd hog it all. I know your game.'

Not at the moment.

I could try infiltrating his dreams like with Libiel before.

But as a professor-level mage, Schud Rapens's mental barriers would be sky-high—failure rate way higher.

'No thanks. Not digging deeper anyway. Theory lectures next, right? Curious how he'll teach.'

If his theory classes sucked, I'd step in then.

As the family's eldest legitimate heir, I'd have pull soon enough.

Of course, swapping supervising professors was overreach.

'But I won't waste time on his weird curriculum.'

Climbing the stairs, I turned into the dorm hallway.

But I stopped short.

My Transcendent Eye activated automatically, sensing something.

"What the……?"

I crouched slightly, inspecting the floor.

The door to the quadruple room shared by the boys—minus Libiel.

Faint silvery powder, like fine particles, dusted the threshold.

"This powder……?"

Lifting my foot slightly, the powder stirred and crept toward me.

Like iron filings drawn inexorably to a magnet.

Opening my Transcendent Eye wider, details flooded in.

I'd have overlooked it without looking closely.

Releasing mana gently to repel the powder, I opened the door—and chuckled dryly.

Lorang shoveling ice cream on his bed, Mihaden devouring a swordsmanship manual.

Both their legs were caked in Gray Butterfly Wing Dust.

'Means Lorang's twice the mage Mihaden is.'

One way to spot talented mages.

I knew who'd scattered it.

'Professor Rapens testing our mana levels, probably?'

After a moment's thought, I decided to play along.

Simple.

Stepped back and ground the Gray Butterfly Wing Dust underfoot.

In an instant, my ankle was smothered in silvery dust.

Every speck on the floor clung to me.

Now, what face would Professor Rapens make?