Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Another Name for War is Course Registration #2
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A treacherous minister carrying the queen on his back gets ambushed by assassins while sleeping.
That could totally happen.
The treacherous minister gets massacred by suddenly appearing ninjas.
That could totally happen too.
That's why I always had to keep my nerves on edge, wary of assassins.
Which is how I could hear the whispering voices in the middle of the night better than anyone.
"Should we wake him?"
"Wouldn't that be best?"
Two men were conversing on either side of my bed. I didn't know what it was, but it sure wasn't anything good.
So I slowly moved my hand toward the dagger hidden under my pillow. I gripped the handle, ready to stab whichever one lunged first.
"Theo Gospel. If you're not asleep, get up. We're thinking of having an opening party just among us."
Opening party?
Wondering what that meant, I cautiously opened my eyes. There, two men were looking down at me, one holding a candle over a brass cup.
Shadows cast on their faces made them look pretty scary, but at least I could tell they had no intention of harming me.
"What's an opening party?"
The guy whose belly fat bulged out from his training pants answered.
"Just what it sounds like—a party. It's the first day, so let's introduce ourselves and such."
"We already chatted a bit between us first. But it's our first time with you. You're Theo, right? Theo Gospel."
Ah, got it.
It was an invitation to some kind of bonding session.
I really thought they were assassins.
It was almost weirder that they weren't. Was this world really so soft that someone would invite me to bond?
As I sat up, the blond, pudgy guy spoke.
"I'm Hans Walter. Second son of a minor southern territory lord. Just call me Hans. The bespectacled kid over there is—"
"Apprentice Priest Benjamin."
The glasses-wearing boy looked pretty young. Maybe fourteen or fifteen? He seemed just a tad younger than me, appearance-wise.
No hostility, it seemed.
I bowed my head in greeting.
"I'm Theo Gospel, from Angmar. So, what do we do at this opening party? I thought curfew meant bedtime after lights out."
Hans pointed to the corner at my question.
"Right. But if we block the light from leaking, no one finds out. We do it every semester."
Now I noticed the dormitory windows and door cracks were covered with cloth to keep light from escaping.
"Anyway, let's eat the cheese I brought. It's our territory's specialty. Hey, Benjamin. Pull out that bread you brought too."
"Sure."
And so we in Room 7 ended up sitting on my bed, sharing food.
More like dropping crumbs all over my bed. You jerks.
We'd been munching away for a while when pudgy Hans spoke up.
"So it's true? You really are Theo Gospel? Benjamin and I were curious. Famous name and all. I figured it was the same guy. He thought it was just a coincidence."
As he asked, I felt glasses-wearing Benjamin pause mid-bite and look at me. This must've been the main point.
"Yeah, it's true. I'm probably the Theo Gospel you're thinking of."
"No kidding. Rumors said you were over eight feet tall with eight arms, some monster. Can't trust rumors. Anyway, Benjamin—fork over ten thousand coin."
Flutter.
Hans held out his chubby palm, and the bespectacled boy clicked his tongue, pulling paper from his pocket and handing it over.
My eyes widened at the unfamiliar currency.
"Is that... paper money?"
Fluttering the bill, Hans replied to my question.
"Yeah, Arc currency. Called coins. This is a ten-thousand-coin note. Weird how scraps of paper hold value, huh?"
Ah, right—inside Arc, they didn't use copper coins or gold; they had their own system.
I'd gotten about a million coin in scholarships and development grants at enrollment.
Said to be worth around ten million won in cash.
As I grew intrigued by this new yet familiar currency, tongue-clicking Benjamin spoke up.
"But you're really Theo? You just look like a boy my age. If you don't mind, how old are you?"
"Hmm."
Benjamin's question made me realize I needed to set my age. What'd be least troublesome?
"Twenty."
"What? Then we're the same age. Speak casually, friend. Let's get along from now on. Casual's fine."
"I'm younger than you. Just turned fifteen."
Should've said twenty-one—regretting it already.
Knock-knock.
"Time to sleep. First day, so no demerits."
Someone knocked on the door, so we scattered to our beds like mice spotting a cat, pulling up covers.
What the heck.
Thinking that, I couldn't fight the sleep closing my eyelids and drifted off.
The roommates seemed decent enough. They might want something from me, but nothing like that showed yet.
Just good guys?
Did those exist in this world?
Well, this was a church raising heroes, after all.
Maybe this was normal.
Cases like Aira or Elga, with personality issues, might be the weird ones.
* * *
Next dawn.
I woke to bustling noises.
What? What's going on?
Ninjas?
"What's up?"
"Perfect timing. Up and at 'em, friend! Us Bronze Tier guys gotta move early for registration! Late means no soup for you!"
The blond pudgy guy's friendly words snapped me awake. Dorm life, huh.
I hurriedly dressed and headed to the registration building, cutting through predawn air before the sun rose.
A crowd was already there, buzzing. Pudgy Hans clicked his tongue.
"More people this year. Bit later and all the A-rank lectures would've been snatched."
"A-rank lectures? What's that?"
I'd switched to casual speech naturally. Casual talk helps bonding.
These guys had spent semesters at Arc; befriending them meant useful info.
Glasses apprentice priest Benjamin answered my question.
"Arc lectures have unofficial ranks. Easy to attend, easy high grades: A-rank. Lower down—"
"Strict profs, tons of assignments, hard grades?"
Benjamin nodded, shaking his short chestnut hair.
"Yeah. That's it. I planned two A-ranks, one B, two C's."
Rural baronet's second son Hans gawked at unasked-for details from Benjamin.
"Two A-ranks? You sure?"
"Gotta ace this semester for scholarship. Or I head home...."
Some circumstances, apparently.
Curiosity hit me.
"Then why not fill with all A-ranks? Come early and register."
Hans shook his head.
"Not always that simple. Us Bronze Tier cadets are bottom of Arc's hierarchy."
Hierarchy—class structure.
Wanted to ask more, but Benjamin and Hans moved to an open line.
"Enter now!"
Morning came; staff opened registration counters.
I pushed through the surging crowd, waited forever, finally reached a clerk.
"I'm Theo, squire to Her Majesty Aira. Can I register her classes too? Just two subjects."
"She's Platinum Class, right? I'll handle it. Yours?"
"Here's my 15 credits."
I handed my tentative schedule to the bespectacled woman in a neat dress, brown hair in a ponytail. She eyed it, subtly asking.
"You sure? Two high-competition lectures."
High-competition reminded me of the A-rank talk at the entrance.
"Yes. This is fine."
"You came early; spots should be left. One sec."
She rummaged drawers, handed wooden dog tags.
Proof I'd made the cut for those lectures.
"But no tags left for Teatime. Full up."
"Seriously?"
Even this early, some were gone?
Teatime, of all things?
Had to take it with Aira.
"Any way around?"
"Nothing we can do. Teatime's popular—fills first."
Screwed.
Didn't know that.
What now?
Change Aira's schedule?
No—get caught, and she'd skull-crack me with a knuckle rap.
"Then 'Fun and Exciting Philosophy' instead. Plenty spots."
Fun my ass.
Damn.
Course reg failure hurts here too.
No choice but trudge away. Glancing back, joy of success and despair of failure everywhere.
"Failed. 'Precise Concepts and Principles of Nymph Phobia'? What even is that? Why me?"
"Better than me—all first period."
Chaos like war's aftermath.
Underestimated registration.
"Hey, friend. How'd reg go? Any wins?"
Someone called. Belly under uniform—Hans. His easy friendliness felt odd.
"One flop."
"Heh, that's solid for a newbie. Beginner's luck."
Chatting schedules as we walked.
"Pathetic Bronzes moping again. Mind if Ephside checks your fancy lectures?"
A newcomer in the packed hall.
Tall black-haired brute with huge scythe. Muscles bulging, uniform torn—like post-apoc punk.
How does uniform not fit someone that bad?
Problem: crowd hushed instantly. Even boastful Hans shut up, bowed head, nudged my side.
"Hey, friend. Don't meet that guy's eyes."
"What?"
"Lecture hunter Ephside. Barbarian stock—vicious brute. Avoid eyes, stay low."
Lecture hunter? What?
Meaning clear soon.
"You there. Look happy—good reg? Lemme see your schedule."
"M-mine sucks! Nothing to see!"
"I'll judge. Let's see—"
Lecture hunter Ephside grabbed a scrawny girl's wrist, hoisted her up. Her schedule tags clinked on her arm.
"Understanding Elves? Who takes this crap? Rediscovering Sacred Music? Huh?"
"Ughhh—"
Girl's face reddened, humiliated. Arm pain too, maybe.
Then.
"But this is gold: 'Teatime for Mental Cultivation.' Too advanced for Bronze you, though. I'll take it."
"Th-that's—!"
"I'll slot my Intro to Architecture in your gap. Good deal?"
"Unfair—! That's F-rank!"
"Grudge it? Duel me. Any kind, I accept. Win, take my rank brooch. Deal?"
"Ughhh...."
Ah.
That's how it worked.
Ephside stole others' lectures—ruthless monster.
Hans whispered explanation.
"That's how they snatch. Why packing A-ranks early means squat. Hunters everywhere."
"But church allows this?"
I eyed supervising staff. They ignored it.
"No one stops it?"
"Yeah. Here, rank and skill rule all. Past glory, status—irrelevant."
Got it.
System clear now.
"Ephside started Bronze 900th. Stole brooches via duels to Silver Tier. Better lectures, better skills...."
"Brooch stealing allowed?"
I eyed my chest brooch: bronze '1021'. My rank, tier, number.
But brooch-snatching system existed.
"Under Student Council oversight. No-kill duels—anything goes. But Theo, ignore it."
"Why?"
"Your phys test flops are infamous. Rank over thousand."
Ah, so similar Bronze pals approached easy.
Felt kinship.
But I couldn't ignore.
That Teatime Ephside stole.
The one I desperately wanted. Realizing I could steal it back, I couldn't stay calm.
"Friend, what're you—!?"
As I moved, panicked Hans asked. I replied casually.
"If there's a ladder up, you climb it."