Chapter 76: Joaquin Graduate School (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 76: Joaquin Graduate School (5)
I can dress myself just fine. Obviously. I’m a full-grown adult, after all.
“Geomma, the coat.”
“Ah, tie first.”
“Which tie do you think looks better?”
“That black one.”
To me, they both looked pitch-black.
“Ugh. Abel… I can’t breathe.”
“Sorry. But bear with it just a little longer. Look at what day it is. People will talk if your tie is loose.”
Gag, choke. I was suffocating. Unbothered, Abel pulled the knot tight.
I know what Abel is trying to say.
My usual attire was pretty casual. I barely tied my ties, and I never bought clothes unless Abel and Ryozo bought them for me. It was too much hassle.
There’s a reason I basically live in my Seven-Star Coat.
For someone like me to dress to the nines and make a formal public appearance? That alone would lend significant weight to the opening of Joaquin Graduate School.
But still...
Even considering that...
“It can’t be helped, Geomma. You’re an adult, right? Adults have to do things they don't like.”
“That's right.”
“Still, this is way too fun.”
...And there's her true intention.
You two are having way too much fun with this.
I seriously questioned whether either of them cared that today was a symbolic day. It felt like they were just using a meaningful occasion as an excuse to play dress-up with me.
“Argh!”
Gaaah.
“Hm?”
“M-my groin.”
It was squeezed tight. Any higher and something would pop!
“It’s fine. Something like this won't break it.”
“How would you know that, Abel?”
“Well... wouldn't a wife naturally know that much without an explanation?”
“……”
The adult world truly was profound. I still had a long way to go...
Abel’s risqué jokes are getting bolder by the day.
She must be taking private lessons from Shail. No wonder I hadn't been seeing her around dinner time lately.
The Sword Emperor is obsessed with internet memes, and his granddaughter is making crude jokes...
Descendants of the Sword Saint... Why was the Nibelung family so vulnerable to that sort of thing? Thinking this, I glanced around the room.
A dressing room flanked by full-length mirrors arranged in a crane wing formation. After spending hours being dragged around in this bizarre room that set a terrifying atmosphere—the kind you’d expect in a funhouse—Ryozo and Abel took a few steps back to perform a final inspection of my condition. Though "final" was strictly my own wishful thinking.
“It’s not perfect, but it’ll do.”
“Want to give us a turn?”
“As you wish.”
I spun in place as instructed. The hem of the coat flared into a triangular shape before settling back behind my calves. As if on cue, smiles flickered across both their faces, only to vanish instantly.
Their previous bright expressions were gone, replaced by dissatisfied gazes. Ryozo spoke up.
“What a shame...”
“Right? I feel the same way.”
Ugh. There's nothing to be disappointed about.
Save me.
Reading my mood, the two exchanged glances and let out small chuckles.
“Geomma looks exhausted, so should we wrap it up here?”
“Tsk. Leaving it like this feels a bit lacking, though.”
“True. Opportunities like this don't come around often.”
They began creeping closer again. I backed away like a mouse cornered by cats. But the room was small. In just three steps, the distinct chill of glass touched the back of my neck.
“Hehehehe.”
“It won't hurt.”
Shadows fell over me. The corners of their eyes in the shadows curved sinisterly.
Just then, the dressing room door burst open. Unexpected saviors: Shail and Choi Seol-ah had arrived.
“Hey—!”
Choi Seol-ah marched in, huffing. Her heavy footsteps caused our reflections in the mirror to quiver.
“We don't have time to slack off!”
Anyone watching might wonder where she got the audacity to act so brazenly. She was brimming with confidence.
However, over the past few days, Choi Seol-ah’s standing had jumped up several notches. This was because her name was proudly listed as an editor of the Standard Text of Magic. While it was realistically only possible thanks to the Dragon Clan, Choi Seol-ah was nevertheless the one who had proposed the idea.
Power changes people. Choi Seol-ah, who used to be cringing and obsessed with self-preservation, had gone into full try-hard mode regarding the establishment of Joaquin Graduate School ever since completing her monumental task.
The idea that students would be studying from a textbook she helped compile seemed to make her heart flutter with pride.
Fueled by that anticipation, excitement, and a strange sense of responsibility, she was actually daring to raise her voice at Ryozo and Abel. Has she lost her mind?
“Um... Instructor Kim.”
Unable to watch any longer, Shail caught Choi Seol-ah by the shoulder.
“I understand how you feel, but you’re being a bit too tense.”
“……”
Choi Seol-ah glared at Shail. Then, with a sharp humpf!—snorting so loudly her nostrils flared—she turned back toward the door.
“Everyone is waiting! Hurry up!”
The door slammed shut behind her. The surrounding mirrors reflected our bewildered faces.
A moment passed before Ryozo burst into a dry laugh.
“Oh my. Look at our Board President making an appearance.”
“Go easy on her. Instructor Kim worked the hardest this time.”
“Well, yeah.”
Ryozo let Abel’s words slide.
“She’s not entirely wrong. It’s time, let’s go.”
“Yeah.”
Ryozo and Abel took the lead. I shuffled forward, dragging my legs. My groin felt like it was tightly bound with thick ropes.
Seeing my plight, Shail slipped quietly to my side. She mouthed words to me secretly without making a sound.
—You will get used to it in about ten minutes.
If Garyeon had the Blessing of Telepathic Transmission, Shail’s trademark was silent lip-reading communication.
Shail couldn't possibly understand this pain.
I signaled back with a subtle glance. Even with just that, Shail picked up on it like a hawk.
She had once said that a maid rarely suffered from hunger—because she lived off a steady diet of reading people's expressions.
—Though it may not be the exact same pain, I suffer from a similar torment constantly.
A similar pain?
She offered no spoken answer. Instead, timing it perfectly for the moment Ryozo and Abel crossed the threshold, she gave me a glimpse.
Rustle.
Fabric brushed against skin. The hem of her skirt—not on my side, but the far side—lifted up to her hip. To the naked eye, what lay beneath the fabric wasn't clearly visible.
And yet, my pupils quivered. My gaze was pinned to the mirror...
Lattice straps bound around her thigh, a pair of straps connecting top to bottom. A garter belt. It was my first time seeing one in real life.
—This is how I store my armament, you see.
She positioned herself so masterfully using the mirror's reflection angle that even if Ryozo and Abel turned around, it would be nearly impossible for them to catch a glimpse.
…….
—This is our little secret.
An original is an original for a reason. Abel could never beat Shail when it came to embarrassing innuendos. It wasn't something you could learn—this belonged to the realm of pure talent.
* * *
The event hall was packed with crowds. Joaquin was bustling with reporters who had gathered from all over the world.
This is going to be exhausting.
Kang Geomma had never been on good terms with reporters. It wasn't because they didn't write articles praising him. Absolutely not.
It’s because they fabricate stories out of thin air.
Most readers criticized the news outlets for it.
—Have you shameless bastards no respect for the hero who saved humanity!
However, public opinion was like a balloon—or the tide, ebbing and flowing. A small minority actually supported the reporters.
It was the so-called "unreasonable hate" born out of extreme fandom presence. Because everyone around treated Kang Geomma like a god, some felt an arbitrary urge to express backlash. Take this for example:
☞ Title: The Heavenly Sword’s Reckless Acts of Violence. Is There Really No Way to Keep Him in Check?
……[omitted]……
[Is The HS Really All That?*]
Honestly, did this reporter say anything wrong? Looks spot-on to me. If HS decides to go all out with his sword, a few countries will vanish off the map. Are we just supposed to sit back and watch? Am I the only one who thinks this way?
└re: [HeavenlySwordLove♥*] Yeah yeah, another professional hater.
└re: [HeavenlySwordLove♥*] Seriously, this talking point is so stale.
[ImNotASlave*]
I agree with the comment above. There are so many precedents I can’t even pick just one. Anyway, because HS keeps poking his nose into everything, the nobles are stripped of power and crawling on their knees. How is this any different from a one-man dictatorship?
└re: [DemonSurrenderff*] That’s just karmic retribution.
└re: [DemonSurrenderff*] Looks like you completely forgot what the nobles did to us, lol.
└re: [HeavenlySwordLove♥*] Selective amnesia must be nice, fr lol.
[Is The HS Really All That?*]
Typical mindless glazers...
└re: [ImNotASlave*] You can see their intelligence level, right?
└re: [ImNotASlave*] Sure, the nobles were tax thieves, I admit that. But until the Heavenly Sword showed up, it was the nobles who protected the Human Realm.
└re: [Is The HS Really All That?*] Calling us arrogant when they're the exact same way tsk tsk.
The debate between supporters and opposers grew increasingly heated. Whenever it started to cool down, reporters tossed out fresh bait to reignite the flames.
The funny thing was, among the reporters Kang Geomma had met, not a single one failed to show him respect in person.
If someone had spat in his face, he might have at least commended their bravery. Kang Geomma had no intention, then or now, of crushing true journalistic spirit.
On the surface, they praised him as the savior of the world. Behind the scenes, they peddled outrage and misery using the three letters of his name: Kang Geomma.
I can’t bring myself to view them favorably.
But if he applied even a tiny bit of pressure with his eyes, people would collapse like flies. Controlling his power was tricky business. Kang Geomma’s true body was growing stronger by the day.
I just have to ignore it. What choice do I have?
Kang Geomma resigned himself to it. He worried that if he suffered from distrusting humanity any further, he might actually lose his own humanity.
Shaking his head softly, he stood before the newly constructed building: Joaquin Graduate School. Its structural framework took inspiration from traditional Korean palaces, its pavilions spreading outward like wings, yet its stone materials evoked the majestic aesthetic of an ancient Greek temple.
A splendid tower seamlessly blending East and West. Under the watchful eyes of the entire world, Ryozo delivered a formal opening address.
“First, before we begin, I would like to express my deepest gratitude to everyone who provided their support...”
The reporters gave businesslike applause. Ryozo’s masterful eloquence left no room for anyone to interrupt or derail the flow.
“The educational sphere has reached a new phase. I extend my sincere gratitude once more to the entire staff of Joaquin for granting us the opportunity to be part of this glorious occasion.”
Next, Association President Seong Yu-chang took the baton. The reporters remained quiet—this time out of sheer boredom.
When a reasonable amount of time had passed, Kang Geomma rose from his seat. A spark of life returned to the eyes of the reporters.
“Thank you for coming today.”
Honestly, he intended to leave it at that. The quality and content of any questions were bound to be identical anyway.
Just as I expressed my thanks and prepared to sit back down, a sharp, crisp voice caught me in my tracks.
“I’ve heard that the subject taught at Joaquin Graduate School is ‘Magic.’ Word has it that this was your idea, Heavenly Sword. Is that true?”
How refreshing.
“The fact that the graduate school—the successor to Joaquin Academy, which fosters heroes—is teaching a ‘technique used by Majin.’ There are surely many who find this bewildering.”
I shifted my attention to her. A woman with soft, slightly downturned eyes held her pen aloft.
“If it is true, would you care to share a few words?”
A low murmur broke out.
“Geez. Is she the only reporter here?”
“She’s clearly a rookie, diving in without reading the room.”
“She’ll only learn after getting ripped apart by her boss.”
“Tact and skill are the most important things in this job. Won't be long before we stop seeing her out in the field.”
Standing firm against the stinging glares, she pressed her offensive. Above the murmurs rising like steam, our eyes met. Kang Geomma spoke first.
“Majin have long been objects of terror to humanity. The catalyst behind that fear was their technique: magic.”
The reporters gasped softly. They hadn't expected Kang Geomma to actually entertain a question from a total novice—and an impudent one at that. Kang Geomma continued speaking.
“However, Majin are no longer objects of terror to humanity. The same applies to magic.”
“So you’re saying there’s no need to treat it as a taboo?”
Kang Geomma nodded.
“Ten years is a long time. Of course, for dozens of centuries, Majin and magic have been an uncomfortable reality for humanity. A prejudice built over ages cannot be changed in a single decade.”
The female reporter scribbled furiously in her notebook. Only then did the other journalists pull out their recording devices.
“Even so, we must move forward. We must strive to break those prejudices. And I believe that starting point should be an educational institution.”
“Why is that?”
“Let me ask you in turn. Why did the Hero of the Origin establish Joaquin Academy? He personally brought an end to the 1st Human-Demon War with his own hands.”
“To prepare for subsequent wars.”
The female reporter answered immediately.
“However, wasn't the Demon Clan still thriving back then? As you yourself mentioned, Heavenly Sword, the main enemy of humanity right now...”
“The Parsi Massacre.”
The impact of those three words was immediate. The entire crowd fell dead silent.
“Is there any guarantee such a tragedy won't happen again? I think otherwise.”
“……”
“Hypothetically, what if I were no longer here? Should humanity not foster the strength to stand on its own feet in preparation for that?”
The reporters swallowed hard, as if gulping down ice water. A balding reporter whose hairline receded to his crown asked anxiously:
“D-does that mean... you might abandon your duty as a hero...?”
“That will not happen. I simply wanted to emphasize that we must not turn a blind eye to the reality of our situation. Furthermore—”
“Furthermore?”
Kang Geomma turned his head slightly. Joaquin Graduate School glistened brightly behind him. Looking back at the reporters, he said:
“Joaquin Graduate School will serve as an institution to keep me in check.”
“I see.”
The female reporter snapped her notebook shut.
“Reporter, what is your name?”
She smiled with her eyes as she answered.
“San Hana.”
I see. So that's how it is.
Kang Geomma glanced back at Ryozo and Abel. The two of them were staring straight ahead, acting as if they had nothing to do with this.
But soon enough... a quiet chuckle escaped them.
“Together with me—” Kang Geomma said, “—everyone from Joaquin gathered here will do our utmost to make it so.”
A bright, radiant smile spread across his face.
—Joaquin Graduate School [End]