The Blonde Instructor (1)
Logan approached Neria, who remained on her knees atop the table. He grasped her uniform jacket and began buttoning it from the bottom, where the buttons had come undone, working his way upward one by one. When the final button slipped into place, Neria’s nape and the soft valley of her cleavage vanished once more beneath the crisp fabric. Logan withdrew his hand and spoke in a calm, measured voice.
“Neria.”
Neria bit her lower lip, forcing her voice into composure. “...Yes, Dean.”
“Do not challenge my authority.”
She held her breath and bowed her head. “Understood.”
“Clean up and leave.”
With that, Logan settled into his chair and leaned back. Once Neria had gone, he spread out some documents and picked up a pen, but concentration eluded him. He tossed the pen aside and rose from his seat.
To shake off the stifling feeling in his chest, he left the dean’s office and made his way to the training grounds, where he watched the students at work.
“This cohort really is fast,” he murmured.
The sixth-generation students absorbed lessons with remarkable speed. The academy’s foundations were now rock-solid and the curriculum had hit its stride, but even so, this class stood out. Objectively speaking, they deserved to be called the golden generation. Their talent was undeniable.
They swarmed the instructors with questions, eager to improve. Even after training ended, they gathered in groups to offer one another advice. It was a heartening sight. Overall, their character was excellent—no power struggles, no ostracism. Instead, a strong culture of helping and lifting up the weaker students had taken root.
One notable feature was the unusually high proportion of commoner-born students in this class. It wasn’t simply a matter of numbers. The top ranks in nearly every subject were dominated by commoners. The noble children were not lazy, but they lacked the desperate hunger that drove their common-born peers.
Logan’s gaze settled on Layman. Students like him, born without privilege, gritted their teeth and gave everything they had so as not to waste this opportunity. While the nobles finished their drills with perfect form and etiquette, the commoners trained until they were covered in dirt, swinging their swords one more time, and then another. They threw themselves into every exercise with ferocious intensity, determined to climb higher.
Because so many of them trained with that kind of desperate tenacity, the overall level of the entire cohort rose in a virtuous cycle.
At that moment, one of the instructors noticed Logan’s presence and approached. He gave a crisp salute.
“Good to see you, Dean.”
“The training intensity is impressive.”
“The sixth generation is truly different. Everyone calls them the golden cohort. Their skills are excellent, but it’s their attitude toward learning that stands out the most.”
Logan nodded and swept his gaze across the students swinging their wooden swords.
“It certainly looks that way. It seems to be the result of the instructors’ devoted efforts combined with the students’ passion. You’ve all been working hard.”
Watching the sixth-generation students made Logan want to teach them personally, but the current instructors were already doing an outstanding job. After a moment’s thought, he made a suggestion.
“How would it be if the instructors and I gave the students a practical lesson through sparring? Seeing it directly should be far more educational than words alone.”
The chance to cross blades with the dean himself was a rare honor for the instructors. They eagerly began preparations, while the students buzzed with excitement and gathered closer.
Logan deliberately extended each match as long as possible. He created openings so his opponents could attack properly, focused on defense, and only countered at the decisive moments. The instructors gave their all until they were gasping for breath, but the difference in skill was obvious. Still, every one of them stepped back with satisfied expressions.
Finally, the last instructor stepped forward—a woman with golden hair. Cheers erupted from the cadets.
“Instructor Vesper, you can do it!”
“Show us what you’ve got, Instructor!”
“Instructor Vesper, you look beautiful today too!”
The students’ cheers were far louder than they had been for any previous opponent. Bright golden hair, pale sky-blue eyes, and a neat, gentle impression. Whenever she smiled, a soft warmth spread across her face, and it seemed to have completely captured the cadets’ hearts.
Logan couldn’t immediately recall her name, so he asked.
“Are you a newly appointed instructor?”
“Yes, Dean. My name is Lea Vesper.”
“Vesper… an evening prayer. A former holy knight?”
“That is correct.”
“Then should I address you as Dame Vesper?”
Lea shook her head gently. “No. I am simply an instructor now, and I stand below you, Dean. Please call me Instructor Vesper.”
Having spoken, Lea lifted her shield and one-handed sword, settling into a ready stance. The solid, well-balanced aura characteristic of holy knights radiated from her.
She blocks with the shield and looks for an opening to thrust with the sword.
At the instructor’s signal, Lea moved first. She advanced with her shield leading, pressuring Logan’s right side while thrusting her sword. Logan lightly flicked the blade aside and countered. A sharp crack rang out as the wooden swords met.
This time Logan attacked first. He swung rapidly, hammering at Lea’s shield as he searched for gaps. She calmly shifted her shield to deflect every blow, then seized a momentary opening to counter with a clean swing of her own.
“Whoa!”
“She’s incredibly fast!”
Admiring gasps rose from the cadets. Although Lea was pushed back and Logan held the upper hand, he deliberately slowed his pace to let her fully display her style.
Her skill is considerable. Someone this capable retired from the front lines and came to the academy as an instructor?
As the spar continued, Logan began to feel a faint sense of dissonance. Her upper body movement and shield work were superb, but her legwork seemed slightly unnatural by comparison. Each time she shifted her weight, there was a subtle hitch. His gaze drifted to her lower body.
Lea noticed his stare. She paused the match and spoke calmly.
“My left leg is a prosthetic.”
“A prosthetic?”
“Yes. I suffered demonic corruption on the front lines. The leg had to be amputated. That’s why I retired and came here.”
“I see. Let’s wrap this up.”
Logan gave a short reply and adjusted his grip on the wooden sword. Then he accelerated to full speed. Lea held firm behind her shield, but her prosthetic leg—incapable of mana conduction—could not keep up with the sudden burst. Logan’s sword slid along the edge of her shield and came to a perfect stop just short of her pale throat.
“...That’s enough.”
When Logan lowered his weapon, Lea exhaled heavily and bowed with perfect courtesy.
“I am defeated. As expected, you are incredible, Dean.”
“Not at all. Maintaining that level of balance despite the handicap of a prosthetic is admirable.”
“Everyone, applause for the Dean and Instructor Vesper!”
At the instructor’s booming shout, thunderous applause and cheers filled the training ground. As the session drew near its end, class was promptly dismissed. Logan walked alongside Lea, continuing their conversation.
“If you experience any inconvenience or dissatisfaction while working as an instructor, tell me anytime. We must keep talented instructors for as long as possible.”
“Thank you, Dean. The students here are so passionate that I’m truly enjoying my work.”
Small talk flowed naturally between them.
“By the way, Instructor Vesper, do you have any children? I was curious whether they might be old enough to enroll in the academy.”
Lea’s eyes widened slightly. She hesitated for a moment, then answered honestly.
“Dean, I am not yet married.”
“Ah…”
Given her mid-thirties age and the mature, benevolent aura she gave off, he had naturally assumed she had a family. It had been a careless mistake.
“My apologies… that was rude of me.”
Lea shook her head gently. “It’s quite all right. My life as a holy knight was so long that I never had the luxury to think about such things.”
Logan smiled and changed the subject. “Then I look forward to working with you, Instructor Vesper.”
“Yes, Dean.”
Lea bowed politely, then turned and began walking toward the dining hall. But as she moved, her body suddenly lurched visibly.
“...!”
She hurriedly shifted her weight onto one foot and froze. Her left leg seemed to have lost all strength. She clutched the thigh connected to the prosthetic and began to sink toward the ground.
Logan rushed over and supported her so she could sit down slowly.
“Instructor Vesper, what’s wrong?”
Her face glistened with cold sweat as she gripped his arm tightly.
“Ah, Dean… I’m sorry. Suddenly the muscles above the prosthetic… they’re cramping badly…”
“A cramp? You don’t look well. Let me help you to the infirmary.”
When Logan tried to support her, Lea shook her head urgently.
“No, it’s all right… I don’t need to go to the infirmary. Could you… take me somewhere out of sight? I don’t want the students or other instructors to see me like this.”
Logan quickly scanned their surroundings. The nearest suitable place was a storage shed in the corner of the training ground where practice equipment was stacked.
“Understood.”
He guided her arm around his neck, practically carrying her the short distance to the shed. Once inside, he lowered her onto a thick landing mat.
Lea sat on the mat, brow deeply furrowed, and began roughly massaging the thigh muscle above her prosthetic with both hands.
“Do these cramps happen often?”
“Usually it’s fine… but I think I overdid it during the spar earlier. That’s why I could never lead charges on the front lines, either.”
A flash of self-loathing crossed her face as she smiled bitterly.
“Does massaging help?”
Lea looked troubled. “Yes… the proper way is to circulate mana delicately through the surrounding muscles to release the tension. But my primary power is holy energy, so my mana manipulation isn’t precise enough to do it well.”
Logan thought for a moment, then spoke in a low voice.
“Let me help.”
He reached out with both hands and gripped her left thigh. His fingers kneaded the muscle while he carefully sent mana flowing through it, attempting to loosen the knot.
“...Like this?”
Lea closed her eyes for a moment to assess the sensation, then shook her head slightly.
“It seems… it would be better if you did it directly on bare skin.”
“I see…”
She started to say, “No, it’s all right. It already feels better, thank you,” and tried to stand. At that exact moment, the cramp surged violently up her thigh.
“Ugh…!”
Lea clenched her teeth, letting out a small groan. Logan asked quickly.
“Are you all right?”
She steadied her breathing, then lowered her head in embarrassment.
“...I’m sorry. This won’t do. I’ll lower my pants, so… could you close your eyes for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Logan closed his eyes. He heard the rustle of fabric as she slid her pants down. Then Lea carefully took his hand and guided it onto her bare thigh.
Her skin was smooth and resilient. With his eyes still closed, Logan channeled mana into the cramped muscle, working it with firm fingers. As the spasm gradually eased, Lea’s body relaxed. But the man’s rough, burning touch soon made her breath catch.
“Hah…”
Startled by the sound that escaped her own lips, Lea hurriedly pushed his hand away.
“Th-that’s enough now! Thank you!”
She scrambled to pull her pants back up and stand, but her leg—still not fully recovered from the cramp—gave out. She lost her balance and fell against the wall. Logan’s eyes flew open in alarm.
“Instructor Vesper!”
And at the sight that unfolded before him, he drew in a sharp breath. Pure-white panties trimmed with delicate white lace were twitching helplessly right in front of his eyes.