The Delinquent's Unexpected Response

Maness turned his head, and the first thing etched into his mind was the other's sneering expression, as if looking down on him. The bushy brown hair was unkempt, but his healthy complexion and plump build screamed "spoiled young master from a wealthy house." He knew who it was right away. Kyle, the protagonist, and a classmate. Heir to the Boron Trading Company. Morras Boron.

"…Who are you?"

"A guy who can't even recognize his own rival calling himself an heir? The Pictri Trading Company's luck must have run out."

He'd only asked because he didn't want to play along with the pretense, but that just made the other side mock him even harder. Still, Maness felt no anger or anything like it. Morras's barbed words were pure vanity from the start. The Boron company had long been outpaced by Pictri in their rivalry. For their heir to pick a fight like this, it had to be about tarnishing his reputation.

The stage was set—perfect. For some reason, after enrollment, Maness had played the delinquent role, and all Morras had to do was poke at him. Induce a heated reaction, and the delinquent would sink even lower.

"Morras, heir to the Boron Trading Company, which will one day swallow up Pictri."

"…Yeah, Morras."

The old Maness would have risen to the bait. He'd caused endless trouble until he got expelled. But the man Morras faced now was entirely different. No need to fall for such petty schemes.

Maness stepped forward. The eyes watching this head-on shifted to the delinquent's sturdy arms as he approached with confident strides. Rumors said the Pictri heir trained his body relentlessly to prepare for threats during business trips. Sure, he hired mercenaries for journeys, but Robert Pictri was never satisfied. His son ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Maness must have grown up the same way.

As the heavy arm rose slowly, Morras squeezed his eyes shut and raised both arms in defense.

Tap, tap.

"……?"

Morras's eyes blinked rapidly soon after. Contrary to expectations of a flying fist, the delinquent had only gently patted his tense shoulders.

"We're in the same business. Nice to meet you."

The guy even smiled kindly. If he were an ordinary person, Morras would have smiled back brightly. But who was Maness?

- Hey, you made eye contact with me. Got a problem or something?

The type to spit complaints over a passing glance. No way he'd respond this sweetly to a provocation.

"Wh-what's your schemeeee!"

Morras slapped away the hand on his shoulder and stumbled back, falling flat on his ass. Maness let out a quiet, dry chuckle.

Figures it wouldn't work. Even approaching with maximum goodwill, the other side interpreted it differently. The delinquent image was too deeply ingrained.

"Anyway, let's get along from now on."

Shaking off the bitterness, Maness left a curt greeting and hurried away. Morras could only stare blankly at his retreating back.

The place called the Garden of Learning. The vast open area was adorned with vibrant flower beds, benches and tables scattered here and there to foster camaraderie. In the center stood a fountain far grander than any he'd seen, spraying rainbows into the air.

Over there, I guess.

Maintaining a distance where the fountain's spray wouldn't reach, Maness approached the bulletin board and quickly scanned it.

"As expected."

- 1st Year Class 1.
- Maness Pictri.

His name was proudly listed in the class with all the main characters from Tales Saga. Morras, whom he'd run into on the way, was in Class 1 too. Nothing had changed from the original.

Feeling the surrounding students give him space firsthand, Maness sank into thought. Even placed in the same class as the protagonists, the original Maness never got involved with them. Naturally—he was an extra who exited the game early via expulsion.

The only contact point was snapping "get lost" at Kyle during first-period greetings.

Tough.

From now on, he'd have to watch over the protagonists in this delinquent's body while keeping relations as neutral as possible. Not annoying them, but not getting too close either.

It'll work out somehow.

Maness grabbed a guidebook from beside the board and headed to the Dormitory.

No need to wander outside anymore. He'd confirmed the layout matched the game, the protagonists' presence, and class assignments. The key now was planning ahead….

Gazing out the window as he organized his thoughts, Maness caught his breath and sat at the desk. Flipping open the guidebook revealed Snowrobe's map, intro, and basic curriculum.

First up: the curriculum.

Snowrobe, with its magic academy badge, didn't focus solely on magic. True to its reputation as the continent's cradle, it taught everything. Beyond basics like history, geography, and literature, students could choose electives based on aptitude: swordsmanship, martial arts, alchemy, and more.

"What to pick…."

When choices are hard, eliminate first. Avoid anything tying him to the protagonists.

That ruled out swordsmanship, martial arts, and magic.

Swordsmanship was protagonist Kyle de Pantia's main subject. From the swordmaster Pantia family. Their swiftblade style was among the continent's best. Legends even said the first duke earned his title with swordsmanship alone, winning the king's favor.

Kyle had unique flair too, but that wasn't relevant now.

Martial arts was out because of Conien Mactatum. Proud heir of northern nomads. A monster who could flatten knights barehanded. Antisocial, but he'd bond closely with Kyle later—no point getting near him.

And magic was Iris Jerman….

Maness's thoughts froze.

Magic.

Swordsmanship and martial arts were single classes, but magic was different. An abstract power, impossible to define simply, split into specialized fields. Like swordsmanship, archery, and spearmanship under martial arts, magic branched endlessly. Elemental magic alone had varieties; spirit arts and alchemy fell under it too.

If talented, magic was the smart pick. Versatile in every way. Even for future trading company work, magic beat combat skills useful only against bandits or monsters.

Lectures split into multiples, so he might avoid Iris.

Decision made, Maness straightened his posture, hands neatly folded.

Among all subjects, magic was most talent-dependent. Without aptitude, even intent to learn wasted time. First class would likely sense innate mana.

He knew the method—no need to wait.

"Hoo…."

Eyes closed, deep breath. Imagine becoming the world's center, existing alone. Dive inward until feeling something churning like blood inside.

That was mana. Untapped, innate.

Grasp the flow, then understand it. Some rises, some falls. Some spins in place. Track without losing it to find where it converges.

Got it.

The mental image manifested. The Mana Well, called that for a reason. A unique space uniting mind and senses, feeling only the body's mana.

…Just this much?

Reaching the Mana Well at last, Maness felt faint disappointment. Settings said first-timers might collapse from mental fatigue. But he felt nothing.

Either he hadn't found the core, or his mana was too ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠weak to react.

The latter meant no magic talent.

Recalling the line from Tales Saga, Maness chuckled inwardly. What had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he expected from a delinquent expelled from school?

At least no fainting from fatigue.

With that bitter reflection, as he tried to pull back—

Whoosh—

Maness refocused on the surging sensation. Like a distant torrent rushing in. An indescribable fine shiver spread through his body.

The sensation ballooned rapidly. It didn't take long to recognize it.

Mana.

Immense.

The wave of mana crashed over him, and Maness sank beneath it.

After first reaching the Mana Well, Maness repeated the process. Each time, the same vast mana welcomed him.

From identical experiences, doubt arose.

What the hell is this guy?

With this much mana, yet overlooked, playing delinquent till expulsion?

Couldn't claim ignorance—most reached it after a few classes.

…Whatever, thinking changes nothing.

At Letos Hall, the building honoring one of Snowrobe's four founders, Retos. Maness steadied his breath outside Class 1's back door.

Nothing special about the deep breaths. He was late.

Not lost, not sidetracked helping someone. Aftermath of being caught in his mana.

Repeated visits to the Mana Well led to blackout from aftereffects. The deep sleep that followed was too deep.

He'd skipped the initial fatigue everyone felt. It accumulated invisibly until now.

Only the professor's voice came from inside. Students silent, focused.

Steady his mind, time it right, strike when perfect.

Creaaaaak—

Best effort, but pointless. Unlubricated lately, the sliding door scraped the floor, announcing the delinquent's arrival.

The classroom scene was enough to unsettle Maness. Breeze through open windows rustling light curtains. Sunlight not harsh, but soft like butterfly dust.

The ideal classroom anyone would imagine. In that peace, dozens of stares pinned him.

"…What's your name?"

"Maness, sir."

"Then you know I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠know you."

The professor at the podium knew Maness, just as Maness knew him. Black parted hair, sharp features. Known among students as "viper" more than by name. Hiteri Solik. Class 1's homeroom professor.

He exuded the described piercing aura.

"I asked even knowing you to etch your name in these students' minds."

"……."

"No need, though—you're already infamous, Pictri heir?"

Seated students exchanged glances. The notorious delinquent Maness. Hardly anyone picked fights with him. Yesterday, classmate Morras even backed away from his killing intent and fell.

How would he act toward a professor? Everyone but meditating, arms-crossed Conien watched eagerly.

The answer that came disappointed all.

"Sorry."