Marygold the Mage (5): The Substitute Professor

Becoming a substitute professor at the academy wasn't difficult at all.

As soon as a spot opened up due to an injured professor with a sprained ankle, the son of a viscount family showed up with armfuls of recommendation letters. Once his skills were verified as decent through the other professors, everything else proceeded smoothly.

"There won't be anything difficult about it. Just stay at the academy during the weekdays and guide light training for three hours a day. We'll handle the rest."

"Sounds like I can just coast through it."

"We can't expect too much from a temp. Take it easy."

The knight department professors didn't expect much from the informally selected 'substitute professor' anyway. They seemed to view Lancel as little more than a scarecrow to hold the position until a proper professor arrived.

"Just until we bring in a real professor, so please behave without any incidents."

"Of course. Though I doubt one will actually show up."

"……?"

Of course, no official professor appeared before Lancel even wanted one. The knight department at the academy was under a curse that ensured one position always remained vacant. Just like with Baron Onis. An unexplained accident would keep one seat empty indefinitely.

"Just something I said offhand."

"……I, I see."

The academy professors felt a chill at the subtle tone in Lancel's voice. They had good instincts.

In any case, the appearance of the young substitute professor in the knight department drew attention from all sides. It was only natural that he garnered interest inside and outside the academy.

"Lancel Dante? Who's that?"

"The substitute professor."

"Heard he hasn't even been a knight for five years."

"And he's teaching?"

A few voiced complaints here and there. Especially from highborn academy students. They didn't seem pleased with a professor who was barely older than them.

"Professor Lancel Dante."

Some had been wearing dissatisfied expressions from the moment Lancel first appeared on the training grounds.

"I've heard that not just anyone can be an academy professor... Your name seems too unfamiliar for me to seek instruction from you."

"……."

"I'm just questioning whether my position is truly beneath yours. I'm being frank, so don't take it to heart."

He was politely phrasing what amounted to: Who the hell are you to play professor? After all, the nominal superior-inferior relationship between professor and student at the academy disregarded noble status.

'Duke Mond's heir, Wibel Mond...'

Lancel cracked his knuckles as he eyed the delicately handsome young man wearing earrings.

"Say something, Sir Lancel Dante."

The one listed simply as 'Duke's Heir' in the game was now giving Lancel a challenging glare.

"Fine."

Lancel dumped dozens of wooden swords from the training grounds onto the ground with a clatter. The academy students stared in bewilderment at the bundle rolling across the grass.

"For our first lesson, let's see what you've got."

Lancel smiled.

"I need to confirm if you're skilled enough to question a professor's authority."

"You mean a duel?"

"Call it a duel and a test."

Lancel picked up a wooden sword and beckoned them.

"Whoever lands even a single hit on me gets a perfect score, no questions asked. How about it?"

Murmurs spread.

It was a bold condition at first glance.

"Don't you all want to graduate top of the class and bring glory to your families? Come on, grab one. First come, first served."

A few hesitated before stepping forward with wooden swords in hand.

"I'll go first. Lancel Dante."

"Bring it."

Moments later.

Groans began echoing across the training grounds.

"Aaaagh!"

"I-I lost! Aaaagh! I surrendered, why...!"

"Kwaaaagh!"

"Crawling on the ground like worms—pathetic. Next!"

"Aaaaaaaagh!"

"S-save me!"

……

"What the hell is that?"

"Looks like the new substitute professor dueling with the students...?"

"A duel? That?"

The so-called duel centered on Lancel Dante—more like assault, abuse, and one-sided violence—was only halted when passing professors spotted it.

"Stop! Stop! You'll kill someone!"

Lancel set down his wooden sword, looking at the academy students sprawled on the ground. The challenging glares directed at him had turned to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠terror in just over two hours.

Not a single knight department student, male or female, was left without bruises. Imagining actual blades, they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠realized limbs would have been lost, and their bravado crumbled.

"You have talent, but you're still far from ready. Keep at it."

After that day, no one questioned Lancel's qualifications.

Knights were knights, after all—nothing convinced them like a taste of real force.

Thus, Lancel fully settled into the academy.

"Today's lesson is."

Every time training rolled around three days a week under his charge.

"Self-study."

"Pardon?"

"Train on your own."

"Ah, yes sir."

The next day.

"Self-study."

The day after.

"Self."

The next week.

"That."

The week after.

"Thing."

"……."

It was neglect disguised as 'self-study.' Lancel did nothing in the academy but loaf around and devour bread, perfecting his do-nothing status.

The academy was an institution meant to rank knights, after all. As long as evaluations were proper, the lesson content hardly mattered.

This was especially true for the knight department. What theory was left for those who'd gripped swords since they could walk? Experience and combat mattered more.

The magic and administration departments, which emphasized scholarly learning, were a different story.

'Is Marygold still getting ostracized?'

Around then, Lancel sought out Marygold, whom he hadn't seen in a while.

"What're you doing?"

Three weeks into his stint as substitute professor, he spotted her with disheveled hair, munching on a sandwich.

"They say making friends lowers human durability."

"……."

"The perfect world where no one gets hurt."

Her state after so long was downright odd.

Unlike the knight department, where students gathered just to compete, the magic department was a proper educational facility. Elite professors from the capital lectured on their magical theories, selecting research students to develop new magic—a true 'university' function.

"You'll be late for class at this rate, miss!"

"Uwaaaah!"

"That's why I told you not to sleep in. You knew no one would wake you."

"I didn't expect you to betray me too, Pina!"

"Are you blaming me right now?"

"It's not blameeee...!"

"Just run already!"

Urged by Pina, Marygold clutched a heap of books to her chest and dashed down the hallway. Her tightly bound hair and dingy robe flapping, she hurried toward the lecture hall where class was already underway.

"Ah!"

Her ankle twisted the next instant, sending her tumbling to the floor with a crash. The books and papers she carried scattered everywhere.

"No...!"

"We're doomed. No time for this—what are you doing?"

"Uwaaaah!"

As she scrambled to gather the documents, a pale hand appeared before her, helping out.

"You okay?"

Looking up, a delicately handsome boy gazed down at her.

"I'll help pick them up."

"N-no, it's fine."

Marygold shook her head vigorously, as if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠afraid he'd insist. She swiftly gathered her scattered items.

"I got it. All done."

"……."

The boy blinked awkwardly at his withdrawn hand.

"I've been wondering... Do you avoid me, Miss Mary?"

He had an air refined enough ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to pass for a girl. Blue bob-cut hair, drooping eye corners, a faint perpetual smile, a beauty mark, pristine white robe. A young mage whose elegant looks turned heads everywhere.

"Do you hate kids getting chummy with me? Is that why you avoid me? If so, I can talk to them."

"No. It's not that."

"Then it doesn't matter. I want to be friends with you, Mary..."

"Just, just no!"

Marygold bolted down the hall without looking back.

"Ow!"

She tripped again soon after but gathered her papers without accepting his help.

"……."

The boy stood frozen, watching her vanish into the distance.

"Ah! Lord Aldebar! Class is starting—why are you here?"

He turned at the woman's voice behind him. A magic department research student approached with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling at him.

"Are you running late? It's so unlike you to be tardy. How unusual."

Just talking to him brought her joy—that was his usual image.

"I'll walk you to the lecture hall, Lord Aldebar. Hehe."

Called Aldebar, the boy pondered briefly before speaking.

"Hey. Do people hate me?"

"Pardon? W-who would hate you, Lord Aldebar?"

"Yeah."

"No way! Who'd dare hate Lord Aldebar, heir to Lukia Kingdom and the youngest 4th Rank genius mage renowned across the continent?!"

"Really?"

"Of course!"

Even her fluent flattery left Aldebar unmoved.

"But getting close to Miss Mary is tough."

"Ah, Miss Mary is..."

The research student averted her eyes slightly.

Marygold. She was already infamous as the magic department's top outcast.

"She's a bit peculiar, you know? Haha..."

"Yeah?"

"There are rumors..."

Rumors about Marygold had spread thickly through the magic department. Commoner, orphan, Jenice's disciple, magic newbie, pretty little kid, and more. But the most damaging one dated back to her early academy days.