Proper Education
“Yo, what’s the Mercenary King doing here…?”
“Shit…!”
The entire cafeteria fell silent in an instant. Even the rowdy Iljin crew had clamped their mouths shut. I looked at them and spoke again.
“Why? Am I not allowed to eat here?”
“N-no… there are plenty of seats…”
“Why here, of all places…”
“Because I feel like it?”
It was pure coercion, really. As far as I knew, they were fourth-years. I was a first-year. This place had its own hierarchy—far stricter than anything back on modern Earth. Obviously, this wasn’t right. That was why the other Special Class students had stayed frozen in place. But I’d walked right in anyway. Sometimes, being a mercenary came in handy.
What does hierarchy matter to some ignorant mercenary?
And no one dared push back. Just like the students earlier, they were afraid of me. I grinned at the now-silent group and turned to the blue-haired guy—the leader of the Iljin crew.
“You’re Pin, right?”
“……That’s…”
He trailed off. Some random guy had suddenly shown up and asked for his name. He was probably pretty flustered. Not that I cared.
I wiped the smile off my face and asked again.
“Are you Pin? Or not?”
Maybe my expression scared him.
“N-no, sir.”
He’d used formal speech. A fourth-year speaking politely to a first-year. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he’d lied.
“Nobody who lies to me ever walks away…”
Whoosh—!
My hand began to glow white. Mana Burn—a technique only 2nd Awakening users could wield. Pin’s face turned just as pale as my hand.
“I’ll ask one more time. Are you Pin? Or not?”
“……Y-yes, sir. I am.”
“So you did lie.”
“T-that’s…”
I reached out naturally. It looked like an ordinary motion, but no one could follow it. Before anyone realized it, my hand had already grabbed Pin’s. An unbelievable speed.
“How about we shake hands?”
I squeezed his hand and poured mana into his body along with the force.
Crack.
“Aaaaargh!!”
A piercing scream echoed through the cafeteria.
“P-Pin…!!”
“L-let him go!!”
The Iljin crew shouted, but none of them moved. They only talked.
“Why? We’re just shaking hands.”
“N-no… he’s clearly in pain…”
“This is how mercenaries shake hands.”
Obviously a lie. My mana was tearing through Pin’s body. Having someone else’s mana invade your system was excruciating—I knew that from experience.
Especially when it’s from someone stronger. Feels like your whole body’s being twisted inside out, right?
I kept “shaking hands” for about thirty seconds before releasing both the grip and the mana.
Thud.
“Hah… hah…”
Pin collapsed, completely drained. His hand was swollen red, and sweat poured down his entire body. It was hard to believe all of that had happened in just thirty seconds.
I stepped closer to the boy slumped on the floor and crouched down, staring at him.
“You’re the one who stole the paper, aren’t you?”
“……!”
His eyes widened. Then he started darting them left and right.
Bingo.
But this time he didn’t lie. I was still holding his hand. He was probably terrified of feeling that pain again.
“Yes or no?”
My voice was low, but everyone heard it. The cafeteria had gone dead silent.
Just then, one of the students who’d been getting bullied spoke up—the same one who’d almost been beaten earlier.
“He didn’t steal it himself. But he’s the one smuggling it outside.”
I looked at him. He flinched immediately.
“S-sorry for speaking informally. I mean, even though you’re a fourth-year… no, even though you’re a fourth-year, sir…”
Still, he had guts. He’d been defying the Iljin crew earlier too.
Small frame, but plenty of backbone.
I nodded at him, signaling him to keep going.
“S-so… they’ve been making students hand over magic paper as tribute.”
“Paper…?”
“Yes. And then they sell it outside.”
“Interesting…”
My eyes gleamed. This was better intel than what Robin had brought.
The Iljin crew immediately protested.
“H-hey, the students are donating voluntarily!”
“Yeah! We’re just selling what they gave us to use!”
But voices rose from the crowd.
“They told us to hand over one sheet every single day!”
“That’s why everyone’s been picking up paper every morning!”
Maybe the bullied student’s courage had inspired them. Several students shouted out. The Iljin crew looked panicked. Pin, still in my grip, trembled violently.
Some still tried to talk back.
“W-what’s wrong with selling some ownerless paper anyway?!”
“R-right! We’re just taking out the trash for them!”
“Trash…?”
“Y-yeah! Trash! We’re just getting rid of stuff people threw away outside—”
He couldn’t finish. Whoosh—!! I’d unleashed a massive wave of killing intent. The loudmouth immediately started foaming at the mouth.
“Gurgle…!”
I’d focused the pressure on him alone.
“Taking out the trash, huh… Anyone else think the same?”
The cafeteria went dead silent. Everyone lowered their heads. Overwhelming someone with pure presence alone—there was no mistaking the gap in strength.
“So, to sum it up: you’ve been extorting paper from students and selling it outside. Clear as day.”
Every single Iljin member here was guilty. Of course, I wasn’t the Dark Mage Marco right now. If I were, I’d have burned them all to ash. But I was Jace Allen, the Mercenary King—and an academy student. I couldn’t just do that.
Shame… but this is a good chance to build reputation and goodwill instead.
So I chose the straightforward approach.
“All of you, follow me.”
“Huh…?”
“W-what for…”
They looked confused. I spoke clearly.
“I’m giving you a chance to turn yourselves in.”
“T-turn ourselves in?”
“We didn’t do anything that bad…”
They still didn’t understand the gravity of their actions. I raised my voice so everyone could hear.
“The crime of trading with the black market while holding the status of academy students. I’m giving you the chance to confess.”
“B-black market?!”
“Don’t tell me they sold the paper to that place that buys and sells corpses?!”
Everyone looked shocked. They’d known the paper was being sold somewhere, but apparently not that it was the black market.
“Hup…!”
“N-no… that’s…”
Every Iljin student now wore a panicked expression. Guilty as charged.
“Want to walk there yourselves? Or end up like him?”
I pointed at the student still trembling under my killing intent. He looked like he might die at this rate.
“Hup…! W-we’ll go!”
“W-we’ll turn ourselves in!”
They snapped to attention and became cooperative. Brute force really was the best way to deal with people like this. I withdrew my killing intent at their shouts, then lifted the unconscious guy with one hand like he was luggage.
“Then let’s move.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
With that, I led the ten Iljin members out of the cafeteria. Soon the entire academy was in an uproar.
***
It had been a while since the last full professors’ meeting. Every professor at the Royal Academy had gathered to discuss an urgent matter. These meetings didn’t happen often, but this time there was no choice. A massive incident had occurred.
All the professors sat around a long round table. At the head sat an elderly man with a splendid white beard—Hans Werner, the academy headmaster. He looked furious. He was famous for his fiery temper and strict nature. In short, a notoriously difficult old man. And now something disgraceful had happened at his academy. Naturally, he was livid.
He swept his angry gaze across the room. Everyone lowered their heads, intimidated. Only Archmage Armel seemed unbothered. Everyone else trembled.
Hans Werner finally spoke.
“Is what I’ve heard true? Academy students made deals with the black market… and even threatened other students into collecting magic paper for them…”
It was hard to believe, yet it was true. There were plenty of witnesses, and the culprits had already confessed. No further investigation was needed.
Just then, Thomas—the fourth-year advisor—spoke up. He had a rather sleazy-looking face.
“A-actually, it hasn’t been confirmed that it was the black market, Headmaster.”
“It hasn’t?”
“No. They did extort paper and sell it outside, but we haven’t confirmed the buyer was the black market.”
He was doing his best to shield the Iljin students—not because he liked them, but to minimize his own responsibility as their advisor. He’d known about their misdeeds all along but had turned a blind eye, finding them too troublesome to manage. Thanks to his negligence, things had escalated to this point. He bore partial blame, even if he refused to admit it.
How am I supposed to keep track of that many students?!
Just then—
Knock knock. Creak.
The meeting room door opened. A figure who hadn’t been present earlier stepped inside—Serge Geis, the Royal First Sword, holding a square box in his hands.