After Leonhardt's Boastful Provocation Was Crushed by Reina's Deadly Glare
After Leonhardt's spirited taunt was swiftly quelled by one chilling glare from Reina, the rest of the practical evaluation proceeded without a hitch.
In principle, the Imperial Academy's admission cutoff was "viscount" and above. The nameless viscount brats from Class 1 took turns firing ice blasts and slicing wind, putting on their own flashy shows of magic and aura. But none of it registered in my eyes. I was too busy soothing the temper of the beast right next to me—the one who could demolish the training grounds again at any moment—while gripping her leash like my life depended on it. I didn't have a milligram of mental bandwidth left to care about these pampered kids' fireworks.
"Th-that concludes... the first practical evaluation."
The moment Arthur the professor's pale lips declared the end of class, I shed tears of blood inside. I hadn't broken a physical sweat, but the mental exhaustion was worse than supervising two straight nights of late-night cram sessions back in my high school teaching days. My scant life force was already scraping the bottom of the barrel.
I survived. Lunchtime at last.
Clutching my frayed nerves, I let Reina lead the way to the Imperial Academy's grand dining hall.
"Only Lady Astrea may enter."
At the entrance to the second-floor VVIP terrace seating, a stern-faced dining hall manager in a crisp uniform blocked my path.
"Pardon?"
I feigned ignorance, and his gaze locked onto the shabby purple name tag on my chest.
"The young master from a baron's house is not permitted. This is an exclusive area for high nobility."
Ah, this filthy classism. Even the rice bowls are segregated.
I let out a deep internal sigh and plastered on my salesman smile. Just then, the air around Reina's eyes grew icy, a displeased gravitational field starting to creep in. Before she could cleave the manager in half, I jumped in.
"Hahaha, you must not have heard."
I whipped out a worn, crumpled sheet from my pocket and thrust it before his eyes. It was an all-access imperial pass, stamped with the emperor's personal signature and a massive imperial seal.
"I have to stay right by the lady's side at all times. His Majesty granted special permission himself."
"Th-this is... His Majesty's seal...?!"
The manager's pupils shook like they were in an earthquake as he verified the document. Pale and flustered, he stepped aside, and I boldly flung open the massive oak doors to the terrace with a dramatic creak.
Kiiiek—
The moment the doors swung wide, I collided head-on with dozens of stares filling the terrace. The second-floor VVIP area, moments ago buzzing with the clink of fine silverware and suffocating factional standoffs, fell into a deathly silence.
...What? I'm just here to eat. Why the staring contest?
I swept my eyes over the onslaught of gazes and clicked my tongue inwardly. At the window tables, our Class 1 VVIPs—Julian, Elarra, Bastian, and the rest—watched me with stiff expressions. But what caught my eye were the unfamiliar faces at the deepest, head table. Their name tags had different colors and trims from ours.
Ah, second- and third-year seniors?
I'd memorized the profiles of our first-year Class 1 brats before the semester started, but I had no clue which dukes or marquises these upperclassmen hailed from. Still, their curious faces and the way they drilled into the "imperial permission slip" in my hand were crystal clear. A lowly baron's spawn shouldn't even set foot in this school, let alone waltz into the VVIP terrace arm-in-arm with the empire's top sword. They couldn't wrap their heads around this freakish scene.
Aigoo. Didn't these rich kids learn table manners? One baron shows up, and now the upperclassmen are joining the eye-bullying. Exhausting.
I brushed off the heavy stares and plopped down at an empty table in the terrace center. The moment I sat, dedicated chefs began setting out the premium course meal. Juicy marbled steaks dripping with juices and fresh salads drizzled in sauce adorned the table lavishly.
Kreugh, this is high-noble academy cafeteria class alright.
Buzzing from the feast after so long, I grabbed my fork—then my gaze naturally drifted to Reina across from me. She elegantly and deftly sliced her steak with her gloved hand, slipping it into her mouth.
Just recently, before I'd gotten her those special dragon leather gloves, mealtimes with her had been pure disasters. One grip on a fork shattered plates; a knife turned premium hardwood tables into tofu. Yet here she was, handling the cutlery so tamely, sitting across from me and eating steak like a normal person. Memories of my tearful years spent socializing(?) her flashed by, bringing a strange swell of emotion.
Good job, my kid. Finally eating like a human.
As I watched her meal with a pleased smile, I noticed something. Her fork stabbed busily only at the meat plate, ignoring the fresh salad beside it. And even while chewing, her sticky gaze stayed glued to my face.
......Sentimental my ass. Look at this picky eater. She's gonna get nutrient deficiencies.
My K-grandpa-teacher mealtime occupational hazard kicked in without fail. Even the empire's top sword was just an 18-year-old brat picking out veggies and chowing only meat in my eyes. With a tired face, I slid my salad plate toward her.
"Student. Eating only meat gives you constipation. Chew some greens too."
I tossed the gentle scolding softly, glancing at the onlookers. Reina, mid-chew, set her knife down with a clink, propped her gloved chin, and stared at me.
"No. Greens taste bad."
"You eat for taste? It's for health. You need vitamins to smash those hulking beasts."
"Still no. But......"
She leaned forward slightly, whispering languidly and sweetly.
"If Cadel feeds it to me with that hand, I'll chew it once."
I let out a baffled chuckle.
Aigoo, an 18-year-old high schooler throwing a tantrum at the table. She can use a fork, so why? Do I have to do cafeteria supervision too?
"Aish, now I'm even doing feeding duty. What crime did I commit in my past life......"
I sighed deeply, picked up my fork, speared a heaping of dressing-soaked lettuce and tomato, and casually shoved it toward her slightly open mouth as she propped her chin.
"Here, ahh. Don't swallow without chewing, or you'll get indigestion."
Reina beamed the most ecstatic smile in the world, gladly taking the veggies from my fork tip and munching away. As she brushed back her silver hair, her obsessive fixation seemed to drip from her red lips mid-chew—but my weary brain just dismissed it as Aigoo, my picky student is finally eating veggies.
That instant—
Clang—! Crash!
Silver trays dropped and forks clattered on marble floors across the silent second-floor terrace in a chain reaction.
"......Huh?"
I paused wiping Reina's mouth with a napkin and glanced around. One second- or third-year senior at the head table had spat out his wine, staining his chest red. Julian by the window was frozen mid-slice like a statue. Even Chloe the marquess lady, who always hid behind her fan with feigned poise, had dropped it, mouth agape.
...What? Why's everyone like that? Group freeze tag during lunch?
Their shocked stares zeroed in on the exact spot: the silver fork tip that had gone into Reina's mouth and come out with veggies.
The dozens of piercing gazes felt suffocating.
Aigoo. Feeding veggies at lunch—what's the big deal staring like that? Do rich kids starve picky eaters? Noble family education is harsh.
I tsked, carved a big chunk of my cooling steak, and shoved it in.
"Tough. My jaw's gonna fall off."
Premium marbled beef my ass—it was just greasy and heavy for my chronic-fatigue self.
"Student, chew slowly. Tomorrow lunch, I'm heading to the first floor for hot soup... no, a bowl of meat stew."
"Okay. If Cadel feeds me again, I'll go to the first floor and eat pleb stew too."
"No, why chase me to the first floor leaving this pricey VVIP meat? Student, let me eat in peace sometimes."
Please, just one meal alone quietly!!
My desperate inner plea didn't reach her by a millimeter. Reina pouted her salad-munching lips, then clutched my arm tightly with her gloved hand.
"No! Cadel's my exclusive knight. The emperor's permission slip you showed that guy said you have to stick by my side. Even when I eat."
"Haa... that damn 24-hour close protection. I must've sold out my country in my past life."
I thunked my forehead on the table with a deep sigh. Even as a high school homeroom teacher, I didn't follow kids to lunch for supervision. This was extreme.
"Huh? Cadel, what'd you say?"
"Nothing. If you wanna follow to the first floor tomorrow, you gotta chew all the carrots and onions in the stew. No pickies, or no broth."
"Okay! If Cadel feeds me mouth-to-mouth, I'll eat all the carrots."
Under the watchful eyes of the empire's future pillars, who couldn't even swallow a bite in stunned silence, our peaceful-yet-freakish lunch continued—with me nagging solo in comfort.