19. Hmm, Just Another Common Slave?

The area near the main gate was packed to bursting. Endless lines of people filled every inch of space, calling to mind nothing so much as a military boot camp.

The entrance exam itself was still two days away, yet the registration line alone had already swelled to this size.

I'd read on the wiki that this was what admissions season at Caesus Academy looked like every year.

Fewer than a hundred students were admitted annually, but applicants numbered in the hundreds of times that. Anyone was free to try — and anyone who managed to graduate could rewrite their entire life.

The general division didn't even charge tuition, so aspirants flooded in from every corner of the continent. Parents and escorts alike crowded the grounds; there was no shortage of hawkers and swindlers either.

Since I'd have to wait a while regardless, I decided to check my status once more.

"Status window."

Hmm.

For some inexplicable reason, my Professor Series skill level was strangely high already.

These were skills supposedly unlocked when I'd acquired the Chair Professor class — except I had no memory of ever teaching anyone anything in my life.

Though, come to think of it, there was one possible explanation.

Someone on the internet I'd never even met got a fact wrong?! That I cannot forgive!

Maybe it was all those years spent as a wikignome — reading through articles, editing them, and, whenever an edit war broke out, dragging my opponent into the talk page to demolish them in a flame war.

I was reading through the skill descriptions, mulling over how to put them to use, when someone grabbed my arm.

"Hey. Applicants with lowly jobs need to go through a security screening. Learn to read the posted notices properly!"

It was one of the academy's guards. When I turned to meet his eyes, his scowl only deepened.

"Judging by your age, you're not even an applicant. You're no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠guardian either — suspicious. Come with me!"

Well, that worked out nicely. He'd make a perfectly adequate tour guide.

The guard shoved me roughly by the back and marched me down a side alley toward a passage along the outer wall. There, a crowd of men whose faces looked nasty at a glance were lined up undergoing inspection.

Porter, Undertaker — every one of them bore a lowly job on their nametag.

"Add one more to the pile."

"You people never get old, do you. And what's this — a slave merchant? You've got some nerve loitering around the academy. Don't tell me that face of yours thinks it's an applicant?"

The assembled guards erupted into mocking laughter. I stepped forward and addressed the captain of the guard.

"Does this inner passage lead into the academy?"

"What? Why, what would you want with that? You lot don't even have a decent job to swap your nametags ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for — you're hopeless. Give up on empty dreams and go home."

"I see you're a noble somewhere, judging by that castle ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you live in — you clearly have no grasp of your station. Here at the academy, pedigree is trash. Don't get any ideas about lording it over people."

The guards bared their teeth. I checked each of their faces and nametags one by one, committing them to memory.

"Phil, Bermerth, Ullrull, Mundu. Noted."

"What?"

"Item Box."

A black hole opened in the air to my right.

"An Item Box…?!"

Ignoring the startled guards, I reached into the void and drew out a single object.

The black card I'd received from the Headmaster — the academy's highest-grade access pass.

I ran a finger lightly along the line down its center, and the card, recognizing my mana, shimmered with a brilliant glow.

"Huh?"

"What is that, and what's it supposed to—"

"HUUURGH!!!"

While most of them stood frozen in shock, one man recognized what it was and went pale with horror. He dropped to his knees on the spot — hard enough that I could almost hear his joints crack.

"A Chair Professor!! We beg your forgiveness! We never dreamed you'd be in a place like this…!"

At the word Chair Professor, the other guards snapped out of their daze, took a good look at the pass, and immediately began kneeling as well.

"We apologize!"

"Please forgive our insolence!"

Murmurs rippled through the applicants still waiting in line for inspection.

"What's a Chair Professor?"

"You don't even know that? They're the top professors at the academy! Here, they're basically kings!"

"Then why's his nametag like that?"

"No idea, but that's badass as hell. Professor Slave Merchant!"

I gestured for the guards to rise.

"I'll trouble you for an escort. Which way to the Earth Hall professor's office?"

"We shall escort you at once! Please, follow us!"

The guards snapped to attention with military crispness and flanked me on both sides. Together we passed through the wall passage and into the academy grounds.

"Hmm."

Once we were past the thick castle walls, it felt as though I'd stepped into a paradise. If anything, the inside was sunnier and the breeze fresher. Perhaps it was the effect of the Goddess's blessing, or some lingering grace of the divine.

The grounds were staggeringly vast — more than the eye could take in at once. Buildings and fields for every manner of research had been laid out in lavish variety.

With the academy still on winter break and only second- and third-years staying behind for advancement, the student body should have been sparse. Yet the campus brimmed with energy, and the number of faculty actually seemed to outnumber them.

"Is that building over there a training ground?"

"Ah, yes, sir! That's the swordsmanship training hall! The one behind it is the archery range!"

"Walk me through them one by one, if you would."

From then on, the guard — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bursting with enthusiastic vigor — announced the name and purpose of every new building that came into view.

Broadly speaking, the grounds seemed divided into sections for martial arts, magic, healing arts, applied studies, research buildings, and club facilities.

The final area we arrived at was the dormitory quarter. There stood the Fire Hall in its flamboyant splendor, the Water Hall in its graceful elegance, and the Wind Hall, reminiscent of a grand cathedral.

"And this is the Earth Hall, Professor!"

After a long stroll across the grounds, we came to a stop in front of one particular building. I gave my honest impression.

"A graveyard?"

"No, it's… a dormitory."

Nestled in a pitch-dark, untended forest stood a building of timber and stone. It was large, certainly, but it looked less like a dormitory and more like ruins — as though a horde of demons had swept through and left it for dead.

A sigh escaped me unbidden.

"Th-then, shall we take our leave?"

When I turned my head, the guards flinched and shuddered.

"I still remember your names, mind you."

"W-we're truly sorry! We'll apologize however you demand, just please—!"

"No further apology is necessary. I've already received it, and it holds little value to me. I'd rather receive something profitable."

"Pardon? Profitable, you say…?"

"Consider it a transaction."

I took out pen and paper, scrawled a few lines, and handed the note to the guards.

"Should applicants bearing these nametags arrive, let them pass inspection without obstruction and report to me. They're people with no real issues, mind you. In exchange, I'll consider you forgiven."

"U-understood! Thank you, sir!"

The guards saluted me and fled as though running for their lives.

I turned my gaze back to the Earth Hall.

Three years here, then.

The natural lighting was dreadful, but at least it'd be cool in the summer, I suppose.

Headmaster, you bastard. If it turns out the interior facilities are just as shabby, I'll pluck out what little hair you have left. And your beard too, for symmetry's sake.

I opened the door and stepped into the dormitory.

"It reeks."

It wasn't the smell of neglect or poor upkeep. The building itself was as magnificent as befit the academy.

The odor hanging thick from the lobby onward was, to put it figuratively, the scent of the defeated.

"Whoa."

My eyes met those of a few second-years passing through the second-floor corridor, but none of them had much life in them. They showed little interest in me and shuffled on their way.

I walked the hall until I found the professor's office assigned to me. Without hesitation, I pushed open its rather elegant door and went inside.

"Ah, ahem — you've arrived! Cough, cough!"

There was already a woman inside.

Her curls reached down to her waist, and it looked as though she hadn't washed them in days — matted, tangled, and thoroughly uncomfortable to behold. Her slouching clothes hung off her enormous chest, sagging so loosely they somehow looked worn-out.

Behind her glasses, a pair of huge, lifeless eyes were busy hauling in armfuls of books and documents — she'd evidently been in the middle of tidying the room. Even without checking her nametag, her occupation was easy enough to guess.

A slave.

No — a slip of the tongue.

A graduate student.

"And where exactly do you think you're going?"

"The Academy."

At Luca's flat, matter-of-fact reply, Aisha went rigid on the spot as though she'd locked eyes with Medusa.

"Lucas."

"Yeah, big sis?"

"I took you in and cared for you from the day you first came to the Empire."

"Yep."

"Once a week I climbed that godforsaken mountain to see you — taught you the sword, cooked your meals."

"Yep."

"Fine, it started because the Emperor ordered it. But we became family, didn't we?"

"Yep."

KRA-BOOOOM!

Aisha's aura, erupting faster than she could hold it back, shredded the ground where she stood.

"Then you've done your duty, so you should be coming HOME!! You just slew the Demon King, and now you want to go to an academy? What academy?! If you leave, I can't go back either! That lunatic Emperor will throw a lifelong tantrum if he has to go back without you!!"

Luca, meanwhile, answered in the same level tone, not a single degree of warmth added or removed.

"I'm going to the Academy."

"AAARGH!!! Why! Why, why on earth?!?!"

Aisha, the Sword Saint.

Setting Luca aside, she was officially the youngest Sword Saint on the continent — the girl they called a prodigy of the blade.

She'd taken up the sword from birth and cut down every man bold enough to approach her with brute strength; enlisted at sixteen, reached Sword Saint at nineteen, and was granted the rank of general at twenty-two.

Thanks to that fierce, untouchable image, not a single man had approached her in the ten years since — not even now, at thirty-one.

Her expedition had eaten up two whole years and pushed her past the age of thirty. Late as it was, this should have been the moment.

The moment to toss aside the army and the title alike and seize her final chance to meet a fresh, eligible man.

"The Academy takes THREE YEARS, you know!!!"

The aura she vented, thick with years of bottled-up grievance, made heaven and earth tremble from top to bottom.