Before Becoming a Professor: The Capital, Ernes
Passing through the checkpoint into the city, the sheer density of the bustling crowds momentarily took my breath away. Yet despite the congestion, there was no chaos. Carriages moved orderly along the paved roads, while pedestrians kept to the sidewalks.
Especially remarkable for this era, the streets were impeccably clean. The towering clock tower proclaimed the time: 11:50 a.m.
Plenty of time to spare.
The letter had specified 1:00 p.m., so I waited patiently in the carriage as it approached the mansion I'd purchased in the capital.
Impressive...
Stepping out as the carriage halted, I couldn't help but admire the grandeur of the estate. Ferzen's memories held only vague knowledge of its existence—he'd never seen it in person—so the sight stirred fresh awe. The exterior resembled a miniature Versailles Palace. Beyond the gilded gates lay an artificial lake harmoniously blended with manicured gardens. No live-in staff, apparently, but a gardener must have been retained, as the grounds were pristine.
Click.
Inside, however, dust blanketed everything, a stark contrast to the pristine facade after years of neglect. I instructed the maids who'd followed to start cleaning immediately, then ascended to the third-floor bedroom with Euphemia.
"If there's any furniture or items you want, go out and buy them with the maids. I won't be back until late afternoon or evening anyway."
"O-okay..."
Watching her nod listlessly, I changed clothes. Euphemia was in a fragile state, her self-esteem eroded by repeated subjugation. Even if she didn't want it, she had no pillar of support to lean on. She hadn't even imagined Ciel Midford coming for her, and setting aside her personal feelings, the marriage process had been rough but legitimate.
That's why I planned to impregnate her. For someone adrift without purpose, nothing would motivate her like a child.
"Euphemia."
"Y-yes...?"
"I'm off."
"...Come back safe."
Her words rang hollow, mere formality, souring my mood briefly. But it was still a send-off of sorts. I left the mansion and boarded the carriage.
"Drive on."
The Academy, newly completed on the outskirts of Ernes, centered around the main building, flanked by two lecture halls and dormitories.
Oddly familiar...
Perhaps the architecture evoked old foreign universities, stirring faint memories of my first overseas trip.
Others are arriving too.
A line of carriages stretched from the main gate to the parking lot behind the central building. Naturally, the one emblazoned with the Alfred family's purple rose crest caught my eye first.
Uriel Wayne Daina Alfred...
She must be inside. If we crossed paths, I'd stay composed to avoid deepening our rift. Exiting the parked carriage, I retrieved a stylish cane from my subspatial pocket.
"..."
The motion felt utterly natural—no questions arose. Yet in a crowd, Ferzen habitually carried a cane, so it made sense.
Screech!
"..."
As I moved to walk, the Alfred carriage pulled alongside. Parking next to Brutein's crest was bold; most avoided it, leaving ample space. But the Alfreds harbored long-standing inferiority toward Brutein. Was this mere convenience, or a defiant statement that they belonged side by side?
Clunk!
"Don't get the wrong idea."
A beauty with black hair slightly lighter than Ferzen's emerged: Uriel Wayne Daina Alfred. Her gothic black coat, embroidered cape draping over it, short skirt revealing long legs, and wide-brimmed hat screamed mage.
"This spot had the most spa—ghk!"
Striding toward me, she impaled herself on my outstretched cane at chest height, collapsing with a lewd groan.
Evidently, the cane warned against unsolicited proximity.
"Y-you... are you insane?!"
Tears welling, she glared venomously.
"If you have something to say, do it from there."
"Just tell me not to come closer...!"
"If that's all, I'm leaving."
Turning away decisively, she scrambled up and blocked my path—precisely at cane's reach.
"I parked here because it was the widest spot."
"Is that all you wanted to say?"
"Hmph. Don't pretend you weren't inwardly scorning us Alfreds for daring to park beside Brutein. Your thoughts are obvious. Others might not see it, but I know you, Ferzen."
"..."
"W-what?"
Silently staring, she fidgeted, adjusting her hat.
"Uriel Wayne Daina Alfred."
"What."
"Don't claim to understand me when you're beneath notice. It's unpleasant."
One meeting and family ties, and she presumed insight? Absurd. Even if she knew of my OCD, could she grasp even 10% of its cruelty?
"Don't overtrust your shallow judgment."
No benefit in prolonging this. I turned sharply toward the main building.
"..."
And Uriel walked beside me. Our eyes met; she flinched.
"We're just going the same way. I'm not following you."
"Childish then, exhausting now."
Her Brutein paranoia—Alfred blood curse? Sighing inwardly, I entered the building and headed for the dean's office.
Consulting the first-floor directory, I still ended up wrong.
Where was this?
"The dean's office is to the right, not left."
"...Then why follow?"
"Y-you marched so confidently... I thought maybe I was wrong..."
"Can't even commit to your own convictions? Pathetic."
"Hey! You're the one lost!"
"I didn't know and erred. You knew and still erred. Not the same. Stop whining."
"Fine. Whatever..."
She stormed off disgustedly. I followed—to the dean's office.
"Mm..."
In the Academy dean's office, the First Imperial Princess—Elizabeth—rose from her desk, gazing at the gathering carriages outside.
Brutein and Alfred...
Their ornate crests dominated. Brutein's prestige outshone Alfred's, yet ironically, the imperial family favored the latter. The weight differed: Brutein bled for the emperor alone, their loyalty priceless post-succession, unbound by other houses. But rigid, inflexible—like a stern father. Powerful ally, yet hard to maneuver.
Alfreds were more pliable.
"Everyone's assembled outside."
"Let them in."
At her maid's report, Elizabeth settled comfortably to receive those answering the imperial summons.
Entering the dean's office, I never once met the First Imperial Princess—Elizabeth's—gaze. High chance her presence would trigger my OCD. Imperial women bore "brands" of immense value; high society revolved around them. Artisans gifted incessantly, so noblewomen glittered with accessories. Gazing risked torment.
Thus, I quietly perused the Academy overview documents.
Blessed by the God of Wisdom, indeed.
Commoners could enroll with sponsors, but equality under "student" status was fantasy. Extreme analogy: cramming Jews and Nazis in one school. Ironically, to shield commoners from scorn, strict segregation was key. Documents mandated commoner meals in dorm cafeterias at staggered times. Despite separate halls, classes alternated perfectly—no overlaps.
Many such measures, none unjust. Nobles got single rooms; commoners quadruple. Under controlled discrimination, it fostered bonds—a solid plan.
Surprising depth from imperial blood.
Not necessarily.
Early centralization favored talented commoners over entangled nobles. Commoner professors were imperial direct. Sponsors likely traced to the palace.
Ambitious.
Finishing, I pocketed the documents.
"The first floor employs Rosenberg academy instructors for long-term syllabus aid."
"May I bring them to my mansion?"
"They'd suffocate. Denied."
"..."
"Speak if unclear, or revisions needed. Otherwise, inspect your classrooms and offices."
Nobles glanced my way. Even before the princess, none dared rise first—hoping I'd lead, shielding them.
Follow Brutein? Natural.
"Then I'll go first."
I stood. Hesitantly, others followed.
No burden. People trailing Brutein's back was inevitable.
Here it is.
Declining a group tour, I entered my assigned classroom alone.
"Ah..."
Ferzen hadn't experienced this, but Seojin had—nostalgia washed over me. Vast blackboard, tidy chalk on the podium. Chalk required skill, but my calligraphy talent smoothed it.
No triggers.
Desks at proper distance from podium—safe. Idly, I pulled a chair and sat. Old memories billowed like clouds.
But shaking them off, I rose and pushed it in.
"..."
Then I spotted the issue.
Right. This won't do.
Post-class, what odds students aligned chairs perfectly? Even ordered, excess force would drag desks awry. Cumulative misalignment would flip my OCD switch. And seated students fidget—arrangements would scatter inevitably.
"..."
Solution crystallized simply. Retrieving paper from my ring's subspatial storage and fountain pen from my pocket, I began.
Altering interiors needed princess approval, even at personal expense—formal report required.
Content straightforward: Replace Black Magic classroom desks. The new ones would avert me becoming the worst professor, even if dubbed the worst room.
21st-century university demon: combo desks. Public enemy of students.
Villain as I was, this mischief seemed fine. Seojin's surging empathy pricked my conscience, but I ignored it. Comfort first.