Chapter 117: The Apology
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 117: The Apology
"Oh? So you aren't having class after all?"
Muen returned to the martial arts arena, only to find it shrouded in darkness, all light seemingly blocked out. Only at the center, a magic instrument was projecting a scene of two martial artists dueling.
It was just like watching a movie.
It wasn't hard to guess that Teacher Kade had told them to study on their own while he took Kelun’s ice sculpture to settle the score with the Pink Bear. For Teacher Kade—who valued his lessons so much he’d scold a student just for looking tired—to ditch class and leave them to self-study meant he was absolutely livid.
But this worked out perfectly.
Muen walked to the very center of the arena and stepped on the magic instrument, cutting the recording. Instantly, the arena was flooded with light.
The students, eyes not yet adjusted to the sudden change, stared blankly at the center of the arena. Or rather, they stared at Muen.
"Muen Campbell?"
After a brief silence, someone snapped out of it, their expression souring. "What are you doing back here?"
"Hmm? I can't come back?" Muen looked over, feigning confusion. "I believe I have every right to attend this class."
"If you're here for class, then stay for class! Why did you turn off the recording?" someone shouted indignantly.
"You're interrupting our studies!"
"Heh, I’ve never seen you lot so studious before," Muen quipped. He began to walk forward, his footsteps echoing clearly—one step, then another.
With every step he took, the faces of certain students grew a shade paler.
Muen took his time scrutinizing them, matching their faces one by one with the memories in his head. Finally, he reached a spot near the spectator stands. He grabbed a chair, placed it behind him, and sat down, facing the crowd.
"You know, I used to be a real scumbag."
As soon as the words left Muen’s mouth, everyone froze. They hadn't expected him to start by insulting himself. What kind of tactic was this? Was he trying to highlight his own ruthlessness by self-destructing?
Muen ignored them and continued, "But now, I don't want to be a scumbag anymore. Yet, there are always people who still think of me as a piece of trash. I don't blame them; people have stereotypes, and changing one's image in the eyes of others is a very long process. So, I’m working hard at it. Even if... well, the results are minimal, I am trying."
"According to my original plan, I wasn't going to come back. After all, it’s just a few insults; they don't mean much to me. I could have just endured it and let it pass. I’m used to it anyway, and it would have helped me project an image of being magnanimous."
"But, in the end, it’s still incredibly annoying."
"As a certain overbearing President said, looking like a kicked puppy is disgusting. So, I came back. And since I'm back, I can't just let this slide."
"Before, when those people were badmouthing me, I couldn't really do anything to them. In a sense, they were talking about the old me, so they were telling the truth. But—"
Muen suddenly grinned, his expression turning pleasant. "Isn't this a stroke of luck? I can't do anything to them, but I can certainly do something to you. After all—didn't you say it yourselves? If you do something wrong, you have to apologize."
"What is that supposed to mean?" someone barked. "Are you planning to take on all of us?"
"Now, that’s not the right way to put it. What do you mean, 'all of us'? I counted—there are only thirty-five of you."
Muen’s expression turned cold. He raised his hand and pointed at the group. "I know most of you were just following the crowd, jumping on the bandwagon, or just looking for a thrill. But—just as you demanded an apology from me when you thought I was the oppressor, now that you've become the oppressors and I'm the victim... shouldn't you come over, one by one, and apologize?"
Silence fell over the arena.
Everyone seemed stunned by the golden-haired man’s sheer audacity.
An apology? From everyone?
Did he not understand that there is safety in numbers? Even a teacher wouldn't try to punish everyone in a situation like this!
"Muen Campbell, you're too arrogant!"
Unable to stomach the humiliation, one of the most vocal students from earlier slammed his hand on a table and stood up. "Even if there are only thirty-five of us, that represents thirty-five noble families! Even if you are the son of a Duke, you can't—"
"Teke Rhode, right?" Muen interrupted.
The boy named Teke Rhode clearly hadn't expected Muen to know his name. His face twisted uncomfortably.
"I remember you. You're the son of a Count. A prestigious status. The House of Rhode isn't some minor family; they hold quite a bit of power in Belland."
"Since you know that—"
"But you seem to have three older brothers," Muen noted. "If I recall correctly, you're only fourth in line for the succession."
Teke’s face went pale instantly. "So what?"
Muen didn't answer. He simply offered a thin smile. Then:
"Brufen Ted, sixth son of Marquis Ted."
"Guqi Sloan, fifth son of Count Sloan."
"And..."
Muen called out name after name. Just as he was about to finish naming all thirty-five, he clapped his hands.
"Alright. Now, those of you whose names I just called, tell me... can you truly represent your families?"
"..."
Total silence. No one answered.
Everyone knew the answer. Of course they couldn't.
To ensure their lineage continued, most nobles sired over a dozen children. Only the Campbell family was an anomaly, with only one heir per generation. Most of the people here were fifth or lower in the line of succession.
Represent their families? Impossible. If they died, their families probably wouldn't even feel the sting.
"Do you understand now?"
Muen stood up, his face grim. For the first time, he displayed the cold arrogance inherent to the son of a Duke.
"This is the difference between being a Duke's son and being the only Duke's son. Well, I might not be the only heir for much longer, but until then..."
Muen clenched his fist, as if seizing the power and authority that others could never reach.
"I, Muen Campbell, represent Duke Campbell. I represent the name Campbell itself. By insulting me, you have insulted the House of Campbell!"
Muen’s words struck like a sledgehammer to their hearts. The color drained from their faces, leaving them as white as parchment.
It was exactly as Muen said. He could represent the Campbells, but they could never represent their own houses. Their families would never dream of offending a future Duke for their sake.
"So now... do any of you have anything else to say?"
Muen scanned the room again. Seeing no one respond, he nodded in satisfaction.
"It seems you all agree with me. In that case..." Muen pointed casually at Teke, who was closest to him. "We'll start with you. Come here."
"..."
Under the pitying gazes of his peers, Teke dragged his feet toward Muen, his body shaking like a leaf. His expression was more miserable than if he were mourning his own parents.
Finally, as he reached Muen, the pressure became too much. He cried out with tears in his eyes, "Muen Campbell, what do you want from me? Money? Land?"
"Money? Land?" Muen looked confused. "What are you talking about?"
"It's not money or land?" Teke’s eyes widened in terror. "Don't tell me you want my sister? You beast, she's only eight!"
"I have no idea why you’d have such a bizarre thought, but didn't I just say it? I want an apology."
Muen placed a hand on Teke’s shoulder and pressed down firmly.
"You know how to apologize, right? Your attitude must be sincere, your tone must be humble, and... your back must be bent low enough."
"And remember: in the future, try not to lecture people from the moral high ground. Otherwise... you might slip and break your back, just like you did today."
*
"He really just wanted an apology?"
In a corner, Ariel watched the scene unfold and curled her lip in disdain. "How boring. I thought he was going to break their legs."
"Hmm?"
As she muttered to herself, Ariel’s gaze shifted to the side. A figure was slipping quickly out of the back door—she caught a glimpse of a thin, monkey-like face.
"Something else involving Muen Campbell?"
Ariel thought for a moment, then looked away. "Whatever. His business is none of mine."
A blissful smile spread across her face as she stroked the voice transmission stone in her hand. "I need to figure out what to say the next time I call the beauty."