Chapter 83: The Young Girl and the Dawn
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 83: The Young Girl and the Dawn
"Forget it. I can probably guess who’s behind these rumors, pushing them along."
Ariel rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on.
In this academy, aside from the News Club—that bastard organization that makes up news for fun because they can't find any real scoops—no one else would be this bored.
"It looks like I’ll have to pay the News Club a visit when I get the chance. Either way, I can’t just let these rumors keep fermenting."
"Eh? But the president of the News Club is that famous sixth-year, Senior Mingotte. Do you really think he’ll listen to you?" Liya blinked, asking with a hint of worry.
Although Ariel had gained a bit of fame among some of the students, that fame likely meant nothing compared to a sixth-year senior. Not to mention, it was unlikely to make the News Club change their long-standing tradition of "finding fun" at others' expense.
"I still have to go, regardless."
Ariel gritted her teeth. "I don't want to become Muen Campbell’s 'ex-girlfriend' for no reason."
The mere thought of being pointed at and whispered about like that in the future was worse than death.
"Not just an ex-girlfriend, but an ex-girlfriend who had an abortion," Liya added with a perfectly straight face.
"...Alright, you little minx. We haven't seen each other for so long, and you show up just to roast me, is that it?"
Ariel shoved her ancient book under her pillow. Her phoenix-like eyes narrowed with a sharp glint before she lunged at Liya with a wicked cackle.
"Come here! Let me inspect your body and see if you’ve gotten fat again!"
"No, stop! It tickles... teehee..."
"Aha! You say you haven't, but after just one break, you’ve secretly gone up a bra size! Liya Angel, you’re so sneaky!" Realizing a certain unacceptable reality, Ariel was outraged. "I must deliver divine punishment upon you today!"
"Mmph... don't come over here, go away... it tickles so much, teehee..."
As Liya dodged Ariel’s "claws," she giggled and said, "I can't help it if they grow! Actually, I really envy you. At least your shoulders don't get sore when you walk, and you don't feel suffocated when you sleep..."
"Curse you! Curse you! You’re still talking? You’re still talking!"
Feeling her dignity as a "super-flat" girl being insulted, Ariel launched an even more ferocious assault.
The dormitory was soon filled with the vibrant, playful energy of young girls.
*
The moonlight was cool and clear.
After their play-fight ended, Ariel lost the desire to keep reading. She leaned against the window, admiring the bright moon while smoothing out her messy long hair.
Liya, her cheeks still slightly flushed, leaned in cautiously and asked, "So?"
"So what?"
"Muen Campbell’s apology."
Liya rested her chin on her hand, looking at Ariel. "What do you think? Are you going to forgive him?"
"Are you joking?" Ariel rolled her eyes. "He did such horrible things to me. Can a single apology just wipe the slate clean? I’m not that good-tempered."
"True. But..." Liya thought for a moment. "It is Muen Campbell, the son of a Duke. He used to be so arrogant and overbearing, yet he suddenly apologized to you—and in front of so many people, too. I think he must have been really determined to turn over a new leaf or something."
"Please. I think there’s a much higher probability that he’s plotting something."
Thinking back on Muen Campbell’s behavior today and comparing it to the Muen in her memories, Ariel still found it hard to believe that a single holiday break could change a person so much.
Was he really possessed by an Evil God?
Should I trick him into going to the Life Church for a purification ceremony one of these days?
"Besides, the sincerity of his apology is debatable," Ariel said with tragic indignation. "Do you know what his 'apology gift' was today? A kebab! And he’d already taken a few bites! You call that sincere?"
"Uh... maybe it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing?"
"Well, he did say he’d make it up to me with a proper gift later. But knowing how vulgar he usually is, it’ll probably just be some expensive jewelry or gemstones."
"True, jewelry is very vulgar. But don't you want it?" Liya stared at Ariel, a mischievous glint in her eyes that suggested she saw through everything. "Miss Ariel, who is technically the heir to an Earldom but is still dirt poor—don't you want it?"
"Aaaah, I want it! Why does the stuff I’m working on have to be so expensive?! Miss Liya, have mercy, lend me a bit more!" Ariel clung to Liya’s leg.
"I’ve already lent you all my money," Liya said, puffing out her cheeks. "I don't even know what you’re doing in secret, spending so much money without telling me what it’s for."
"Hehe, actually, I’m researching the world’s one-and-only secret recipe for Pachich Cake!" Ariel said with a serious face.
"Fine, fine. You go ahead and research that, then." Liya clearly didn't believe her, but she had no interest in prying into others' secrets. She waved her hand in farewell. "It’s getting late. I’m heading back to my dorm."
"Got it! Be careful on the way!"
"Oh, right." Liya turned back at the door, her expression serious. "Tomorrow is the opening ceremony. You can't be late."
"No way." Ariel thumped her chest. "Am I the kind of person who would be late for an important occasion?"
"You tell me," Liya said flatly. "Wasn't it a certain Student Ariel who lost the most credits last semester specifically for being late?"
"Hehe..."
"Forget it. I’ll come by to wake you up tomorrow. Goodnight..."
"Goodnight, Liya-chan."
*
After Liya left, Ariel slumped her head onto the desk and sighed. "Learning magic is so expensive."
Even though she had become the heir to a Count, she still couldn't touch the Bugard family’s actual finances. Her monthly allowance alone was nowhere near enough.
After all, she wasn't following a standard magical path. That unique path was far more powerful, but accordingly, it burned through money like wildfire. It was enough to make her want to cry.
"Why else do you think magic is called the 'toy of the nobility'? The fact that the lower classes are mostly brawlers isn't just a taunt; it’s a grim reflection of the cruel class divide in this world."
The candle flame flickered. From an ancient ring Ariel wore, a wisp of green smoke rose, gradually forming a graceful figure.
"Mentor, is there any way to make some quick cash?" Seeing the figure, Ariel began to wail even more piteously. "Your beloved disciple is about to starve to death."
"Of course there is," the hazy, elegant figure—Ariel’s mentor—replied. "You are already a Gold Tier mage. There are countless ways for you to make money."
After all, while mages spent money fast, they earned it fast too. Selling a few magic scrolls would bring in a tidy sum.
"But..."
Her mentor continued, "You know the situation. It’s not that we can't make money; it’s that we have nowhere to sell our wares. Because of the fallout from that incident, most of Belland’s underground black markets have temporarily shut down. There’s nothing I can do about that."
"Ugh... it’s all because the Ancient Magic you taught me is too likely to make people jealous. If I could sell the scrolls I make through normal channels, I wouldn't be this stressed."
"You could always learn ordinary magic. It’s not too late, you know," the hazy beauty said with a teasing smile.
"No way." Ancient Magic was so powerful; why would she settle for less?
"Speaking of which, I suppose I’m partly responsible for this situation," Ariel muttered, staring into the candle flame with a hint of regret in her eyes.
Back at the Duke’s estate, she had clearly sensed that something was wrong. However, out of trust for the Duke—and the allure of Pachich Cake—she hadn't chosen to investigate further.
Then, the incident happened.
The assassination attempt on Princess Celicia.
Muen Campbell was caught in the crossfire and severely injured.
Duke Campbell and His Majesty the Emperor were absolutely livid, launching a lightning strike against Belland’s underworld. Now, the entire dark side of Belland was like rats in a sewer, too afraid to show their faces.
Forget the black market; these days, if anyone so much as wore a hood on the street, a group of burly men would suddenly appear to "invite" them for tea. The entirety of Belland was so peaceful that there weren't even many pickpockets left.
"If only I had taken that extra step back then," Ariel sighed.
Saving Celicia in a moment of crisis would have been such a perfect opportunity to gain favor, but she’d let it slip through her fingers. What a waste!
However, there was one thing that made Ariel slightly happy.
Celicia was the one targeted, but Muen Campbell was the one who got seriously hurt. Celicia must be completely disappointed in that useless man by now!
(Note: The Duke’s estate suppressed news of the Princess’s assassination; Ariel’s information came from special channels and was incomplete.)
"Actually, I just thought of a great way to make money," the hazy beauty suddenly said. "It’s simple, fast, and extremely low-effort."
"Oh?" Ariel’s eyes lit up. "Please tell me, Mentor."
"Didn't that Muen Campbell say he’d make up for his apology with a gift later?" the hazy beauty said with a smile. "Tell him that as long as he gives you a million, you’ll forgive him. He might just be happy to hand over the million on the spot."
"Impossible!" Ariel slapped the table, refusing flatly. "Am I the kind of shallow woman who would abandon her principles for a mere million? If Muen Campbell wants my forgiveness, he has to truly change his ways and earn my respect. Otherwise, it’s absolutely impossible!"
"Really?"
"Absolutely! Truer than pearls!" Ariel said decisively.
"Is that so? What a pity." The hazy beauty sighed, touching her cheek. "I actually thought that Muen Campbell looked quite sincere today."
*
Early morning.
The mist was thin, and all was silent.
However, Professor Prang was already out of bed, beginning his customary daily walk. The walk wasn't for exercise, but to fulfill his duties as an excellent educator.
"The early bird gets the worm. This batch of students is no good; they don't even understand a simple truth like that!"
Standing on the broad avenue lined with plane trees, Professor Prang looked toward the quiet dormitory area and shook his head.
"Back when I was teaching the Golden Generation, those chosen ones were up before dawn to study and train. Unlike this batch—the opening ceremony is only two hours away, and not a single one is out of bed. Sigh, too poor. Too poor. They have no sense of what it means to be a student of St. Maria."
Professor Prang couldn't help but lament the decadence of this year's students. At the same time, he began to wonder if he should suggest to the Dean that these future pillars of the Empire be kept under tighter supervision, rather than letting them grow wild and free as they were now.
As he brooded, the disappointed Professor Prang prepared to head back. But just then, he heard rapid, rhythmic footsteps, exceptionally clear in the silent woods.
"This is..." Professor Prang’s eyes lit up.
Could it be that there was actually an outstanding student who hadn't wasted the most important morning hours of the day?
Professor Prang turned around, feeling gratified. He decided he would praise this student thoroughly and even use them as a model example during the ceremony to show those other lazy bastards.
Look! Look at what a model student looks like! You lazy bums should learn a thing or two.
"Good morning, Professor."
"Yes, good morning, Mu... Muen Camp—bell!"
"Eh?"
Muen was startled by the old man’s sudden roar. His PTSD flared up instinctively, and he nearly threw a kick. He only held back when he realized he was at the Academy, where no Evil God was likely to pop out of nowhere.
"Is... is something wrong?" Muen asked cautiously.
He had to be careful; he recognized this old man with eyes as wide as copper bells.
Prang Ronir, the Head of the Magic Department. The oldest magic professor in the Academy. He was also the professor the original host feared most.
The reason for that fear... was likely because the original host had spent a whole year under him just to learn a single Illumination Spell. He’d lived in constant fear that Professor Prang would one day lose his temper and skin him alive.
"Muen Campbell, what are you doing?" Realizing he’d lost his composure, Professor Prang cleared his throat and asked.
"Me? I’m morning jogging." Muen was dressed in practical short sleeves and shorts. Even while talking to the professor, he didn't stop moving, jogging in place.
"Morning jogging!" Professor Prang’s eyes widened.
Shock, disbelief, and confusion flashed through his gaze. It was as if he’d suddenly seen a terminally ill patient leap out of bed and run a full marathon while slapping their own ass at the people behind them.
Professor Prang stared into Muen’s eyes and asked seriously, "Are you sure you didn't just escape from the girls' dormitory after peeping?"
"Why would you even think that, Professor?!" Muen was shocked. "The girls' dorm isn't even in this direction."
"Or perhaps you’re on your way to the girls' dorm?" Professor Prang hypothesized with a straight face.
"I’m not going there either!"
"Then that’s strange." Professor Prang stroked his beard, his gaze heavy as if he’d encountered a century-old magical puzzle. "You, Muen Campbell, up this early and dressed so... revealingly. If it’s not to do something wicked, it just doesn't make sense."
"I’m not doing anything wicked! Am I really that kind of person in your eyes, Professor?" Muen continued to be shocked. "And this is just an athletic shirt. How is it 'revealing'?"
"What else would you be?" Professor Prang was also shocked. "Did you do any less wicked things last semester?"
"..."
You’re bringing up last semester? You’re actually talking to me about last semester? If you’re going to talk about last semester... then I’ve got nothing.
After all, it was all true. Muen Campbell really had been a complete piece of work last semester!
"Any... anyway, I really am just jogging," Muen said helplessly. "Don't overthink it, Professor."
"But a jog of this intensity shouldn't provide any real training benefit, should it?" Professor Prang had a decent foundation as a martial artist himself, so he knew that for a Second-Tier Martial Artist—or even a Late First-Tier—simple physical exercise no longer did much for cultivation.
"I know," Muen said. "I’m just doing it to wake myself up."
"To wake yourself up?"
"That’s right. Exercise a bit in the morning, go back for a cold shower, and I’ll be energized for the whole day." Muen smiled. "That way, I won't fall asleep in class, right?"
"Won't fall asleep in class..."
Professor Prang’s eyes bulged, as if he’d just seen a giant shrimp straddling its own balls as it waddled past him.
You bastard. How do you have the nerve to say that? You fell asleep in every single one of my classes last semester!
"Alright, Professor, I’ll be going now. Goodbye."
Sensing that staying would only lead to trouble, Muen seized the chance to bolt. Before Professor Prang could react, he trotted off over the fallen leaves, quickly disappearing into the dawn.
"Can a person really undergo such a massive change in such a short time?"
Watching Muen’s retreating back, even Professor Prang, who had educated countless students, couldn't suppress his internal shock. Watching from a distance yesterday hadn't felt that intense, but after this close encounter... Muen’s behavior... actually seemed somewhat genuine.
As he thought, Professor Prang unconsciously peeled a piece of bark off a nearby plane tree and stuffed it into his mouth.
Ugh, so bitter! If only it were my desk...
Ah, no, no, no.
How could I be swayed so easily? Don't be fooled, Prang Ronir! Go and unmask Muen Campbell’s facade! For the sake of my desk... for the sake of my decades of dignity as an educator!
"Hmph." Professor Prang bit down hard on a piece of bark and sneered. "Muen Campbell, just you wait. From now on, I’ll be watching you constantly!"
*
"Eek—"
Muen, who was still jogging, suddenly felt a chill down his spine. He shivered and looked around warily.
"Why do I suddenly have the illusion that a yandere is watching me again?"
"Strange. This is St. Maria Academy; An shouldn't be able to get in."
*
The morning light was faint.
The rare silence in front of the main building was broken by the crisp clicking of heels. A girl with her hair in buns, who had been dozing while waiting by the door, was suddenly startled awake. She hurriedly looked at the silver-haired, stunningly beautiful girl before her, stood up straight, and shouted, "Your Highness!"
"I told you, don't call me 'Your Highness' at the Academy."
Celicia glanced at the corner of Wei'er’s mouth, which she had hurriedly wiped but was still slightly damp. "Also, don't stay up late reading novels like The Overbearing Evil God Fell in Love with Me. It affects your work."
"Yes, President," Wei'er said, her cheeks flushing.
"Let’s go."
Seeing Wei'er comply, Celicia didn't waste words and walked into the empty building. She followed the familiar corridors and stairs upward, finally stopping before a door labeled [Student Council Room].
"I’m back," Celicia whispered to herself, then pushed the door open.
Opposite the door was a simple desk and a plain-looking chair. To the side were bookshelves packed with books and a sofa for guests. There was nothing else. It was simple, unadorned, and exactly as it always was.
However, two months of neglect had left the room covered in a thin layer of dust. A cold wind blew through, and soon the entire room was swept clean.
"Wow, no matter how many times I see it, the President’s ability is so convenient," Wei'er remarked quietly from behind.
"If you’d had the heart to come and clean during the break, it would have been more convenient than any ability." Celicia glanced at her secretary, who had spent the entire break playing who-knows-where, and walked into the room, brushing a thin layer of frost from the desk.
"Ehehe." Wei'er stuck out her tongue, playing dumb, but was immediately nearly frozen solid by the chill in the room. "S-so cold, President."
"..." Celicia sighed softly.
She walked to the window and pushed it open. She let the outdoor air flow in—though it carried the chill of early autumn, it was much warmer than the room that had just been blasted by a freezing wind.
A breeze blew, and the shadows of the plane trees swayed gently. Amidst the rustling of the wind, Celicia heard the faint but easily distinguishable sound of leaves being crushed.
It was a minor detail not worth noting, but for some reason, Celicia looked toward the source of the sound.
And there she saw him.
A blond youth, bathed in the fragmented light of the morning sun, wearing a sharp athletic outfit, running along the quiet path through the plane trees.
It’s him?
Celicia’s eyes flickered. She suddenly asked Wei'er behind her, "What time is it?"
"Eh? Right now? It’s... let me see, 6:06 AM."
"When does the opening ceremony start?"
"8:00 AM sharp."
"So he’s at least two hours early?" Celicia’s long, silver eyelashes fluttered as she pondered something.
"President, what are you looking at?" Wei'er leaned over curiously. Then she, too, saw the blond youth running below. "Ah, Muen Campbell."
Wei'er let out a small cry, then suddenly tilted her head and spat. "Tui! Scumbag!"
"...Did he do something else?" Celicia turned back and asked.
"President, you don't know?" Wei'er looked shocked, as if Celicia were an alien for not knowing such a huge piece of news. She suddenly pulled several crumpled newspapers from behind her.
"Hmm?" Celicia took the papers and looked at them.
"SHOCKING! The Arrogant Noble Muen Campbell Bows and Apologizes to Ariel! The Hidden Truth Revealed!"
The headline was printed in massive red letters.
"Bows and apologizes?" Celicia’s brow arched slightly.
Below the red text was a magic portrait—a photo of Muen bowing to Ariel. Celicia was feeling a bit surprised, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the text below.
"Ex-Girlfriend? The Untold Story of Muen Campbell and Ariel Bugard Before Entering the Academy!"
"Worse Than a Beast! They Actually Have a Child Together!"
"Two-Timing Thirteen People! Is She Actually a Dreadnought-class Battleship?"
"..."
Exaggerated rhetoric. Sensationalist language. Not a shred of credibility.
If it were the old Celicia, she would have glanced at it and looked away, refusing to waste her precious time. But for some reason, this time, she patiently read through the newspaper word by word.
After reading about how the hateful scumbag Muen Campbell had toyed with poor Ariel Bugard’s feelings three times, made her have five abortions, caused her to attempt suicide seven times, and how she nearly died nine times after being hit by a passing carriage while suffering from an incurable disease...
Celicia finally found a line of tiny, tiny text at the very bottom of the page that was almost impossible to see if one wasn't looking closely.
—"The above is merely the subjective speculation of the News Club for your entertainment and does not represent the actual situation."
As the first ray of morning sun cleared the treetops, it fell upon Celicia’s cool face, causing her features to soften slightly. But immediately, her gaze turned cold again.
"See? That Muen Campbell is a total scumbag, right?" Wei'er leaned in, looking indignant.
"Honestly, you..." Celicia retracted her gaze and sighed. She rolled up the newspaper and tapped Wei'er lightly on the head. "Read less of this stuff in the future. It’ll make you stupid."