Chapter 114
Chapter 114
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 114
Chapter Title: Teachings for the Disciple (5)
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***
Lord Howe Academy's staff room was spacious.
Unlike the students, who had separate main buildings for each grade, there was only one staff room for all the teachers.
Of course, that didn't mean it was a bustling marketplace crammed with dozens or hundreds of teachers.
The academy had the capability and wealth to provide nearly every teacher with a private office, and most teachers preferred that arrangement anyway.
Thanks to that, Lord Howe Academy's staff room was more like a quiet office where teachers handled their work—far from the fantasies outsiders might imagine.
At least, until yesterday.
Today, the day special class applications began, the atmosphere in the staff room was nothing short of a marketplace.
"Applications with Michele as first choice—gather them all regardless of grade and deliver to Dean Gadan of the Magic Faculty!"
Third-year math teacher Marcus shouted.
"Anyone handling materials for the special instructors? Take the second-year documents!"
Second-year international law teacher Kim Sujin clutched a stack of papers, frantically scanning the surroundings.
And beyond them, countless other teachers were rushing around the staff room, chased by their workloads.
"Teachers! Separate the special instructors by whether they were recommended by the principal or came via external recommendations!"
"Pull out the lists of key students separately!"
"Has anyone checked for missing names? Anyone going to confirm the students who haven't submitted yet?"
In the chaotic scene more akin to a disaster zone than a staff room, a dwarf teacher let out a sigh.
"Why couldn't we just do this electronically..."
He hadn't asked expecting a reply, but one came from the seat next to him anyway.
"What can we do? It's not like only one or two students don't know how to use electronics."
Margan turned to look. Gemini Teacher was sighing heavily as she wrestled with her paperwork.
Without even glancing at Margan, she continued her explanation.
"There are probably students here at the academy who've never seen a real cellphone before. Especially those from beyond the dimensional gates."
"..."
"The special instructors are the same. You know that, right? There are still mages who think using electronics steals their mana. Earth's conspiracy or whatever."
Her voice carried a lively anger. Margan gave a wry smile.
"Thanks to that, overtime tonight is guaranteed."
"I'd be happy if it ended with overtime. At this rate, it feels like we'll be pulling an all-nighter..."
As she spoke, Gemini pulled out a thick stack of documents.
Student information to send to special instructors, and paperwork related to classes from the special instructors themselves.
"As long as nothing goes wrong, we can wrap it up by today."
"...Saying that is just tempting fate."
Gemini said seriously. Margan took some of her papers and placed them on his own desk as he replied.
"This whole special class thing is already an accident. What bigger disaster could there be?"
Other teachers' gazes turned toward his voice, but no one contradicted him.
It was only natural. Most of the teachers in the staff room shared his sentiments.
With the academy's faculty intact, what was all this about special classes? What did that make the regular teachers?
Of course, there hadn't been any foolish teachers acting on those complaints—yet.
Most teachers understood why Principal Himena had made this choice.
Considering the external forces pressuring the academy and internal enemies like Director Nikolai, special guest instructors were Himena's best option.
But that was that, and work was work.
'At this rate, I'll really end up sleeping in the staff room.'
Margan sighed and returned to his tasks. Or tried to.
Just as he was about to start on the paperwork, a message from the facilities management department popped up on his computer monitor.
[To the 1st-year dispute resolution officer, Instructor Uragan]
[Road in front of 1st-year boys' dormitory half-destroyed.]
[Blood splatter at the scene suggests combat occurred, but no fatalities.]
[Site photos attached. pdf]
After reading the message, Margan scowled deeply.
"...Damn it."
Facilities management must have assumed it was a student fight and sent it to him...
What student could possibly wreck a road like that?
The fight that trashed the southern staff lounge area last time, and now this... It had to be the special instructors' doing.
Whichever one it was, if he caught them, he'd make them pay repair costs out the wazoo.
With those thoughts, Margan checked the message, wrote up a response, and sent it back to facilities management.
"...You're really going through it today."
Gemini Teacher chimed in from beside him, but it didn't comfort him.
His real assigned work was only just beginning.
Margan shook his head and pulled a bundle of documents from the towering stacks.
Personal info on a special instructor and the list of students who had put them as first choice.
The first bundle's subject was a person—no, beastman—named [Corbus Darkwing].
'...A beastman. Not many students would pick him first choice.'
Thinking that, Margan flipped through to check the students who had selected Corbus first.
The next moment, he doubted his own eyes.
"What... the hell..."
He rubbed his eyes and checked again, but the list of students who chose Corbus first remained unchanged.
"An error...?"
Knowing it couldn't be, Margan still tilted his head.
It was a natural reaction. Everyone who had put Corbus first were the most famous students in the first year.
[Male: Cheon Yeomyeong]
[Female: Hong Seti, Soe Miri, Saintess]
***
In the southern lounge, far from the first-year main building.
The Saintess cautiously spoke up in the lounge nestled in woods wrecked like it had taken artillery fire.
"Yeomyeong, why do you trust me?"
It was an out-of-the-blue question.
Out-of-the-blue enough to make Yeomyeong, who was wiping blood from his face, furrow his brow.
"What're you talking about all of a sudden?"
"...You fought Hoana just trusting my hand signals."
Instead of answering, Yeomyeong snorted and blew his nose. A clot blocking it splattered onto the tissue.
"Fight? I was the one being tested."
"...And you didn't hold back at all?"
"She wasn't someone I could go easy on."
Hoana Tulle was tougher than any old man his age had a right to be.
Her punches were so vicious that each hit cracked bones and burst blood vessels.
During the fight, five ribs had broken, and his nasal and cheekbones shattered more than twice.
Without his abnormal regeneration, he'd probably still be unconscious in a hospital bed.
"...Well, Hoana ended up convinced anyway, so no need to dwell on that."
Yeomyeong slicked back his wet hair and continued.
"The prophecy about Seti. Tell me that. That's why you came, right?"
At the straight pitch, the Saintess bowed her head slightly.
Yeomyeong looked at her face, wondering if...?
"It was a lie?"
"...No, not a lie."
The Saintess fiddled with her eyepatch, paused, then asked in a subdued voice.
"Yeomyeong... why do you really trust me?"
"...Is this that important right now?"
"Yeah, it's important."
She clenched her fists as if steeling herself. Yeomyeong sat in the chair opposite her and answered.
"Religious faith that the Saintess wouldn't lie, or empirical trust from you never lying to me so far. Which do you prefer?"
"...Neither. Skip the fake stuff—tell me the truth."
Truth. The Saintess emphasized the word, as if saying it would make him reveal it.
Fine, if that's what she wants. Yeomyeong slowly opened his mouth.
"Saintess. The reason I trust you is..."
Gulp. The moment her throat bobbed.
Yeomyeong told the truth.
"Just because."
"What...?"
"I just do."
Though hidden by the eyepatch, he could feel her eyes widening.
"From back in Manchuria, I've never trusted you for some grand reason. I just did."
Her shock must have been immense, as the Saintess unwittingly raised her voice.
"Th-that's kinda weird, isn't it? You just fought Hoana earlier too."
Her lips drooping powerlessly, fingers twisting every which way.
"You just... trusted me, so? That's... no, it doesn't feel bad, but in Manchuria too? Ha, totally... insane..."
As the Saintess started rambling, Yeomyeong cut her off.
"So why ask something like this? Have you ever lied to me?"
"Uh... once or twice?"
Embarrassed even by her own answer, she fidgeted with her fingers.
"Th-that was... back in Manchuria..."
"...No need to tell me what the lie was."
"..."
I've lied to you plenty too. Yeomyeong swallowed those words inwardly and leaned toward her.
"Let's drop this and talk about Seti now."
Only then did the Saintess wipe away her dopey smile and turn serious.
"...Yeomyeong, one last time. Do you really trust me?"
What did she see in the prophecy to act like this? Swallowing his worry, Yeomyeong nodded.
"Yeah, with all my heart."
A small smile. The Saintess reached out and grasped his hand. It was soft like marshmallow.
"Yeomyeong, from now on, you absolutely cannot repeat what I'm about to say anywhere else. Swear it."
"...I swear."
As Yeomyeong nodded, the Saintess continued.
"Truth is... there are people my prophecies can't see."
People invisible even under the Five Gods' blessing.
It was borderline blasphemy, denying divine power, yet she explained matter-of-factly.
"That Pasun guy we met in Manchuria, Jeon Yunseong, Georyeong... and you and Seti."
"...Me and Seti?"
"Yeah, you two included."
"But you saw it in the shelter, right? Seti's death."
Before Yeomyeong could object further, the Saintess shook her head.
"That was the shelter's future as a whole, not just Seti. Even there, she was blurry. Like... censored."
"...Censored."
It gave him a strange sense of déjà vu. Pasun, Seti, and fate.
While Yeomyeong pondered briefly, the Saintess added.
"But... just recently, Seti's future started becoming visible."
"..."
"I don't know why. I did my usual morning prophecy on Seti, and suddenly it appeared."
"Every morning... what?"
As Yeomyeong frowned, the Saintess gripped his hand tightly.
She raised her other hand and hooked it under her eyepatch.
"...The future I saw. Want to see it together?"
The Saintess whispered. Yeomyeong didn't refuse.
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