Chapter 64
Chapter 64
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: An Unscheduled Transfer Exam (2)
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The morning routine of Margan, the only dwarf teacher at Lord Howe Academy, was the same as always.
He woke up at 6 a.m. as usual. After lightly tidying his bedding, he started his day with a strong cup of barley tea and the online news.
He didn't have a fixed newspaper he read.
Some days it was the Wall Street Journal, others News Corp Oceania.
Depending on his mood that day, he just browsed whatever paper to kill time.
But reading the Goryeosi News today was almost inevitable.
A superhuman-related story from Goryeosi News was topping the main feed, and the provocative headline caught his eye.
『Proud Korea... Slays the Dragon of Manchuria.』
An article with a title so grandiose it was almost majestic.
Margan clicked on it with a faint hope.
He sipped his barley tea leisurely as he read the news... but the result was as expected.
A typical nationalist puff piece filled with exaggeration and self-praise.
After finishing the article, Margan laughed in disbelief.
'The mid-tier Seonjuk Mercenary Corps or whatever and the Korean military slayed a dragon hiding in Manchuria?'
Even a passing dog would laugh at that.
It was absurd enough that a dragon had been hiding in Manchuria of all places for decades, but to claim they took it down without a single casualty?
'Damn it.'
No matter how embarrassing the recent terrorist raid on their North Manchurian base was.
Was it worth putting out this kind of fake news just to save face?
Tsk tsk. Margan clicked his tongue and skimmed the related articles.
But the others were no different. If anything, they were even worse.
From absurd claims that the Saintess had joined the subjugation to nonsense about a rookie mercenary taking down the dragon himself.
The Korean government's self-congratulation wasn't new, but this... wasn't it going too far?
'There's a limit to jokes.'
As Margan let out a hollow chuckle for a while, a useful idea popped into his head.
'...Joke.'
It was hilarious even to him, a dwarf—what would the human teachers think?
Margan's deliberation didn't last long.
With dwarven decisiveness, he printed the article and headed to the staff room, spreading it among the other teachers.
His prediction was spot on. The moment they saw it, light laughter bloomed across the staff room.
—Ha, they can't even clean up North Manchuria properly, and what's this...
—Is Korea going through a rough patch these days??
—If that rookie mercenary story is true, why isn't he coming to our academy instead of staying in Manchuria?
—Shouldn't the admissions director go fetch him personally?
Half mockery, half disbelief. Seeing his colleagues' smiles, Margan felt satisfied.
Easing the stuffy staff room atmosphere with a few ridiculous articles like this—today was off to a good start.
But...
Unfortunately, that mood didn't last. Soon, an unwelcome guest visited the staff room.
The Holy Sword, Freya Khan.
With her thick hair messily tied up and no sign of having washed her face, she barged in and promptly occupied the staff room sofa, declaring she'd wait for the principal.
Most teachers, used to the Holy Sword's casual demeanor, ignored her.
But not all.
'Oh, Lord Mordak... Is that really the Holy Sword before my eyes?'
Margan was one such teacher. He fidgeted restlessly, staring at Freya Khan.
The Holy Sword. The superhuman he respected most, who had raised her voice for Australia's dwarves.
'S-Sh-Should I ask for an autograph? Or maybe a photo together?'
Forgetting his lesson prep, Margan agonized for a while before standing up with a resolved expression.
'...F-First, let's talk. Best to start with humor, right?'
He approached Freya Khan with the printed article in hand.
"Um, Lady Freya Khan?
"...Yeah? What?"
"You, you looked bored. I have a funny article here. Would you like to read it?"
Would you like to read it? Who did he think he was, a newspaper hawker? Margan sighed inwardly.
He wasn't some middle schooler passing a love letter—what a spectacle.
But contrary to his worries, Freya Khan's reaction wasn't bad.
"A funny article? What kind?"
"Uh, the one about a dragon being slain in Manchuria..."
The word "Manchuria" hit, and she snatched the article lightning-fast. The eye not covered by her eyepatch sparkled.
Good, she's interested. Margan took a deep breath, preparing his follow-up.
'If the Holy Sword bursts out laughing, I'll join in. If she just smirks, pivot to another joke.'
But regrettably, her reaction defied his expectations.
Her lips curved up... but it wasn't a sneer.
Pure joy, and surprise.
"Wow, this guy's gone and caught a dragon?"
"...Pardon?"
No way—she couldn't believe this blatant nonsense, could she?
While Margan panicked, the Holy Sword narrowed her remaining eye and stared piercingly at the photo atop the article.
"Ah, I should've just kidnapped him back then and made him my disciple."
...What? Disciple?
Margan wondered if he'd misheard and dug at his ear, glancing around. But the other teachers' reactions were much the same.
Especially the admissions director—his expression was like Caesar betrayed by Brutus as he gazed at Freya Khan.
'If this goes south, I'll take all the heat.'
Alternating glances between the Holy Sword and the admissions director, Margan cautiously spoke up.
"Um... Lady Holy Sword? What do you mean by disciple...?"
"Huh? No big deal. See this guy in the photo?"
She pointed to a photo of the Seonjuk Mercenary Corps. Specifically, the mercenary with golden eyes standing among them.
Margan remembered the face too. The rookie said to have played the decisive role in slaying the dragon.
"A while back, I tried to take this guy as my disciple, but he turned me down flat."
"...."
"That little punk. So that's what he's been up to—playing mercenary?"
For whatever reason, it amused her greatly. Freya Khan smirked oddly and turned to other articles.
Regardless of her reaction, the staff room atmosphere grew heavy.
The shock from the word "disciple" was too much.
Freya Khan's disciple. Anyone not an idiot could grasp what that implied.
No one in this staff room was an idiot, so they all thought of the same phrase at once.
The next Holy Sword's master.
Words Australia—no, the academy itself—could never ignore.
'...My god.'
Feeling the stares upon him, Margan broke into a cold sweat.
A quick glance around: every professor in the room wore the same "ask her quick" expression, fixed on him.
'Damn it, now I can't even run.'
He swallowed hard and asked Freya Khan.
"Um, Lady Holy Sword. Where... where did you meet that mercenary you wanted as a disciple?"
"...Huh? Classified."
Classified. Meaning it tied to a government operation. A dead end.
The Holy Sword seemed done talking, but ending the questions there was impossible with the admissions director's terrifying glare.
Margan desperately thought of another question.
"Th-Then, if you could at least tell us his name... we could arrange a spot for him here. What do you think?"
"Name? Don't know it."
"...Y-You don't know?"
"Didn't ask. He knows my name, so that should be enough, right?"
What kind of logic was that? Margan nearly blurted it out but recalled her earlier "classified."
'No way—his identity's so sensitive even his name can't be spoken lightly?'
It made sense. Better than the great Holy Sword not even knowing the name of the guy she wanted as disciple.
Just as Margan rationalized it, the admissions director jumped in.
"...Cheon Yeomyeong. That's the mercenary's name."
All eyes in the staff room turned to him. Even Freya Khan, skimming articles idly.
"Medga, how do you know that?"
Medga, the man who'd held Lord Howe Academy's admissions director post for 12 years, turned his monitor toward Freya Khan.
On it was someone's application form.
"That mercenary. He's an academy applicant. Submitted recently. Identity verification means earliest enrollment is next semester."
"Really?"
"...Would I lie about something this stupid?"
"No, it's just... weird."
"Weird? How so?"
"I offered to write him a recommendation letter for the academy, and he turned that down too."
You even offered a recommendation? Face twisting or not, Freya Khan fiddled with her eyepatch, lost in thought.
Moments later, she smacked her forehead as if realizing something.
"He didn't need any help—just wanted to grow on his own."
"...."
"You said fastest is next semester enrollment? So he went to Manchuria to stack real combat experience for half a year? No, he even took down a dragon, so it must be."
"...."
"Man, these kids today are something else. Back in my day, all superhumans grew like this. Nowadays it's all academy this, that..."
Margan couldn't bring himself to say it was speculation. This time, it rang true.
Truthfully, even if it was speculation, it didn't matter. The fact that the Holy Sword thought so highly of the guy was what counted.
As everyone's thoughts deepened, a saving sound echoed through the school.
—Students and staff of Lord Howe Academy, good morning.
The blaring broadcast announcing the principal's arrival. Only then did the Holy Sword rise from the sofa and slip out of the staff room.
"See ya."
As abrupt as her entrance, but no one could speak.
Wrapped in stunned silence, the first to recover was the admissions director.
"That crazy bitch."
Spitting sincere venom, he scribbled something on a paper, stood, and approached Margan.
"Margan."
"Y-Yes?"
"You're a transfer exam proctor from now on. Cancel all your classes today."
Margan blinked, wondering if he'd heard right.
"Transfer exam proctor? Our academy doesn't have a position like..."
"I just made it. Any complaints?"
"Th-Then my classes..."
"Gemini will cover them temporarily."
The admissions director shoved a paper labeled "Transfer Exam Proctor Certificate" into his hand.
"Go to Manchuria right now. Bring back that Cheon Yeomyeong or whatever before rumors spread about that lunatic and Freya Khan. Got it?"
His expression brooked no argument—fierce and unyielding.
Why me? The words rose to his lips, but Margan dared not voice them.
And two hours later, he boarded a flight to Kaesong.
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