Chapter 74
Chapter 74
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Coincidence for the Transfer Student (4)
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***
Lord Howe Academy's first conference room.
In front of a massive round table made of fine hardwood, people of all sorts had gathered and were flipping through documents.
Representatives from the major faculties, administration, admissions, public relations—the directors of all the key departments.
With all the real power players of the academy assembled, the only sound was the quiet rustle of turning pages.
Just as the silence began to stretch on, the conference room door opened, and a middle-aged woman with her hair tied up entered.
Himena Libero.
The woman who preferred the informal title of principal over her official position as academy president.
"You've arrived. Presi— No, Principal."
The staff rose in unison and bowed their heads to her.
The principal returned their greetings with a gentle smile, then took light steps to the head seat.
The staff sat down following her lead, then turned their attention to the head of the table.
"Everyone, I apologize for calling you here so late. Those of you who've seen the documents on the table already know, but this emergency meeting was convened at the request of Director Nikolai Cherni."
The principal spoke while looking at Director Nikolai Cherni, seated to the left of the round table.
"The agenda for the meeting... is a vote on the discipline of the transfer student and Admissions Director Medga."
The quick-on-the-gossip staff showed no reaction, as if they had expected it.
But people like Professor Gadan from the magic faculty stared at the admissions director with surprised expressions.
How did someone so strict end up like this?
As everyone mulled over their own thoughts, Nikolai raised his hand. The principal gave a light gesture, granting him the floor.
"Ahem, ahem. As those in the know are aware, just today, a tragic incident occurred at the academy."
Director Nikolai stood from his seat and swept his gaze over the staff at the round table before speaking.
"Due to the choice of a single individual and the deviation of another, the academy has suffered immense mental and material damage."
His voice boomed with confidence. His gaze turned toward Admissions Director Medga.
"First off, runway number two at the airport was destroyed. Facilities management says it will take three days to restore normal operations."
Runway destroyed? Some teachers glanced at the facilities management chief with expressions questioning if it was true.
He shrugged in response—a silent affirmation. Nikolai continued upon confirming it.
"And that's not the end of it. The transfer student openly threatened the staff. We have multiple testimonies that it wasn't just verbal threats—he used weapons and mana."
"...Good grief."
A sigh escaped from some unknown staff member, and Nikolai infused even more emotion into his words.
"Starting with Pedro, a board secretary, twenty-seven staff members are reporting mental distress. Some have requested leave due to post-traumatic stress disorder."
"...."
"Including a student on the runway, a total of nineteen people sustained injuries of varying degrees. Fortunately, no serious cases, but the medical team has officially requested restraint."
His expression and gestures grew impassioned. Confirming all eyes on him, Nikolai slammed the table.
"Among the injured is even the Saintess herself! She healed herself, thank goodness, but she suffered a broken arm—a serious injury! And not just anyone, the Saintess. On the very first day of enrollment!"
Medga clamped his mouth shut and glared at Nikolai. Nikolai concealed a sneer as he wrapped up.
"Everyone! Right here, I request the discipline of the transfer student and the removal of Admissions Director Medga from his position."
The teachers with even a minimal interest in campus politics saw through Nikolai's scheme and frowned, but that was it.
Assuming everything Nikolai said was true, disciplining the admissions director was justified.
After all, this transfer was the admissions director's unilateral decision.
"Any counterarguments, Admissions Director Medga?"
The principal, who had been resting her chin on her hand, asked. Medga sighed and replied.
"It's hard to see this as solely the transfer student's fault. There were people who deliberately criticized the transfer. And especially..."
Before he could continue, Director Nikolai interrupted.
"Criticism? Their actions were legitimate expressions of opinion! They protested because they couldn't stand the admissions director's overreach! Calling that 'criticism'—aren't you ashamed?"
"...Ha."
Faced with such a shallow ploy, Medga swallowed a sigh.
Parachuted in from outside or not, this level of scheming was pathetic.
Though he wanted to sigh, the other staff wore grim expressions.
The runway damage aside, a superhuman student threatening ordinary staff, and the Saintess's injury—these weren't light matters.
"If no one opposes, we'll proceed to the vote."
No sooner had Nikolai spoken than the back door of the conference room opened, and secretaries carrying ballot boxes and papers poured in.
It screamed premeditation. From emergency meeting to vote, just the right amount of brazenness.
Regardless of the staff's discomfort, Nikolai scanned the table and said,
"One last question. Any opposed to the vote?"
He knew no one would block the vote itself, even if they voted against.
"Then, we'll begin the vote—"
As Nikolai declared triumphantly, the principal raised her hand.
"...Madam President?"
"Principal."
"Yes, Principal. Why... did you raise your hand?"
"Anyone opposed to the vote?"
Nikolai's face stiffened under the principal's impassive gaze.
"Opposed? You heard my full explanation. This transfer was the admissions director's overreach..."
"Not the admissions director. I ordered it."
"...Pardon?"
Nikolai looked dumbfounded. The principal tapped the table as she continued.
"Cheon Yeomyeong. I authorized that mercenary's transfer."
"...."
Tap, tap, tap. The principal's fingers drumming on the table echoed coldly through the room.
"So if anyone must take responsibility, it should be me. Right? Director Nikolai."
The principal spoke slowly.
"Removal from position? Seems too heavy for cleaning up one student's mishap."
"Pri— Principal. I..."
"I know, I know. You put some effort into this."
"...."
"But there's a line to draw. The students gathered at the airport aren't idiots. What will they think if they see staff falling for such obvious tricks?"
The mood shifted strangely. Nikolai, sweat beading on his forehead without wiping it, stammered a reply.
"I believed this concerned the academy's reputation. And regarding the Saintess, if you take it lightly..."
"...Because of the Saintess."
The principal narrowed her eyes and turned her head.
But her gaze wasn't on Nikolai—it was toward the back of the round table.
"Would that woman think so too?"
Only then did the teachers' eyes turn to the rear.
At the far end of the conference room, where secretaries and clerks sat in a row.
There, a woman in a blue coat and a plain blue mask sat with her legs crossed, watching the table.
Few recognized her identity.
At best, the sharp-eyed few noticed her coat was the signature garb of the Blue Rats.
But Nikolai was different. He gulped at the sight of the blue mask.
No one born in Moscow could mistake that appearance.
"Wh— Why is that woman at the academy..."
Nikolai stammered and backed away.
As the staff who didn't recognize her hid their confusion, the principal tilted her head.
"Isn't it normal for a parent to come watch their daughter enroll?"
***
The first-year boys' dormitory at Lord Howe Academy was in chaos.
Not that it ever wasn't, but today was especially so.
It was the day the rumored transfer student was moving in.
Dorm supervisors checked their watches and gritted their teeth, but the students clustered by windows in groups of three or five, watching the approach to the dorm.
—He's moving in today, right?
—Heard he was released from disciplinary committee earlier.
—Which room do you think he'll get?
After a long wait, two figures appeared along the lamplit path.
Leading the way was the familiar dorm supervisor chief. Following behind was...
—They said he's a mercenary, but in uniform, he looks pretty normal.
Students seeing the transfer student for the first time didn't hide their disappointment. The neatly dressed transfer student showed nothing particularly special.
—That's 'cause you didn't see him fight.
Of course, the reactions differed from those who had watched him at the airport.
They had clearly seen him threaten to sever the agitators' limbs, the battle where he unleashed sword auras.
Jealousy, admiration, pure curiosity.
As countless boys' gazes poured down, the transfer student had already reached right in front of the dorm.
—Which room? Leftover one? Or by tradition?
—Tradition, obviously.
—He didn't take the entrance exam. They'll probably just give him a leftover.
The dorm's tradition.
An old custom assigning the best rooms by entrance ranking.
At most, differences like better sunlight or proximity to stairs...
But boys this age burned with rivalry over such trifles.
—Hey, if by tradition, does Jeon Yun-seong have to give up his room?
Amid boys thundering down the central stairs, someone posed the question.
A simple query, but enough to ignite the boys' hearts.
Who was stronger? Jeon Yun-seong, the top first-year and America's pride? Or the transfer student who felled a dragon?
—Nah, Yun-seong's still stronger, right? Even third-years don't mess with him.
—Dude! The transfer student took down a dragon in real combat. How's Yun-seong gonna compete?
—That was thanks to the Saintess's blessing. Bare-handed, who knows.
By the time the transfer student entered the first-floor lobby, everyone was talking about it.
Thud.
But the moment he stepped inside, the students fell silent as if on cue.
"Hmm...."
Cold golden eyes swept over the lobby and the students crowding the central stairs.
After eyeing them briefly, the transfer student turned to the supervisor chief and asked.
"...Supervisor. Is this some kind of welcome ceremony?"
"Uh... well..."
The supervisor trailed off awkwardly.
He had no idea why so many students were gathered in the lobby either.
Fortunately, his dilemma didn't last. Someone, unable to bear the brief silence, confessed the truth.
"Not a welcome. They're all here to gawk at you."
"...Gawk?"
Emerging from the crowd was a burly boy. He added in a gravelly voice, fresh from puberty.
"Cheon Yeomyeong, you're the hot news sensation right now. Like spotting a celebrity."
"...."
"And maybe... 'cause he might fight our dorm's number one."
Dorm's number one... fight? What nonsense is this? Yeomyeong raised one eyebrow.
"Oh, is that it. I don't know yet. First-year boys' dorm tradition."
Seeing Yeomyeong's lukewarm response, the boy hurriedly explained the tradition.
His words tumbled clumsily, but it was easy enough to grasp.
The tradition of giving the best rooms by entrance ranking.
No sooner had he finished than Yeomyeong commented.
"What a stupid tradition."
Reactions varied—snickers of agreement, frowns of annoyance...
Regardless of the students' responses, Yeomyeong ignored them and addressed the supervisor.
"Supervisor. Where's my room?"
"Uh... 314. I'll show you."
The supervisor, who had worried about a room dispute, sighed in relief and moved to guide him.
But the next moment, the burly boy who had explained the tradition leaped upward.
Boom!
Landing squarely in the lobby center, in front of the supervisor and Yeomyeong, he didn't hide his blazing eyes.
"Cheon Yeomyeong. I'm entrance rank four, Wesley. I have the second-best room in this dorm."
No need to spell out what came next.
Let's fight for my room.
He could refuse, but there was no reason not to fight.
If he hated attention, he wouldn't have made a scene at the airport.
'...Feels like I'm fighting more than back in my mercenary days.'
Yeomyeong opened his bag to draw his sword, then set the bag down and clenched his fist instead.
'Why use a blade on kids.'
Wesley, watching, raised his fists too. Far from annoyed, his face lit up with a grin.
"...Bare hands?"
"Bare hands. Any rules?"
"Until one surrenders."
The watching supervisors tried to intervene, but the chief waved them off.
A gesture to let it be.
The moment Yeomyeong and Wesley's fight became an official room dispute.
—Hey! Everyone upstairs, get down here! Wesley's fighting the transfer!
As supervisors sighed and boys cheered.
"Here I go."
Wesley kicked off the ground.
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