Chapter 137
Chapter 137
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 137
Chapter Title: Sword Theory Debacle
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All the students were buzzing with excitement.
"Why are the exchange students talking to Warden Derek...?"
The students were utterly baffled by the incomprehensible scene unfolding before them.
And who could blame them?
The whole spectacle was downright bizarre.
Women whose mere presence could brighten anyone's mood...
approached a mafia boss who sent chills down spines just by looking at him—and greeted him first, no less.
It was like they were cute little sisters visiting their rough-around-the-edges big brother from the streets.
"What the hell is going on here?"
"No way they're actually acquainted, right?"
"How would kids from the West and East know the warden of a Northern prison?"
"Beats me."
The boys' reactions were especially noteworthy.
These newcomers were stunners even by the standards of the Imperial Academy, famed for its beautiful students.
"Warden—no, Professor. We came to check on you because we were worried."
Blue hair that could enchant even royalty.
Icy eyes sparkling like cold crystals within those locks.
And the tight-fitting borrowed uniform accentuating her sensual, mature figure.
In this world's lore, Clea Rockhart's allure stat was top-tier—and her school uniform look embodied it perfectly.
To the girls, it felt like a direct nuclear strike.
"I figured you'd be getting this kind of treatment."
Clea glanced back at the students staring blankly from behind us.
They were pierced by the sharp gaze of a former imperial secretary.
The boys felt a strange surge of emotion toward her mature allure, leagues beyond ordinary girls.
Like they yearned to be doted on by an older sister type.
"Now that I'm here, you can relax."
Her charm spread even to the other women.
After all, they naturally gravitated toward reliable big-sister figures.
In the end, Clea was fated to captivate everyone.
It wasn't for nothing that even as a studious bookworm in school, she'd been wildly popular.
"Yes, yes. Now that this body has graced you with its presence, rest easy."
The pure-blood with green hair cascading down to her thighs declared confidently.
She placed a hand on her flat chest and held her head high.
"Students are inherently immature souls. In the end, they can't help but follow a mature one like me."
Pranka, who had come with her, exuded a completely different charm from Clea.
Petite stature, delicate build, doll-like beauty.
Her lively, mischievous eyes melted hearts every time she smiled.
Cute types had always been popular across all ages and genders.
And on top of that, elegant movements and refined speech that contrasted her appearance.
"I'll whip these kids into shape so they focus on your lecture."
She declared boldly, hands on her hips.
Even small dogs like Chihuahuas brimmed with the most confidence.
"Sigh... You three aren't even students to begin with. At least Myoran's only nineteen."
"........."
Hold on a second.
Nineteen? Really?
I glanced at Myoran.
Her blouse strained against bursting curves, and her plain skirt turned into a miniskirt by her healthy thighs.
'The succubus from my dream...?'
No, not the twin tails like before.
But after absorbing the Heavenly Jade's power, she radiated an even stronger yin energy.
"Guess I'm the only one here who actually looks like a student."
"Y-yeah, sure... uh-huh..."
I nodded blankly.
However, all 120 people in this classroom knew the truth.
Who looked the least like a student...
Unlike the two from the West, Myoran had a completely different vibe.
Clea screamed prestigious nobility, Pranka was adorably compact—but Myoran oozed 'lethal' danger.
The delinquent style rare in polite society.
Completed by an ecstatic figure and her signature eerie aura.
That perfect blend stimulated immature boys' risky romantic urges.
To the point they'd gladly let her drain every drop of their essence.
Meanwhile, the girls eyed her warily.
If Clea was the princely type you wanted to rely on, and Pranka a mascot to keep close...
Myoran triggered primal alarm bells, the kind who'd steal all the guys.
"What? Why are you staring like that? Does the uniform suit me that well?"
"Uh... yeah."
I let out a deep sigh.
Truth be told, I didn't care how they won over the students.
The real problem was that these attention magnets were gazing at me with affectionate eyes.
'This just makes me look even more suspicious!!'
I kept a stern poker face, but my mind raced frantically.
How to shake off these dangerously attractive women and focus solely on the academy?
The conclusion I reached was this.
"You lot."
I lightly bonked each of their heads.
With an awkwardly paternal smile that twisted their sultry faces.
"Even if I'm your sponsor, I told you not to act like you know me here at the academy."
My final act of desperation.
Scolding them in my one redeeming feature: a strict, authoritative voice.
"Go take your seats. Private meetings between students and sponsors are strictly forbidden."
The women stifled giggles at the sight.
As if my improvised panic was adorable.
"We're here to cheer you on, so give a great lecture."
Myoran turned with a cynical smile.
She headed to the very back row, crossed her legs, and sat.
"Heh heh... Don't forget dinner after class, just you and me."
Dinner alone with the petite girl?!
All the students shot me looks of utter contempt.
A sponsor secretly dining alone with a minor??
The girls whispered among themselves, debating whether to report it.
'Kids, it's just dinner. You never heard of blood sausage soup?'
I closed my eyes in the world's most wronged expression.
Then Clea whispered comfortingly.
"Don't worry. We came to sway student opinion in your favor."
"I think it's backfiring because of you three."
I gazed at Clea with utter resignation.
"What about the prison?"
"Grand Elder Dark said he'd cover for you. No plans to go out himself."
"Grand Elder Dark is reliable, but... he's still technically a prisoner?!"
"A disguised one, essentially."
Clea wouldn't yield an inch.
Arguing in uniform made her feel like a prickly high school girl.
"And Anje?"
"Went to the capital library for new novels. Said to meet her there if needed."
'Argh, you believe that?!'
"Sigh... What am I supposed to do if even you act up? I only trusted the vice warden."
Clea looked unusually haughty today, thanks to the uniform.
Hands behind her back, she glanced at me and murmured softly.
"...So you don't want me here?"
"What?"
"A vice warden's duty is to support her superior. Knowing the significance of this lecture, I have an obligation to protect you by your side."
"I appreciate the sentiment... but the students' stares are getting even creepier because of you."
Clea seemed unfazed.
She replied firmly, like a high schooler with unshakeable convictions.
"Once they hear your brilliant lecture, their minds will change. We'll manipulate the press accordingly."
Too late to chew them out now.
Best to let her audit the class.
"Go sit down. Class is starting soon."
"Understood."
Clea brushed past me expressionlessly.
She sat beside Myoran and Pranka, waiting for class.
Their piercing gazes poked at the back of my head.
'This is going to be one obstacle after another...'
Meanwhile, in the faculty office.
Ten minutes before class.
Kyle Lockheed, professor for the long-awaited first subject 'Swordsmanship Theory,' was meeting with the dean.
"Lecture prep going well?"
The white-haired elder asked with a grave look.
The tall, handsome blond man replied confidently.
"Of course. You know my skills."
Top of popularity polls for five straight months among Imperial Academy professors.
Kyle Lockheed's swordsmanship lectures had long been legendary.
His flashy career as a former imperial knight.
Plus, his tall, dashing looks adored by female students.
A big reason for his top spot was their unanimous votes.
Of course, the sword-obsessed boys' votes helped too.
"Derek Minster will be auditing this lecture. Hit him with lots of questions, especially."
"The tough ones?"
The two bantered like old accomplices in conspiracy.
"Exactly. The Minster family has always been known for assassins, so they're clueless about longswords."
"True, he only used daggers to take down Stillman."
The blond, blue-eyed man nodded leisurely, arms crossed, leg jiggling lightly.
"Humiliate him so he can't answer. Show him the Imperial Academy isn't to be trifled with."
"Got it. I'll do my best."
The dean handed over a white envelope.
Kyle peeked at the checks inside and smiled in satisfaction.
"Then I'll be off."
Dean Percival watched the sword theory professor's retreating figure with intense seriousness.
Truth be told, he had few personal ambitions.
As a former magic tower lord, he'd amassed plenty of wealth.
Yet his wariness of the guest lecturer stemmed from one thing.
'Honor.'
Obsessed with prestige, Percival wanted the academy stable under his tenure.
But a mafia boss gets hired as guest lecturer.
Aintz the prime minister demands he be properly hazed.
Parents complain how such a man could teach.
In the end, the dean decided to force Derek out midway.
Crushed by the prestigious academy's overwhelming standards, he'd leave on his own.
Enter the 'Swordsmanship Theory' audit class.
"Hoo... Idiots who only know daggers couldn't possibly understand knightly swordsmanship."
The dean cast invisibility magic on himself.
Completely vanished, he sneaked to the classroom.
True to his purple magic tower roots—masters of illusory magic—no one noticed.
Thus, he could savor Derek Minster's execution from the hallway window.
But.
He had no idea.
That the star of his prepared spectacle wasn't...
the North's massive serpent...
but his precious star lecturer.
Entering the classroom, popular professor Kyle Lockheed sensed the unusual atmosphere.
Probably because of that scary-looking warden.
Definitely plotting treason.
Swallowing hard at the intimidating presence, he forced a natural smile and began.
"Everyone eat a good breakfast? Bit chilly today."
The girls chorused back enthusiastically.
Kyle loved that sound.
Nothing beat popularity with the ladies.
But...
Three girls in the back row ignored his greeting entirely.
"New faces in the back? Transfers?"
"........."
Clea, Pranka, and Myoran gave no response.
Stung inwardly, he cleared his throat and changed topics.
"Exchange students, huh? Everyone, help them settle in."
"Yes!!"
The other girls' lively replies fell flat for him now.
Those three in the back were overwhelmingly stunning.
'Fine. Prideful types? I have ways.'
Fired up, Kyle resolved to prove his adult superiority.
By bombarding the creepy warden with questions until he crumbled.
"Oh, perfect timing. Our new guest lecturer's here."
"Derek Minster."
"Pleasure. Heard all about your feats at the North's Greatest Sword Tournament."
"Thank you."
Praise first.
Then overwhelm the puffed-up foe to assert dominance.
That was Kyle's way.
"A man of your caliber must be an expert in sword theory too. Hope you find my lecture enlightening."
Kyle grinned and picked up the chalk.
He began writing the lesson on the massive blackboard.
About ten minutes in.
Following the dean's orders, he went into full gear.
"Morning class, everyone looks sleepy. Let's check if you're following with a question."
He set the chalk down with a clack.
"Anyone know how many imperial sword styles there are?"
The classroom fell pin-drop silent.
Understandable.
They hadn't covered it yet.
The real target was Derek Minster.
"Hmm... No takers? What about our tournament champion from the North?"
"........."
Derek didn't answer immediately, as expected.
The professor's lips curled like a hunter gripping a snake's neck in victory.
"No idea? I figured an Imperial Academy grad would know..."
Kyle aimed to subtly demean while boasting his knowledge.
But his words jammed up hard.
"Twelve."
I cut him off decisively.
"...Oh dear. Thought you'd forgotten with the silence."
Kyle flashed a broad smile, masking his annoyance.
My answer was dead wrong anyway.
"Sadly, that's incorrect."
He grabbed the chalk again, smug with superiority.
And swiftly listed ten imperial sword styles.
"The Imperial Knights have exactly ten styles. So where's twelve from?"
Some students snickered at his smug tone.
The laughter spread like a virus, filling the room with jeers.
"Minster family style? Figures assassins would have tons of dirty dagger tricks."
But once more, the professor's mouth snapped shut.
This time, so tight he nearly choked.
"Actually, Professor, you're the one who's wrong."
The back-row beauties who'd stayed silent till now.
One who hadn't even glanced his way raised her hand.
"...Pardon?"
Everyone whipped around at her outburst.
All eyes locked on the blue-haired girl, Clea.
"The imperial sword styles officially number twelve."
"What? You saying I, an Imperial Knight alum, am wrong?"
Kyle shot back with clear discomfort.
No matter how gorgeous, he wouldn't tolerate her scratching his ego.
"Yes. Completely wrong."
Clea, ex-imperial secretary, added coldly.
"Beyond those ten, there's Angard Style and Lichten Style. But they're so advanced and complex, they're often skipped."
She pulled a monocle from her ample blouse pocket and donned it.
"I hear they deliberately omit them for weaker students..."
With her signature disdain for the inferior.
"Is the professor one of those cases?"
I struggled to hide my inward glee.
Clea's sharp tongue was a disaster for first-timers.
'Taste the North's ice, you capital hicks.'