Reverse Psychology
“It’s gonna be tough.”
Today, as always, I was holed up in Leden’s lab. Ever since Helena had officially appointed me as the Punishment Instructor that morning, the stares following me had changed. Before, it was just stuff like, “Hey, magic byproduct!” or “Take out this trash!” But now, all I heard were whispers keeping their distance: “That’s the guy?” “A servant’s doing the Punishment Instructor job?” “The pervert who spanks girls’ asses—that’s him?”
I’d fled to Leden’s lab to escape those contemptuous glares I could no longer ignore.
Here, at least, I could dodge the surrounding eyes and swim through the waves of stares.
“There’s never been a case of a servant being put in an instructor position anywhere.”
Leden was trying to comfort me in his own way, but I’m a hardcore T-type realist when it comes to MBTI. What I wanted wasn’t sympathy—it was a solution.
“How about this? Explain to the students why you were made Punishment Instructor. They might understand then.”
“That’s why Helena’s getting flak—she couldn’t explain it.”
That was it. Leden fell silent again, deep in thought about what to do. Ah, Leden—you’d be a clear F-type if MBTI existed here. Why try so hard to empathize? You could just leave me be. Such a nosy, kind old man.
“Just leave me alone.”
“How can I, when you’re under the desk radiating the world’s most depressing aura…?”
“If this keeps up, the witches will target me, and I’ll end up as mincemeat anyway.”
Yeah, ever since I was summoned as a servant, my life was destined for the chopping block. I should’ve been ground into magical ingredients somewhere in the academy basement. Why’d I grovel and struggle to survive, Lee Hyun?
“Leave me alone!”
“I’m not touching you.”
Don’t go all T-mode now! Damn it!
“Hmm.”
Did he have more to say? Leden rolled his eyes thoughtfully and tapped on the desk I’d crawled under.
“Want me to tell you something reassuring, at least?”
“Pass if it’s something lame like ‘Ta-da! Here’s a magic spell to cheer you up!’”
“What’s that supposed to be? What I mean is, no matter how much the students look down on you, no magician in Luna would dare challenge Miss Sena.”
How was that relevant to my situation? I poked my head out from under the desk, and Leden smiled warmly, explaining calmly as if to reassure me.
“Do you know what Miss Sena’s presence means in Luna?”
“Just a scary witch?”
“That’s part of it. But she’s more than just a witch.”
Leden was slotting some handmade wands into a round tube, filled with ones of various materials and shapes.
“The solitary Ice Witch. The Queen of Luna.”
“…I’ve heard her called the Ice Witch, but Queen of Luna? Isn’t the queen title usually for the academy director?”
“Would the director get involved in student power struggles?”
Hm, fair point. Think back to our school days—if the principal jumped into kids fighting over top dog status, it’d be pure comedy.
“Why do you think the top rank in Luna’s hierarchy—the ‘Queen’ title—went to her?”
“Because she’s regal like a queen? Or just queenly? Or maybe…”
“Because she’s the strongest.”
Sena’s strength had shown subtly many times. Leden hyped her up a lot, and students were extra careful around her. But was she that strong? She always wandered alone—or with us—ate alone, played alone, studied alone, lost in lonely contemplation… Wait, isn’t that a loner?
“No massive magician faction ruling Luna makes anyone bow before Miss Sena. She already sorted the pecking order in past tournaments.”
“Tournaments? As an academy fan, that name’s got my heart racing already.”
“…? Oh, you don’t know?”
He pulled open a rarely used drawer, revealing a stack of papers. Dust flew up as he brushed them off—they’d been neglected for ages. Why keep all that? No wonder the lab’s a mess.
Soon, Leden slid a sheet my way. A flyer for the “Luna Magic Contest.”
“Luna holds this ‘Magic Contest’ now and then. Open to all students, plus outside magicians and other academies—a huge event.”
Ooh, my heart’s on fire! Tournaments are the flower of academy stories, their very essence!
“You look excited.”
“Of course! Students banding together to show off magic, sorting ranks—pure dopamine rush!”
“Uh? Lee Hyun, you’re misunderstanding something.”
Leden shrugged with that Western puzzled gesture.
“The Magic Contest is very scary. Criminal magicians join, ancient ones, even spirits of past magicians, and…”
“Whoa, whoa! Hold up—those sound insanely huge, and you just glossed over them? Why would they enter an academy contest?”
“It’s academy tradition. Not just students—any qualified outsider can join.”
“What do they do?”
“Rules change yearly, but basically, win within the set rules. Tournament style, simple.”
“Ugh, just checking—do people die?”
“Obviously. Eighty died last year.”
Wait, what? This isn’t the academy flower I imagined! Why so many deaths?
I scratched my head hard as reality clashed with fantasy, my head throbbing. Leden tucked the flyer away.
“And Miss Sena caused all eighty casualties alone.”
“…Sena?”
“Ancient magicians, dragon-blooded heirs, forbidden magic users—none mattered before her. Lives were meaningless.”
Sena was that strong? But then, “Why does she wander alone?”
“…She’s always been a loner, but the main reason’s different.”
His voice turned unusually wistful. Turning from me, Leden pulled a magic book from the shelf.
“Her family’s turned their back on her.”
The real harassment kicked off around afternoon. Not aimed at me, though—Sena. They didn’t call me “Instructor” either.
“You Sena’s dog or what?”
High-pitched tone. Every syllable dripped disdain. You could tell her personality just from listening. Infuriating.
I turned toward the voice. No one visible—just purple hair at eye level with the floor.
“Where you looking?!”
Lower my gaze a bit, and there she was. Tiny stature. Fierce eyes. That witch with the hard-to-remember name. Elias Quinnel—Eri.
“Flaunting whose servant you are. Did Sena teach you to act like that?”
Insulting me while dragging Sena in. She couldn’t hide her feelings, just spewing jealousy or rivalry toward Sena.
“Gettin’ cocky as instructor already? Not even a day in, and you’re acting just like someone.”
I hadn’t said a word, yet she rattled off lines nonstop. Any opening, and she’d snarl at absent Sena, not me.
Like a yappy Chihuahua—annoying, not scary. I just wanted to avoid her. Or maybe, what would she be like after some training? Those in the know get it. Feisty girls seem tough, but breaking their stiff pride day by day is thrilling. Especially ones like her—the more outward bravado, the softer inside.
Channeling Sena’s chill, I asked coldly, “Got something to say?”
“Tch.”
That tongue-click grated most. First habit to fix when the time comes.
“Who put you up to it? Sena? Helena?”
“What?”
“Or the Michele family? Telling her to grab the academy another way since she won’t inherit the director spot?”
What the hell?
“You’ve been duped. Think you can run the academy like that?”
“I don’t get it. Just spit out your business simply?”
“Business? Ha. Quit being instructor. That simple enough?”
Obvious. Her gripe stemmed from my position, so the demand was predictable. I wanted to quit too, but her ordering it triggered reverse psychology.
“That all? Then I’m going. Thought it was something important, but just lame crap.”
I ignored her outright. Wasted time pretending to listen. As I turned to leave pointedly, Eri—baited perfectly—raged.
“Servant ignoring a witch, you arrogant—!”
My back stung. Cold yet burning heat. Magic? But Helena and Leden said no worries!
As my neck prickled and I flinched instinctively, “Elias.”
Sena’s voice, descending the central stairs. Eri froze mid-wand draw.
“What’s with that tone toward the Punishment Instructor?”