Chapter 14

Unwanted Attention

Allen, now changed from his uniform into training clothes, stared blankly at the vast training ground with unfocused eyes.

“Allen.”

“—Ah! You startled me! Nigel, uh… wow, the weather’s really nice today! Haha… ha…”

“Stop pretending you’re fine.”

“…Ah. Noah told you, didn’t he? I told him again and again to keep it a secret!”

Allen shot Noah a sulky glare.

“No, I asked first. The way you were walking was so strange I couldn’t just ignore it.”

“I-it wasn’t that bad, right? Right, Noah?”

Allen looked at Noah desperately, filled with hope.

“Uh…”

Noah couldn’t find the right words and just rolled his eyes.

“It was that bad. Just tell me what’s wrong. Why are you so worried about a two-hour class?”

“……”

Nigel crossed his arms and stared straight at Allen. But instead of speaking, Allen just pouted.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, fine.”

“N-no!”

Allen hurriedly grabbed Nigel’s arm as he turned away.

“It’s just… a bit embarrassing to say. Do we really have to argue over this?”

“Yeah. You said we were friends—no, destined—when we first met at the station. But you tell things you can’t tell your friend to someone you just met yesterday, like Besselion?”

Nigel’s blunt words made Allen lower his head.

But beneath that lowered head… his face wasn’t gloomy at all—it was bright.

It was the first time Nigel had called him a friend first, instead of denying their relationship or saying nothing.

“…It’s really nothing. That’s why I didn’t say anything… Do you still want to hear it?”

Allen kicked at the sand on the training ground.

“Yeah.”

The answer came immediately.

Allen tried hard to suppress the smile creeping up his lips and lifted his head.

But the moment he saw Nigel’s face, his own flushed.

“…I was afraid…”

“What?”

“…I thought people would find out I’m weak!”

“……”

He had finally gathered the courage to say it, but Nigel said nothing.

He must be disappointed… I knew it.
Even though he had expected it, it still stung.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“…What?”

Allen’s eyes widened at the unexpected reply.

“You already knew from the first time we met that I… have no sense of direction.”

“That’s… true. But that’s something you’re born with. And you’re good at studying.”

“You’re good at finding your way. It’s just different—not bad.”

“…Is it?”

“Yeah. There’s no need to worry about it. And honestly, I already figured out you were weak when you carried my luggage.”

“…You already knew.”

Allen scratched his head awkwardly.

“Yeah. So don’t act tough in front of me and get hurt. Whether you’re good or bad at it, just do it.”

“Nigel…!”

Clap. Clap. Clap.

At that moment, three claps sounded from behind them, and a muscular arm draped itself over Nigel’s shoulder.

“That was quite an impressive speech. Yes, a sword only dances joyfully in the hands of someone who knows their limits.”

The owner of the arm was a woman with her red hair tied high—the same person who had taken Noah away during the entrance ceremony.

Her name was…

“…Professor Rone?”

“…Master.”

She was the professor in charge of first-year Swordsmanship students—and Noah’s childhood swordsmanship teacher.

“How impressive. Knowing my name before introductions. A friend of Noah’s? What should I do—I don’t know your name.”

“That’s alright.”

Professor Rone ruffled Nigel’s hair with her rough, calloused hand, then stepped in front of the students.

“Hello, freshmen! I’m Rone, and I’ll be teaching Basic Swordsmanship this semester. Now, applause!”

Clap clap clap.

“Good, good. Freshmen really do have that pure side. Your seniors wouldn’t even bother.”

Rone laughed heartily.

“I may be the Swordsmanship professor, but during my class, there are no special privileges for any department. Everyone is treated the same. Now then—light warm-up: five laps around the training ground. Go!”

With her booming command, Rone began running.

The hesitant students scrambled to follow her.

“Haah… haaah…”

“I’m… I’m going to die…”

“Well? Feeling warmed up yet? Get up! Stop dragging your feet! Grab one wooden sword each from the front—go!”

At her powerful voice, the students picked up wooden swords with trembling arms.

“Today, we’ll learn how to swing. I’ll demonstrate several times—watch carefully and follow!”

The moment she held the wooden sword, Rone’s expression turned completely serious.

She planted her feet firmly, tightened her core, and swung.

Whoosh!

The swing was so fast the sword’s trajectory couldn’t even be seen.

The powerful gust of wind it created whipped through the students’ hair.

“Ah, my apologies. It’s been a while since I used a wooden sword—I forgot to adjust my strength.”

After testing its weight a few times, she resumed her stance.

“Good. Now, follow me!”

If Kledian’s class was a question hell, Rone’s was a swinging hell.

She placed Noah at the very front and had all students follow his movements and rhythm.

Meanwhile, she walked among them correcting their posture.

“Your upper body is good, but stabilize your lower body more. And you—too much strength in your arms. You’ll injure yourself like that.”

As she walked, her gaze caught on one student.

That one’s posture isn’t bad.

Her eyes gleamed with interest.

That’s… Noah’s friend, right?

Smiling with satisfaction, she approached Nigel.

Sensing her shadow, Nigel stopped mid-swing and looked up.

“You lack muscle, but your form isn’t bad. With some correction, you’ll be quite usable.”

“…Thank you.”

She liked how he accepted praise without fuss.

“So, who taught you swordsmanship?”

“A former temple paladin taught me the basics.”

“No wonder—it has an elegance you don’t see in imperial swordsmanship. Your name?”

“Nigel As, Magic Department.”

“…Magic Department? Not Swordsmanship?”

“Yes.”

Looking closer, his emblem showed the goddess’s hand and owl—the Magic Department symbol—not the sword and lion.

“And you’re the one Heres keeps bragging about.”

Every time she visited the faculty lounge, her colleague had praised him so much that even she, who rarely remembered names, memorized his.

“How about it? Ever thought of transferring? I’ll train you personally. Yes… a tactician! You’ve got the brains for it. What do you say?”

Such an offer from Rone was rare. Swordsmanship students listened with envy.

“Thank you, but I’m not interested in swordsmanship.”

“Interest can come later. Don’t worry—just say the word anytime!”

“…Yes.”

Nigel, now awkwardly caught in unwanted attention, nodded reluctantly.

Meanwhile, Heres, the professor assigned to first-year Magic students this year, had been filled with joy lately.

He had once given up the prestigious position of Imperial Mage to become a professor at Sienia, driven by a childhood dream of guiding young students down the right path.

But reality had been… very different.

His passion to provide quality lectures, his determination to help students through difficulties, his vow to support them and work alongside respected colleagues…

All those resolutions had faded like ink washed away on wet paper over his five years as a professor.

Now, he simply wished that no one—student, professor, or even the dean—would call for him.

Still, compared to the dean who only summoned him at will, or colleagues who dumped their work on him in meetings, students were at least more tolerable.

No—he shouldn’t be fooled by their innocent faces.

Was it really right that these children, who fought so fiercely over a mere one or two department points, were called the future of the empire?

He still doubted it.

On his first day, when he heard the academy rules, he had questioned his own ears.

Students who seemed kind and intelligent in front of him would divide into factions and fight over trivial points behind the scenes.

He had thought it was just harmless boredom from dorm life—but they were deadly serious.

Back when he was new, he once had to break up a fight between students over department points—both nearly half-dead—and send them to the temple together.

Even now, the memory gave him chills.

What was worse… those students had been his own.

He couldn’t even count how many times he had bowed his head to clean up that mess—he couldn’t exactly write “2 points” in the report.

But this year will be different…!

Gone were the days when he blindly believed he could change mischievous students through passion.

Because this year—he was in charge of the first-year Magic Department.