The Teachers of the Main Characters Want to Quit – Chapter 24
13. Parent–Teacher Conference, Now With a Side of the Imperial Family (3)
‘Ugh, so stuffy. I’m tired.’
Even while Estelle briefly zoned out, the Emperor and Lucien continued their conversation.
“I had something I wanted to ask my daughter’s teacher.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Lately, the princess hasn’t been telling me much about what happens at the academy. She used to tell me every little thing. I’ve been worried.”
Estelle dropped her gaze to the side.
‘Seriously, he’s nitpicking over everything…’
She told him everything when she was young because the Imperial Palace had eyes everywhere—she couldn’t lie even if she wanted to. But how long could anyone be expected to personally report every detail of their private life?
He already had eyes and ears planted all over the place anyway; it wasn’t like he didn’t know.
She’d gotten tired of making up stories, so she’d casually responded with things like “It’s fun” and “I’m doing well.” Now, of course, he was starting to get strange ideas.
‘And now he’s going to blame the wrong person again.’
Estelle subtly shook her head at her teacher, who was glancing at her with slightly trembling eyes.
‘Something you can’t talk about?’
‘No, nothing like that.’
But suddenly, Lucien wore a face that said she had made a resolution.
“Your Majesty, Her Highness is thirteen this year, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“At that age, most young ladies don’t share every little detail of academy life with their fathers.”
“What was that…?”
“You’ve heard of something called adolescence, I believe.”
An earthquake spread through the Emperor’s eyes.
He suddenly recalled the ministers who constantly complained that raising children was pointless…
And the way he used to laugh at them, insisting his daughter would never become like that!
* * *
In the office of Noctua’s Headmaster, Headmaster Aten—dragged out after teachers begged him to sign documents while he was tending to his beloved little ones—froze mid–page flip.
“Huh? Teacher Lucien went to the Imperial Palace?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Her Highness the Princess is in her class.”
“Well, that fellow… Becoming Emperor has made him far too lazy. Tsk tsk…”
Isn’t it more of a problem if the Emperor is not lazy?
Radehols thought so, but didn’t dare say it. Only someone like Headmaster Aten could refer to the Emperor like he lived next door.
Stroking his long beard with dissatisfaction, Aten muttered:
“That child is going to have a hard time.”
Was he really the one who should be saying that, after assigning the princess to that class?
Radehols looked at him in disbelief.
People said Aten appeared like a woman to some, a child to others—but to Radehols, he looked like a shameless old man.
Without signing the paperwork he’d been nagged for, the old man suddenly asked:
“By the way, is Duke Rosanaht here today?”
“He should be. He has a class. Why do you ask?”
Grunting, the headmaster rose and pulled an envelope from a drawer. Something rattled inside.
“Give this to him. And ask him to deliver it to Teacher Lucien at the palace after class.”
‘Ah, no. I don’t want to.’
Radehols trembled.
The young Duke Rosanaht was polite and not nearly as terrifying as the rumors implied—but he was still terrifying just to stand near.
He carried an oppressive, cold smell of death, like a being that wasn’t quite human.
He wondered how the frail Lucien—who looked like she’d topple over from a tap—could stand next to him so casually.
Although maybe that was what they called the “radiation effect”? He did look less scary when she was beside him.
“I can just take it directly to her—”
“If you really don’t want to, then I suppose this old man will have to drag himself all the way to the duke’s laboratory…”
Aten began rubbing his knees pitifully.
That pathetic display made Radehols raise both hands in defeat.
“No, no. I will deliver it to His Grace.”
“Haha, that’s why I trust you. You know how much I care for you, hm?”
“Of course. I always respect and follow you, Headmaster.”
Warm, wholesome, utterly insincere smiles bloomed—the smiles of working adults.
Riding that mood, Radehols asked:
“Headmaster… how did you decide on Teacher Lucien’s class assignment? They say it’s full of extraordinary students.”
“Why? Should I have given them to you?”
“No, no! Never!”
Aten burst into laughter at the sight of Radehols frantically waving his hands.
“That class can only be handled by that child. There’s a reason for it.”
“Noel Ephron can be managed since Teacher Lucien is a master of barrier arts… but the others?”
“You seem very worried about your junior.”
We’re all worried. Except you, old man.
Many teachers wondered what would happen if their precious youngest colleague quit—if they would have to take over.
Radehols didn’t think Lucien would quit easily.
Sure, she said “May Noctua crumble” and “I want to quit” every day, but people who complain like that never actually quit.
“Well, as you know, balance is important. And people have been talking about this year’s advanced first-year class assignments.”
Assignments were decided by the headmaster, but complaints were all going to the department head—Radehols. He raised the issue timidly.
Ignoring him, Aten twisted his beard left and right, then finally picked up his pen.
“Tell me… do you think you can scoop water back into a pot once it’s spilled?”
“Probably not?”
“Exactly. So isn’t it better to have it spill a little slower?”
Radehols blinked.
Was the old man spouting nonsense just to shut him up?
Aten handed him the signed papers.
“Give that envelope to the duke. If he refuses, tell him it’s for Teacher Lucien.”
“Yes, sir…”
Carrying the stack of documents that took over thirty minutes to get signed, Radehols pondered the old man’s words.
‘How does water spill… slowly?’
He still had no idea.
He just wanted to get this unpleasant errand over with.
Today’s practical class was being held near the misty lake beside the west tower.
‘Wow… that fits him perfectly.’
The gloomy image of Chester Rosanaht in his mind matched the cold, damp fog around the lake and the looming stone tower like a painting.
Which made him want to go even less.
“If it weren’t for performance evaluations, I swear…”
When he arrived, the training grounds were full of screaming students, clashing weapons, and roaring beasts.
‘Goddess above…’
He squeezed his eyes shut at the sight of monster corpses and blood splattering everywhere.
Fortunately for Radehols, Chester noticed the outsider immediately.
The teacher I met before, with Lucien.
He remembered the woman who had clung to his cape and tugged it nonstop.
For no reason at all, Chester smoothed his already-perfect cape, scanned the students, and approached Radehols.
To him, Lucien’s senior colleague looked like he was about to faint.
This scene wasn’t pleasant for ordinary people.
Strangely, the extremely fragile-looking Lucien had watched scenes like this without blinking.
She’s braver than she looks.
More suited to a lady’s life than a mage’s, yet still unshaken.
“Sir… Your Grace. The headmaster asked me to deliver this.”
Unable to decide what to call him, Radehols finally handed over the envelope.
“What is this?”
“I’m not sure. He was talking about Teacher Lucien going to the palace for a consultation and then suddenly…”
The Emperor.
At that word, Chester’s expression turned much colder.
Radehols swallowed hard.
That old man should know who he’s ordering around!
Headmaster Aten had talent—he always found the best use for any resource.
But what if that resource had poor relations with the Imperial family?
This won’t end well!
Chester stared at the envelope like it contained a rock someone handed him as a gift.
Then Radehols realized, horrified, that he’d forgotten to say who the envelope was for.
“Ah—he said it would be necessary for Teacher Lucien, and to make sure you—”
“I understand.”
“—since you’re busy, I could— Huh?”
The immediate response made Radehols blink.
“I will give it to Teacher Lucien.”
“Y-Yes. I don’t know why it’s needed but…”
He never imagined Chester would accept an errand like this.
And so readily at that.
