<Chapter 13>
[Returned Lady Herr Helian, the Shadow Behind Teferon’s City Center!
The whereabouts of the missing Lady Herr Helian have been confirmed after ten days. Coincidentally, an illegal slave caravan was operating in the heart of Teferon.
Due to the rampage of an intruder who broke into the slave caravan, the building was destroyed, leading to the bizarre incident where the kidnapped Lady Herr Helian and citizens escaped amid the chaos.
Baron Giress and Viscount Hazanne, who had turned a blind eye despite confirming the existence of the auction house….]
Laren tossed the newspaper she’d been reading indifferently onto the seat across from her in the carriage. A rumbling growl echoed from her stomach, signaling hunger.
“Intruder…. Couldn’t they use a cooler, more fitting word? What’s with ‘intruder’?”
Grumbling, Laren pulled out a cream bun she’d gotten from the Helian viscount’s estate and took a bite. Fortunately, the article made no mention of anything related to fire-based magic.
Just in case, she’d asked Viscount Helian not to reveal her involvement. He couldn’t understand why she’d refuse credit for such a meritorious act, but Laren had her own crucial reasons.
On the Sodir continent, pure white hair wasn’t a common color. If even a hint of her description appeared in the paper, the duchess might catch wind of it upon reading.
Correction: not just catch wind—she might seize her entirely. After all, the duchess firmly believed Laren was a walking magnet for trouble.
‘If she finds out, my life might really be in danger.’
Shuddering at the chill that ran through her, Laren shook her head and noticed the scar remaining on her hand. Amid the chaos, she hadn’t thought about it, but now questions about the troll surfaced.
Monsters didn’t obey human commands. They viewed humans as inferior and weak, and most couldn’t even comprehend language.
Trolls, in particular, had even lower intelligence than orcs, who lived in packs; they were like ogres, dominated solely by the instinct to hunt prey. By all logic, it should have targeted the caravan leader, who was easier to hunt than Laren, with her detectable mana.
Yet the troll had persistently attacked only Laren. Circumstantially, it seemed as if it had been following the slave trader’s orders—but could they have captured and raised a young troll?
‘Tre… Come on, raising a troll as a pet doesn’t make sense. Maybe a small monster, but.’
Trolls lacked even the intelligence to be domesticated like dogs or cats. You could end up getting devoured after raising one.
The very idea of breeding monsters was utterly outlandish. As Laren recalled the situation, her head throbbed trying to puzzle out an unsolvable problem.
“We’re here.”
The coachman’s gravelly voice announced their arrival. Stretching her stiff body, Laren leaped out of the carriage, only to be greeted by a rare and astonishing sight.
‘…It’s even more impressive than I thought?’
Mouth agape, Laren looked up at the iron gates of the main entrance. Befitting the academy that represented the Prykan Empire, the gateway exuded grandeur from the start.
Reditern Municipal Academy. The entrance sign, each letter gilded in gold, emanated an overwhelming sense of intimidation. To think of all the twists and turns she’d endured to get here.
‘I’m getting nervous for no reason.’
Swallowing the last of the cream bun, Laren approached the knight standing guard with a tense expression. The knight carefully read the recommendation letter she presented, then gestured to his counterpart across the way. As the other knight pulled hard on the handle, the massive doors opened with a resounding groan.
“Head straight to the dean’s office.”
“Yes, thank you for your hard work.”
She’d come to lift the curse, but the thought of actually enrolling in the academy made her a bit jittery. Laren’s age was on the older side for admission, and her magical prowess already surpassed what was typical for academy students.
She’d never imagined she’d have the chance to attend one. Since she had to face it anyway, she resolved to approach it positively.
Unravel the curse’s clues and learn magical knowledge! With that, she took a step forward to chase two rabbits at once.
“Why is this academy so huge?!”
For now, let’s set aside those two rabbits. Finding the dean’s office proved an immediate obstacle. She’d been wandering for thirty minutes, but the buildings towered skyward with wide gaps between them, and the biggest issue was something else entirely.
The students who appeared to be enrolled at the academy scattered like startled birds the moment Laren showed any sign of approaching. Was it because she was a stranger in plain clothes? Even so, their wariness seemed excessive.
‘Please, at least let me ask where the dean’s office is!’
Her inner plea went unanswered as the midday sun beat down mercilessly on the top of her head.
“Huff, huff. I can’t walk anymore.”
Mages boasted immense mana but rock-bottom stamina. Exhausted from roaming the campus, Laren plopped down haphazardly under a tree. She wasn’t some filthy creature, yet they fled the instant she drew near.
“What is this! Argh!”
A surge of frustration boiled over, and Laren flopped onto her back, rolling around in irritation. Was there a school rule forbidding conversation with outsiders? Or did she look so disreputable that they’d run away?
No such rule made sense, and she was dressed in the neat attire provided by the Helian viscount’s household.
And above all, her face was handsome.
“Hello?”
“Eek!”
Startled by the voice coming from right beside her, Laren bolted upright. A boy was crouched there.
“Why so surprised?”
“Because you appeared out of nowhere without a sound!”
She hadn’t sensed even the slightest presence. Was he skilled? As she crouched down beside him in turn, the boy’s silver eyes narrowed.
“Aren’t you being a bit too casual with your speech?”
“You’re the one who’s casual.”
Their gazes tangled in midair, sparking a subtle battle of nerves. Those silver eyes scanned Laren up and down appraisingly. Soon, his neatly groomed gray hair tousled as the boy broke into a bright, sunny smile.
“You’re kinda fun!”
He clapped his hands, then slapped Laren’s back with enthusiastic pats. A tingling sting spread across her back, prompting Laren to grab his hand to stop him.
If anyone’s funny, it’s you—why the sudden chumminess? Glaring at him with sharp eyes, Laren watched as the boy widened his already round eyes even further.
“What? Didn’t you need help?”
“I do—desperately.”
Laren swiftly shifted her attitude. This boy was the first student to approach her since entering the academy. If she let this chance slip, finding the dean’s office might take the whole day.
“What is it?”
“Tell me which building the dean’s office is in—please!”
With not a single person willing to answer such a simple question, she’d spent nearly an hour circling the sprawling academy grounds like a lost soul. Any sense of awe at its grandeur had vanished long ago.
“It’s the building right behind you?”
The boy’s finger pointed over Laren’s shoulder. A structure with a pointed green roof—it was unmistakably the one she’d passed by thirty minutes earlier. To think she’d collapsed in despair right in front of it; a tidal wave of futility crashed over her, and Laren dragged a hand across her face.
“Ugh, thanks—really.”
She cast a deeply grateful glance at the gray-haired boy who’d spared her further pointless trudging. She was truly, profoundly thankful.
She’d had more than enough of wandering under the scorching sun. And being human after all, the sight of would-be classmates fleeing every time she tried to approach had stung her in its own subtle way.
“It’s nothing. You’re the commoner that Viscount Helian wrote the recommendation for, right?”
“Huh? Yeah. How did you know?”
“It’d be stranger not to know.”
The boy offered a enigmatic smile. The way his vertically elongated eyes curved just so was utterly charming. Based on his reaction, it seemed the news of a commoner enrolling via recommendation had already spread.
“Is it really that much of a rumor?”
Enrolling a commoner in the academy was notoriously rigorous, so the recommendation did amount to special treatment of sorts. She’d anticipated drawing some eyes, but not before she’d even officially enrolled.
“Hurry and go. Aren’t you running late?”
“Huh? Oh, right! Thanks for the heads-up!”
Upon entering the gates, the knights had likely notified the dean’s office. An hour had easily slipped by, and with no visitor appearing, the dean might grow irritated and deny admission altogether. Her heart now pounding with urgency, Laren sprang to her feet and bolted toward the building at her back.
‘Dean’s office, dean’s office…. Second floor, center.’
A detailed map hung inside the green-roofed building. As she turned to ascend the stairs, a woman who seemed a touch young to be a professor approached.
“Are you Sir Ren?”
“Yes?”
“The dean is expecting you. This way.”
The woman led with precise, elegant strides. Now that the moment to face the dean had arrived, the tension she’d momentarily forgotten reared its head once more.
The woman’s steps came to a halt before a door etched with ornate, antique designs. Knock knock—the light rap produced a surprisingly resonant thud.
“Dean, the prospective enrollee is here.”
“Show them in.”
The woman who had opened the door shifted her body slightly aside to allow easy passage. Thump thump—to steady her escalating heartbeat, Laren drew in a long, deep breath.
“You’re late.”
Contrary to her mental image of a wizened old man, a gentleman who didn’t even appear to be in his forties reclined against an antique chair. Her blue eyes roamed the dean’s office with keen interest.
‘No wonder it’s the dean’s office.’
Befitting the prestige of Reditern Municipal Academy, the room brimmed with an array of swords, books, and magical artifacts. Items imbued with the weight of centuries formed an oddly harmonious tableau. Laren offered a respectful bow accompanied by a courteous apology.
“As it’s my first time here, I encountered some challenges. I apologize.”
‘It was brutally challenging.’
Having accepted the recommendation letter, the dean fixed his gaze on Laren’s grave expression. Just as the scrutiny began to feel uncomfortably prolonged, the dean unfurled the document he’d received.
“Fourth circle, is it…. How did a commoner achieve that?”
“I trained through self-study with books.”
A rote response, yet an indisputable truth. Magic wasn’t a field one could conquer merely through instruction. Unlike swordsmanship, where physical conditioning could be honed through practice, exceptional mentors were rare. One might receive guidance on mana manipulation, but ultimately, perceiving and wielding it fell squarely on the individual.
“Ignis Qualitas. What precisely?”
“Pure fire.”
Because she’d unleashed a barrage of Ignis-based spells at the slave market, she’d had no choice but to specify it that way on the recommendation. She hadn’t intended to mention Holy Qualitas regardless, but if that rarest of mutations became public knowledge, it was inevitable she’d draw unwanted scrutiny from the world at large.
Her goal in enrolling at the academy was to ferret out the cursed one discreetly, so unnecessary attention was something she’d rather avoid. Having turned over the recommendation, the dean propped his chin in his hand and drifted into contemplation.
The dean’s brown eyes settled on Laren. He hadn’t ascended to the academy’s helm by chance; even his casual gaze bound her in an oddly constricting way.
“Summon magic right now.”
“Which spell…?”
“Your most assured one.”
‘This must be the admission requirement Viscount Helian alluded to.’
Contrary to her assumption of a written exam, it seemed deceptively straightforward, allowing Laren to exhale in quiet relief. It struck her more as the dean’s personal assessment than a formal entry criterion.
‘Since I claimed fourth circle….’
Envisioning the formula for a fourth-circle spell in her mind, Laren channeled mana to the tips of her five fingers.
“Flames of the Inferno Emperor, Finger Fire!”
Small, spherical flames erupted atop each fingertip. Having conjured Finger Fire without a lengthy incantation, a spark of intrigue lit the dean’s eyes.
“Hoo, you calculated the formula mentally?”
“Yes. Up to the third circle, I can summon without incantations.”
Laren didn’t miss the chance to underscore her advantages. A wave of admiration washed over the dean’s features. Summoning magic sans incantation demanded mana affinity—a innate talent where one possessed an inherent closeness to mana.
The adage that genius comprises 99% effort and 1% inspiration didn’t hold in the realm of magic. Talent existed to be harnessed, and it wasn’t without reason that she’d pursued magic so ardently. As he studied Laren’s self-assured demeanor, the dean gave a nod.
“That’s sufficient.”
‘Passed…? Just like that?’
With a light clap, the dean shifted his hand to the pen. Buoyed by the notably favorable response, Laren gave a casual flick of her arm to dispel the Finger Fire. The dean’s pen-wielding hand darted swiftly across the recommendation. From the motion, the pace, every aspect—it was unmistakably a signature.
“I approve your enrollment.”
‘Finally!’
How her heart had raced in anticipation of this very instant; she nearly leaped with a triumphant fist pump right there before the dean. A rush of elation surged through her at having cleared the first major hurdle at last.
