<Chapter 22>

“Lord Robein should join us as well.”

Those golden eyes crinkled into a smile, and Jian trailed after him, utterly entranced. And that was how they’d ended up here. In a flash, Jian had perked up with renewed energy, his natural affinity drawing him closer to Ensis like a magnet.

Sandwiched between the two, who chattered away with infectious enthusiasm, Laren trudged along in a daze. Any resolve to slip away from Ensis had long since flown off to the far reaches of the continent. The moment he showed the slightest hint of backing off, a hand clamped down on his shoulder—enough to drive anyone mad.

*Ha….*

Laren’s stifled sigh scattered into the courtyard air. Jian, thoroughly ensnared by Ensis’s charm, took to the tour with bubbly excitement. The central magic hall, the training grounds, the auditorium. After dealing with Laren’s half-hearted reactions, encountering an angel who met every word with a smile had him positively buoyant.

“Lord Tatio.”

A figure stepped into the path of Laren’s lively group as they strolled along. The rustle of her dress hem brushed against the grass.

The Reditern Municipal Academy permitted casual attire on non-event days, so long as it didn’t breach decorum. Of course, Laren had neither the money nor the clothes for it, so his uniform had become a second skin. He’d cautiously maintain that the true finishing touch on any outfit was the face.

“It’s been too long, Lady Mordyn.”

Ensis’s courteous reply made Jian and Laren’s eyes go wide as saucers. The three great ducal houses of the Fraikan Empire: Mercantia, Tatio, and the last—Mordyn. They’d known Lady Mordyn was enrolled here, but encountering the figure known only through whispers firsthand sent a spark of intrigue flickering over Laren’s blue eyes.

“To enroll without a word… I would have come calling if you’d only given me a heads-up.”

Jenia Mordyn lifted a fan adorned with gold filigree to her lips, her eyes curving in delight. Brown irises hid within that crinkled smile. With each motion, her light brown hair swayed gently at her waist. It all unfolded before Laren’s eyes like a living panorama.

“It was a sudden decision, so I regret not seeking you out first.”

Ensis inclined his head in proper deference to the lady, then brushed a light kiss to the back of Jenia Mordyn’s hand. No doubt he was playing to the many watching eyes. What a performer.

“No matter. And these gentlemen…?”

Jenia Mordyn’s gaze shifted to the two, whose mouths hung slack in awe. Even with her eyes fixed on him, Laren couldn’t pull himself together. A woman—no, any being—who could steal his attention like this? A first.

“Friends I’ve made here at the academy.”

“J-Jian Robein.”

“…Ren.”

“A pleasure. Jenia Mordyn.”

They’d forgotten the protocol: lower ranks should introduce themselves first. The two, still dazed, fumbled through their courtesies, and Jenia Mordyn rewarded them with a radiant smile.

*God, she’s just too beautiful!*

It was a truth of nature: beauty of one’s own gender always drew the eye a little sharper. With a demeanor that seemed flawless to boot, Laren’s fondness skyrocketed. Jian’s hushed, excitable whisper tickled his ear.

“I’d only heard the tales—first time seeing her in the flesh. My god!”

“…Same here.”

Laren mumbled in agreement, his face still hazy with wonder. Ensis, who’d been quietly appraising Laren, tilted his head with a soft smile.

“Ren’s a new student here too. We were in the midst of touring the grounds together.”

“Oh? So *you’re* the one…”

Laren’s form reflected in those clear brown eyes. Once more, he found himself staring at Jenia Mordyn in helpless bewilderment. Could beauty really leave him this unmoored? The thought trailed off into a vague unease.

“My, I’ve taken up far too much of your time. Let’s share a tea sometime soon.”

“Y-Yes, of course. Thank you.”

“Do take care.”

Jian stammered his reply, and Ensis dipped his head in a light bow, a smile of inscrutable meaning on his lips. Jenia Mordyn gathered her skirts with elegant poise and turned away. Laren’s gaze lingered on her receding figure for a long, long moment.

“You’d best be careful.”

The low murmur slipped from Ensis, his eyes still fixed on her back. The two, unable to parse his intent, cocked their heads—and Ensis’s smile deepened.

“Her Qualitas is pheromones.”

“What?!”

“It’s something of an open secret.”

*Pheromones?*

Laren and Jian’s jaws dropped as they leaped back in unison. Pheromones were one of the rare earth-aspect Qualitas. So *that* was the source of the subtle disquiet Jenia Mordyn had stirred? Laren’s expression hardened ever so slightly.

“Is she in swordsmanship too?”

“No, scholarly A-Class.”

“Then why…?”

For those without mana, Qualitas amounts to little more than a faint inclination. In the scholarly division, Jenia Mordyn would count among those who wield no mana. And yet, it had left him this utterly addled? Laren licked his lips, pondering the nagging question that followed.

“Ren, you seem to have a thing for beauties.”

Caught off guard, Laren averted his gaze from Ensis’s knowing look. It was true. With his weakness for beautiful faces, Laren was the type most susceptible to pheromones’ sway. Hadn’t he fallen head over heels for Kar’s cuteness in an instant?

At least the bewitching Qualitas that had ensnared him served to purify the pheromones’ pull, keeping his daze to a mere muddle. The realization sent a shiver racing down Laren’s spine. Pheromones might just be the deadliest Qualitas for him, after all.

* * *

Lately, Pignone and his crew had noticeably dialed back their pursuits of the commoners. More precisely, they simply couldn’t get close.

Laren, after all, had spent the day dogging Kar’s heels, waxing fervent about the perks of pairing up. Even those arrogant types apparently drew the line at ruffling the feathers of someone shadowed by rumors of Mercantia ducal lineage.

“Kar, they say a win gets factored into your grades later on.”

“…”

“If you pair with me, I swear I won’t kiss you anymore! Ah, though that *is* kinda disappointing.”

A sharp glare lanced toward his genuinely wistful expression. Laren hustled to keep pace with Kar’s brisk, uneven stride ahead. The constant chatter clinging to him like a burr had left Kar rubbing his throbbing ear.

“So what’ll you do without a partner, Kar? Skip the sparring period altogether?”

Kar’s absences from the dorm far outnumbered his returns, leaving him with no real options. Miss a day, and the odds of crossing paths the next—or the one after—plummeted, making Laren’s persistence a necessity born of desperation.

Prodding Jian had yielded a few scraps of intel. Kar was nominally in swordsmanship D-Class, but his actual prowess rivaled A-Class. During the last assessment, the professor had thrown out an unprecedented offer: manifest sword aura, and you’d jump straight to A-grade, lectures be damned.

Kar, who’d been attending class, had stepped forward without hesitation and unleashed the aura—something only a sword expert or higher could manage—with casual ease.

Laren had figured his swordplay would be solid, but this? Beyond imagination. The tantalizing details only fanned Laren’s resolve to lock him in as a partner.

“We’re roommates—we could make it work!”

The appeal to dorm-bro loyalty,

“Ha… I don’t have anyone *but* you to pair with.”

The wistful bid for sympathy in those soulful eyes,

“How about we split the prize money if we win?”

Even the lure of cold hard cash fell flat. Regrettably, Kar’s walls loomed higher than the academy’s own.

Trailing him relentlessly as planned, Laren confirmed what he’d suspected: Kar invested zero effort in academy life. Yet he roamed the grounds without a whiff of penalty, which screamed ironclad backing. Laren sank into thought, sensing he’d latched onto a hopeless case from the start.

*Maybe risk it with Ensis… no, that’s not a ‘maybe’—that’s a catastrophe waiting to happen.*

Ensis had been lavishing him with far too much attention. Lost in his brooding, Laren let the gap widen as Kar pressed on ahead. He shook his head sharply and hurried to catch up.

Lately, with his activity outpacing his calorie intake, Laren had even shed some weight. A hundred pushia was too steep a sum to abandon.

The reminder of his inability to afford even dessert twisted into self-loathing. His steps slowed as he followed Kar.

“If you pair with me, I’ll grant you a favor—er, a wish! Anything!”

It was his final pitch. No dice, and he’d have to hunt elsewhere. Shouting it out in a surge of recklessness, Laren deflated with a hollow exhale—when Kar’s stride halted abruptly ahead. Laren’s own feet ground to a stop in tandem.

Kar turned, fixing his blank stare straight on the dumbfounded Laren. A strange tension coiled through Laren’s limbs in that instant. Kar’s face, laced with its usual ennui, advanced without a word.

The height difference forced Laren to look down, Kar to look up—but something felt profoundly off. As if Kar were the one looming over him.

The air hung heavy, words lodged in Laren’s throat; he swallowed dryly. A faint killing intent seeped from the tilted head before him. The binding pressure ratcheted Laren’s fists tight on reflex. Then Kar’s lips curved faintly.

“Anything?”

Kar had always carried an air beyond his childlike years. Especially in moments like this, with that gaze. The dangerous edge Laren had sensed now pinned him squarely.

Sweat slicked his clenched palms; tension thrummed through him. And that very tension grated on his pride in a way that felt utterly absurd. A pointless surge of defiance reared up.

“As long as it’s not ‘die’ or ‘drop out of the academy.'”

“…Fine.”

The corners of Kar’s mouth lifted in faint assent. He scrawled his signature on the proffered pair report and sauntered off. Laren stared after the receding figure, then stomped and flailed in impotent fury.

*I—I got outmaneuvered! By a child!*

His voiceless howl tore free as he raked a hand through his hair. Overwhelmed, just for a heartbeat. The same quiet aura as always, yet laced with unmistakable menace. Like staring down a predator up close.

To be cowed by a kid half his size—Laren tore at his hair in frustration. This wasn’t why he’d poured those endless years into honing his magic.

Even steeling himself couldn’t erase the sweat-damp memory of that brief clash. After shadowboxing the air for what felt like ages, Laren finally conceded it clean: whatever that killing intent was, it was the real, deadly deal.

* * *

“The student who submits latest… and his pair is… Ka—Kar?!”

Shock rippled over the professor’s face as she scanned the report. The lecture hall erupted in murmurs alongside it. Laren blinked in confusion, rubbing his head at the over-the-top reaction. He’d known the rumors about Kar, but a professor gasping like this? Unexpected.

“For *him* to join the sparring period…”

“My god!”

“With *that* commoner, of all people? Why on earth?”

The swelling buzz drilled into Laren’s ears, twitching his brow. Sure, the hype was real, but wasn’t this discrimination a bit much? They were both commoners, after all.

“Kar agreed to this?”

“The report bears his signature.”

A soft exclamation escaped the professor as she checked the bottom.

“His first academy event… ever.”

Laren tilted his head, freshly struck by just how disengaged Kar had been—and how intensely watched. *If he dodges academy life so hard, what *does* he do on those nights he skips the dorm?*

No answers would come, of course. But with Kar as his partner, victory was in the bag.

“Um…”

Laren, burning with combative fire, missed the approaching presence entirely. He jolted and whipped around—startling the woman with her hair neatly braided back, who flinched in kind.

*My god.*

She was the first in D-Class to approach Laren unprompted. His blue eyes wavered, and hers mirrored the uncertainty on her face.