#Chapter 58
—
Her closed eyes fluttered open.
At the same time, a familiar voice drifted over her like a spring breeze.
“Awake now, Elin?”
“…?”
“You suddenly fell asleep. We’re on the way home in the carriage. You must have been really tired.”
Blinking her still-heavy eyes, Elin asked,
“I… fell asleep?”
“Yes. You suddenly keeled over, like your body just gave out.”
At Arthur’s explanation, Elin hurriedly sat upright.
Only then did she realize she had been lying on Arthur’s lap, and she cried out.
“S-sorry! I must’ve been so heavy!”
“No? You’re so light I didn’t feel a thing.”
“…Really?”
“Yes. Why would I lie about that?”
At his words, Elin fell silent.
Then, turning her gaze, she looked at the thigh she had been lying on just moments ago, and unconsciously swallowed dryly.
‘Even if I wasn’t myself… how could I fall asleep on someone else’s lap?’
As the thought crossed her mind, Elin lifted her head.
And just as she was about to apologize to Arthur again, one question brushed across her mind.
‘Wait… why did I fall asleep in the first place?’
Frowning slightly, she tried to think.
But no matter how hard she strained her memory, nothing came.
She remembered going into that fancy restaurant with Arthur—
but after that, she couldn’t recall anything at all.
‘Does that even make sense? No matter how tired I was, how can there be a blank spot *right there*?’
Just as she tilted her head in puzzlement, Arthur curved his lips and spoke.
“Oh, right. Thanks for your stories today, Elin.”
“…?”
“I don’t think you finished the part about Lord Holan the Godfather. Tell me that next time, okay? It was all very interesting.”
“…What did I even say?”
“You talked about lots of things. About the North, where you lived… and about each other.”
Elin’s eyes widened.
“Ab-about each other? What did I say?”
“You fainted right around then, so I didn’t get to hear it.”
“…I… fainted?”
“Yes.”
Elin pulled a sour face.
‘Talking about each other? Wait—why would I have said something like that?’
Her brows drew faintly together with the unease.
Watching her, Arthur carefully kept his expression under control.
‘Looks like she really doesn’t remember. Well… covering it up like this should be fine.’
There was no need to bring up Leon Madrid.
No reason at all to mention that man.
Settling the matter in this way, Arthur stroked his chin.
Because one unsolved question still lingered.
‘Hmm… Why don’t I know the Elin of the future?’
He turned it over in his mind.
But nothing came.
The Arthur of the future had no knowledge of Elin.
Even if he’d been insane for ten years under Sebastian’s poison, once his mind was clear again, he should have at least heard *something* about Elin.
‘If Holan Leverkusen… if the Godfather’s successor truly became the new commander of the North, then I *should* know about it.’
His memory was abnormally perfect—every passing remark, every trivial story, he remembered them all.
So for someone like Elin… there *should* have been a trace.
Because of that, Arthur found himself staring at Elin’s somewhat listless figure, and muttered inwardly,
‘That must mean… something happens to her.’
Just a hypothesis.
But unfortunately, his hunches in matters like this had never been wrong.
And so his gaze tightened as he looked at her.
‘Whatever happens… I hope it’s nothing bad.’
—
—
What began as a light-hearted commission—to apprehend the wanted criminal Marshal Dust—
ended up giving Arthur two wholly unexpected discoveries.
‘Leon Madrid. And Elin.’
But knowing those facts didn’t change anything right away.
When it came to both Leon Madrid and Elin Leverkusen, he was still short on information to take action.
‘Especially with Leon Madrid… moving rashly would be suicide.’
Unless an opportunity to kill him presented itself—
if Arthur made a move to assassinate a prince of the Empire and failed, the consequences would be catastrophic.
He had no intention of taking such a risk.
And so, just like on the first day, he decided to watch and wait for now.
‘Considering the leverage I already hold over him, Leon Madrid won’t be able to act carelessly either.’
With his thoughts in order, Arthur once again set out on his usual route to class.
—
—
**Murmur, murmur.**
The first lecture was Professor Chizzy’s course on Magical Engineering.
It was both fascinating and useful, but because of Professor Chizzy’s stern, exacting personality, it was also one of the toughest classes.
That was why, though ten minutes still remained before it began, almost every seat was already filled.
“Haah…”
“First thing after the weekend is Professor Chizzy’s lecture…”
“I didn’t even finish the weekend assignment. What if I fail this course?”
Hearing the students mutter, Arthur found his seat and sat down.
Taking out his pen and notebook, he waited for Professor Chizzy—
when the classroom door opened, and a black-haired girl stepped in.
“…”
Yenika Hazel.
The eldest daughter of the Hazel family, and the one known as the most beautiful of the first-years this term.
Though a month had passed and one would think people had grown used to her by now, the male students still couldn’t take their eyes off her.
‘Wow… She looks new every time. How can a person even look like that?’
‘She’s like a doll. No expression, stupidly beautiful.’
‘She really *could* be a doll. With a face like that, it’s believable.’
Amidst those stares, Yenika’s eyes flicked sideways—
and landed on Arthur, sitting blankly at a corner seat staring at the blackboard.
She walked over.
“Hello, Young Lord?”
“…Yenika?”
“Yes. Did you rest well over the weekend?”
Without waiting, she plopped herself into the seat beside him.
“I did. But why are you sitting next to me?”
“Shouldn’t I?”
“Pick another seat. I don’t want to sit close to you.”
Yenika’s lips curled.
“Which makes me want to sit even closer. After all, it reminds me of what you did to me, Young Lord.”
Arthur tilted his head.
“Me? What did I do to you?”
“Oh my, you’re going to pretend you don’t know?”
“I honestly don’t, so it’s not pretending. What exactly did I do?”
Her smile deepened.
“Marshal Dust.”
“…”
“The man I caught—that he was a fake. You knew that, didn’t you?”
Arthur gave a low whistle.
“Oh… he was a fake?”
“…You really are going to keep pretending to the end, aren’t you?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? You’re not my friend, so why would I share something like that with you?”
Her smile vanished.
“You really are infuriating, Young Lord.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“…We should talk later, just the two of us.”
“Can I refuse?”
Her eyes twitched.
But Arthur didn’t budge.
Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Yenika sighed.
“…I’ll give you a drop of blood.”
“…”
“Two drops.”
“…”
“Three drops. No more.”
At that, Arthur turned with a bright grin.
“Where shall we talk then, Yenika?”
“….”
“I know a café. Want to go there?”
Just as her lips twitched—
the classroom door opened, and Professor Chizzy entered.
“Ah… um… Hello?”
The noisy classroom instantly fell silent.
Professor Chizzy stepped onto the platform and spoke.
“Let’s begin with roll call…”
“….”
“Afterwards, I’ll review the assignment I gave last week. Any questions?”
“No, sir,” the students chorused.
Nodding, he began calling the roll.
Once everyone was accounted for, he lifted a thick stack of papers.
“These are your graded assignments. The grades range from A to F. They were based on how well you demonstrated understanding of your essays.”
“….”
“The assignment carries heavy weight. Those who received D or below—put in more effort. Fail, and you’ll have to retake the course.”
He handed the stack to his assistant, who began distributing them.
Watching, the students gulped nervously, anticipation mixed with dread.
For the first-years, this had been the most brutal assignment yet.
“….”
Finally, when all the papers had been handed out—
gasps and groans erupted together.
“Huh?”
“What?”
“…Is this right?”
The students muttered, some exclaiming, some sighing.
As Professor Chizzy observed quietly, one student stood up.
“Professor! I have a question!”
“Yes… Speak.”
“Could you explain the grading criteria?”
“As I said… your understanding of the essay. That was the basis.”
Another student raised a hand.
“Yes…?”
“Don’t you think the standard is too vague? ‘Understanding’ is highly subjective. I think we need a clearer explanation.”
The professor nodded.
“You’re right. ‘Understanding’ *is* subjective. So then… you there, with your hand up—”
“Me?”
“Your name… Hashkal Brain, correct?”
The named student flinched, but nodded steadily.
“Yes, Professor.”
“Hashkal, you want to know how I graded, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then let me ask you about your essay. You explained the physical force of <Magical Engineering>. Tell me, what is the definition of physical force?”
Hashkal swallowed.
“Uh, in magical engineering, physical force is the power of comprehension or judgment over objects, and— the force imbued with magical engineering can be defined as—”
“Wrong.”
“…What?”
“Say it again.”
He gave another answer.
But the professor shook his head again.
Frustrated, Hashkal raised his voice.
“But, Professor! That was in the booklet you handed out—”
“Yes. It was. And that’s why it’s wrong.”
“…?”
“That was only *my* opinion. Not yours. Correct?”
Hashkal’s mouth fell open.
Professor Chizzy swept his gaze across the class.
“A \[thesis] is a piece of writing that presents *your* scholarly claim or hypothesis, in proper form, with theoretical reasoning to support it.”
“….”
“What you wrote were not your opinions… but mine. Do you dare call that a thesis?”
Silence fell.
And then he declared:
“That is why most who simply copied my booklet, or lifted lines from books, received F.”
“….”
“Those who added even a little of their own reasoning got at least D.”
At this, Arthur glanced at his paper.
Grade: A.
The very top grade, just as the professor had said.
“The only student who truly grasped my intent… received A. There was just one. Any more questions?”
The classroom was silent.
Satisfied, he turned, picked up chalk.
“Then… let’s begin the lecture.”
The scrape of pens quickly filled the room.
Spinning his pen absently, Arthur found his lips curving.
‘So I’m the only one with an A?’
He had worked hard, but he hadn’t expected a result like this.
Perhaps that was why—
for the first time in a while, a pure feeling of joy welled up inside him.
Different, somehow, from the thrill of taking down Ares Arekis—
but sweet all the same.
Just then, his eyes flicked to Yenika’s paper beside him.
“…”
Seeing the grade written there, Arthur’s eyes gleamed.
He tore a scrap from his notebook, scribbled a note, and flicked it over to her.
\[Are you stupid, Yenika? An F grade?]
Yenika’s eyes went wide.
She glared at him, then hastily scribbled back.
\[What’s *your* grade, Young Lord?]
\[A ^^]
\[So what, are you bragging?]
\[Bragging? No. Just teasing you.]
Yenika twitched, her brows drawing together as she shoved the note back—
but Arthur didn’t respond further.
Her pale cheeks flushed with heat—
just as Professor Chizzy paused the lecture and looked toward the door.
“Ah.”
“…?”
“They’ve arrived?”
His assistant whispered something in his ear.
With a sigh, the professor spoke.
“…As expected. Still a failing student… and already late on the first day.”
“…”
“Let them in.”
His assistant bowed and left.
Professor Chizzy faced the class.
“One more classmate has been added.”
“…?”
“They’re a fifth-year. But don’t feel pressured. Right now, you’re simply peers attending the same lecture.”
The students gaped.
A fifth-year?
That meant the new student was *five years older.*
And since Arcane University normally finished at fourth year if one advanced properly—
it meant this student had failed not once, but five times.
Incredulous whispers filled the room.
And then Arthur blinked.
“…Huh?”
At his small exclamation, the classroom door opened—
and a student walked in.
Seeing who it was, Arthur let out a hollow laugh.
“…Now what kind of situation is this?”
—
