The Protagonists’ Teacher Wants to Quit
Chapter : 46
24. An Undesirable Family Tradition
Klein gave a dry smile.
Seeing that hollow laugh that didn’t suit a thirteen-year-old, Lucien lightly bit her tongue.
“So there really is no option that doesn’t end in regret.”
“I’m sorry, but that option disappeared the moment you caused trouble, Klein.”
Once the reins came loose, Lucien’s mouth showed no mercy.
The boy laughed soundlessly.
“So there’s no goodwill, no consideration, not even basic kindness? From a teacher, no less.”
“I’ll think about that once you start behaving with the manners expected of a student. So—are you going to talk, or not?”
Lucien, who was seriously angry at a child and was beginning to feel a deep sense of self-disgust over her own immaturity, demanded sharply.
“Give it to me.”
Klein held out his hand.
Lucien handed him a pen that had been placed on the desk, instead of the one she had broken earlier.
“…!”
And then Klein noticed it—the cut on the inside of her third finger, sliced by the sharp pen tip.
An oddly heavy feeling settled in his chest.
Even though it was he himself who had wished for the other person to be hurt, somehow.
He hesitated for a long while, but the words of apology caught in his throat and never came out.
Unaware that he would soon come to regret this as well.
* * *
The capital of the Empire, Ileta—the largest and most splendid city—was also famous as a city where the lights never went out.
Aside from the Mage Tower and the Academy, it consumed a massive portion of the magic stones circulating on the market, so it was only natural.
And wherever there was such bright light, equally dark shadows followed. As a result, even the guard tacitly avoided meddling in Ileta’s back alleys.
“So that’s what this place is like. Not somewhere a young lady should be visiting for fun.”
“Is there really a place worth coming to just for fun?”
“Of course there is. If you head out just four blocks that way, every other building is a tailor’s shop or a jewelry store.”
“Maybe I should’ve sold the jewels over there.”
“Hey now, I meant you should come visit more often.”
A woman who looked suspicious to anyone, with her hood pulled low even in broad daylight, rested her chin in her hand as if tired of the man’s jokes.
Curly ginger-brown hair slipped out from beneath the hood.
“So, are you done with that tedious cross-verification?”
“How would a low-ranking guy like me know? I’ll find out when the Master tells me.”
The woman silently stirred her drink with a straw.
Yeah, right. You’re the Master yourself.
But she couldn’t show it. In a deal where the side that extracts even a little more value wins, revealing all your cards was stupidity.
If I’m careless, my identity could be exposed.
The woman—Cordelia Arce—absently touched the sword at her side.
The wig brushing against her cheek was incredibly irritating.
“This was a waste of time. I’m leaving.”
“Don’t be like that. We even closed the reception desk because we were hosting a VIP.”
“Wasn’t it because it’d interfere with keeping my identity secret?”
“To be precise, we’re debating whether we should shut down the business altogether. Thanks to you, miss.”
The man covered a bitter smile.
It sounded like a joke, but he meant it. This was supposed to be Ileta’s top information guild, yet they’d been stripped bare by this mysterious woman.
Cordelia subtly avoided his gaze.
Where her eyes landed, a wall ornament engraved with a raven emblem gleamed faintly.
To deal with Colette—who has not only the Arce family but even the temple backing her—I don’t have a choice.
Cordelia’s strongest weapon was information about the future.
Even though she had returned to the past, it hadn’t even been three full years yet, so she couldn’t know much beyond that point.
But I don’t need to know more than that anyway.
Judging by the circumstances of her own death, whether sooner or later, the Empire was doomed.
Not long after she was framed and imprisoned, war with the demon race broke out.
The only news that ever reached the prison spoke of nothing but worsening conditions.
And then I heard that Teacher Lucien had died.
The one who told her that news was Colette.
She still vividly remembered her face—how she couldn’t even hide her sneer as she spoke of the death of the only person who had insisted on Cordelia’s innocence.
‘That woman’s dead, sister. Mana backlash or something. Isn’t it funny? Who did she think she was? If she’d just stayed put, she might’ve lived a little longer. She couldn’t tell where she belonged, always sticking her nose where it didn’t belong—so that’s what happens.’
Cordelia needed to hear only that to understand.
Teacher Lucien had died saving someone again.
Just as she had once saved Cordelia.
The war will happen anyway, and I can’t stop that itself. But if I can find out what the real prophecy is before then, everyone can survive.
At this point, the weapon Cordelia needed most was information.
Specifically, the existence of the “true prophecy” she had learned about by chance before her death.
The sudden appearance of a so-called saintess candidate was likewise worth digging into.
If Beatrice—that girl—is the real one, then we have a chance.
Cordelia had completely abandoned any desire to be loved by the Duke and Duchess of Arce.
It had never been hers to begin with—she had only been greedy.
Instead, she decided to fight the people she had once wanted as family—and their daughter.
“Tell the Master not to keep me waiting too long. This isn’t the only information guild in town.”
Even if it meant using methods that were a bit immoral and underhanded—like swallowing up someone else’s business.
* * *
In the reception room of the Munster Ducal Estate, two people sat facing each other across a marble table.
One was a man dressed entirely in black—from his slicked-back hair exposing his forehead to his elegant attire.
The other was a woman who, in contrast, was pale from head to toe.
The pale woman thought to herself:
Is there some imperial law I don’t know about that says only black-haired people can become dukes?
Lucien, who had ended up meeting all three dukes of the Empire and even one grand duke face-to-face regardless of her own intentions, lined the four of them up in her mind.
Setting aside their personalities, visually they were all overwhelmingly dark and ominous.
Meanwhile, the man in black had thoughts of his own.
I even skipped the regular counseling sessions, yet we end up meeting like this anyway.
The Duke of Munster found it uncomfortable dealing with women—and even more uncomfortable dealing with teachers.
Facing someone who was both was extremely uncomfortable.
At least it was a relief that she bore no resemblance whatsoever to that woman.
He formed a smile that was polite and nothing more.
“You said you had something to say regarding Klein.”
Across from him, Klein’s academy homeroom teacher returned what was clearly an equally formal smile.
“Thank you for making time despite your busy schedule.”
Her demeanor was impeccable.
She wasn’t even an etiquette instructor—she taught magic, he had heard—but every posture and gesture of hers was textbook-perfect.
Probably because it had been ingrained in her for her entire life.
Then why does it irritate me?
The Duke of Munster faintly furrowed his brow, so slightly it barely showed.
More precisely, that extremely businesslike attitude felt strangely unfamiliar.
Though she was sitting here as a teacher now, Lucien Philonia was a noble lady not much younger than him.
She must have received goodwill, affection, admiration, reverence—those familiar, tiring, yet in some ways expected emotions—from nobles of similar status.
Yet in her dry gaze, he couldn’t sense even a trace of human warmth.
If anything, there seemed to be a cold gleam in her clear gray-blue eyes.
“You’ve likely already heard about this incident from Klein. I’d like to explain some additional details you should know, as well as the procedures going forward.”
“Additional details?”
“According to Klein’s statement—”
“Wait.”
The Duke of Munster raised a hand, cutting Lucien off.
Lucien met his gaze without changing her expression.
“Are you saying Klein gave a statement to you? He didn’t even say anything to me.”
“If you’d like, I can show—”
“You didn’t coerce him, did you?”
“……”
“I am well aware that Noctua’s teachers are authoritarian and dogmatic.”
Lucien did her utmost to keep the corners of her mouth from drooping.
Is turning people into trash based on wild assumptions this family’s tradition?
