Chapter : 50
27. Like Homeroom Teacher, Like Student
While Cordelia and Beatrice were each privately suspecting the other, the poetry and literature teacher—who had been poring over the newly submitted answer sheets with his nose practically buried in them—raised both hands.
“I failed to recognize true talent. My apologies. Would the two of you be interested in studying literature more deeply? This is a collection our academic society published recently—”
“Professor Ratt! You need to give us a turn too!”
The teachers from other subjects, who had been waiting impatiently, lit up with anticipation.
“Miss Arche, of course your family must already be providing you with an excellent education, but this could be a chance to broaden your intellectual horizons—”
“Student Beatrice, these days, motivated students start choosing their research divisions as early as their first year. As you know, history is closely tied to theology, so even as a future Saint—”
…Was this really helpful?
As the two students were subjected to an intensity of academic enthusiasm they had never experienced in either their past or present lives, someone finally voiced a doubt.
“I know they’re both outstanding, but does this really make sense? There are still exams left, but perfect scores in every subject…?”
It was the young music theory teacher.
He scanned the room with a visibly disillusioned expression.
He couldn’t believe the very people who had written exams notorious enough to earn comments like ‘What’s wrong with their personalities?’ were acting like this.
What about Noctua’s infamous reputation?
What about the midterms so brutal they were jokingly called the Forget-Me-Not Curse?
And on top of that—one was the infamous villainess of the Arche family, and the other a Saint candidate from a commoner background?!
“Am I the only one who thinks this is strange?”
The literature professor, who shared his doubts, shrugged.
“They even took a retest, and the results were flawless. What can we do? It’s not unprecedented.”
“Not unprecedented?”
All the teachers in the room turned their eyes toward a single point.
“There’s one right there. The unfortunate prodigy who scored full marks every time he actually took an exam.”
Beatrice and Cordelia followed their gazes.
‘Professor Lucien?’
They’d heard rumors that he had graduated at the top of his class, but this was the first time they’d heard anything about being “unfortunate.”
“If you always got perfect scores, why ‘unfortunate’…?”
Lucien, the subject of the conversation, replied blandly.
“Because although it was perfect when I took exams, there were many times I didn’t. An absence is a zero, after all.”
“Your transcript really was extreme. I’ve never seen anything like it in my entire teaching career.”
Zero or one hundred.
A terrifyingly unbalanced record.
Rendered speechless, the music theory teacher stared at Lucien and the students as though he were looking at something uncanny.
Lucien, too, was relieved that no cheating had been involved—but the unease didn’t fade.
‘Cordelia, I can chalk up to early education. But Beatrice…?’
Dismissing it as simple diligence—or sheer genius—felt unsatisfying.
This incident seemed likely to end as a mere happening, yet Lucien had the distinct sense that something far larger was slipping past unnoticed.
Tucking that suspicion into a corner of his mind, he approached the students—who were on the verge of being “abducted” by faculty enthusiasm.
“Anyway, teachers, please stop trying to lure innocent undergraduates and calm yourselves.”
“No, no, we’re just trying to pave the road ahead for them! Isn’t guiding students down a well-prepared flower path a teacher’s duty?”
“Exactly. Professor Lucien, you were the same as a freshman, weren’t you? Professor Helena nurtured you so well—urk!!”
Crunch!
The oblivious teacher was stomped on by colleagues on both sides and collapsed with a strangled groan.
Lucien, meanwhile, simply shook his head calmly.
“Miss Cordelia, Miss Beatrice, there’s no rush to decide on your future path. You can start thinking about it next year. Gain more experiences first, then decide after careful consideration.”
The two students—who had already experienced far more than most people and had long since settled their futures—laughed awkwardly.
Their eyes met as they noticed each other’s strained smiles.
One advantage—and disadvantage—of being roommates was that, at least once a day, they were inevitably left alone together.
* * *
Dessert? Forget it. The exam period—exhausting several times over—was finally over.
After stopping by the foundational faculty and the academy to handle the backlog of errands, Lucien walked with a buoyant step.
Since it was rare to see her energetic at Noctua—outside of her “I want to quit” mode and “I hope everything burns” mode—passersby couldn’t help asking.
“Something good happen?”
“Oh, something very good.”
Lucien smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling more than usual.
Once she passed, colleagues whispered among themselves.
“Did you see that? I’ve never seen her look like that.”
“Is she getting promoted?”
“Is that really a good thing?”
“Of course it is. Even when she says she hates it, she works harder than anyone.”
“True. Even the dean assigns work based on people’s abilities. She’s the only one who doesn’t realize it.”
Regardless, Lucien had been counting down the days to today.
Finally!
The walking painkiller—no, Chester—was coming!
After the previous incident, Lucien had scoured Noctua’s libraries and research archives for similar cases.
‘Interaction between dissimilar mana types!’
If opposing types collided improperly, the damage could be severe—but she and Chester were a rare case of mutually beneficial symbiosis.
That Chester possessed mana strong enough to have an effect through mere contact, despite not being a mage, was also an incredibly fortunate anomaly.
In any case, while it was welcome news for her, it wasn’t something others would be happy to hear about, so they agreed to meet in Chester’s private room—a place no one in Noctua ever visited.
‘When his appointment ends, I should ask for that room.’
When Lucien arrived at the lab she’d already mentally claimed—despite the current owner not having left yet—she found Chester loitering in front of the door.
“Duke? Why aren’t you going in?”
“Lucien.”
Chester greeted her with his usual expressionless face.
At this point, Lucien felt she could read his expressions even when he had none—at least when it came to him.
“It’s been a while.”
“About two weeks, right? But… do you have some important engagement today?”
She asked him the same question she’d been hearing all day.
Normally, he was clad in dark, heavy, fully armed attire—but not today.
He was still well-covered, but instead of the cloak he usually wore like armor, a formal coat rested on his shoulders.
The chains and buttons gleamed silver-gray, and there was even a brooch she’d never seen before.
His dark uniform featured delicate embroidery, patterns, and lace at the collar and cuffs—completely changing his usual atmosphere.
With his hair neatly swept back, and the dark circles under his eyes lighter than usual, his face looked brighter, too.
Anyone would think he was loudly announcing with his entire appearance that he had an important appointment today.
Yet Chester regarded her with mild confusion before shaking his head.
“No. I don’t. Other than meeting you.”
No classes. No other engagements.
Seeing him dressed more splendidly than he would for an imperial banquet—just to meet her—made Lucien feel strangely unsettled.
“Please, go in first.”
Since Chester opened the door first, Lucien lowered the hand she’d raised to do so.
Click. The door closed behind them.
Perhaps because he rarely used the room, little had changed since the day she first showed it to him.
There were only two differences.
One was an open window, likely for ventilation.
The other was a red flower placed on the table.
‘A rose?’
She was reminded of a scene she’d glimpsed when she visited the Rosanacht estate two weeks earlier.
Perplexed by the odd pairing of freshly cut flowers in an otherwise sterile, scentless room, Lucien took her seat.
Chester returned to sit across from her—and, as though presenting approval documents, carefully extended the bouquet.
“I haven’t been able to send my guest away yet. I won’t be able to keep my promise to invite you for a while, so instead…”
Lucien briefly debated whether she should ask what an invitation had to do with flowers.
‘Usually, the invited person brings the gift, don’t they?’
And leaving that aside—between a man and a woman—
‘…No, with him, it might not mean anything.’
Misreading her expression, Chester hurriedly added,
“You seemed to like the garden that day. If you’d rather not—”
“Give it to me.”
Lucien took the bouquet from Chester’s hands—just moments before it met its untimely end.
