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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Silverriver
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Iliad Academy’s conference room. A place typically used for discussing academy facilities and student feedback with the headmaster, it was currently filled with…
“Is this even possible?!”
…the sound of shouting.
“Two students knocked out their instructors?”
“Professor Akdin, you are in front of the Headmaster.”
At another professor’s reminder, Akdin lowered his voice slightly. However, his fury over the test results remained undiminished.
“That Adele girl, I can get my head around that. Pure physical strength and holy power to stop a sword dead in its tracks? No yielding whatsoever. How’s the instructor supposed to get past that kind of physical resilience without using his own Aura?”
Professor Akdin furrowed his brow. He always did that when he expressed strong emotions.
“But Deron? What about him? He’s sick, isn’t he? I even recall receiving a report that he coughed up blood climbing the stairs. How could anyone possibly lose to someone like that?”
He gestured towards a paper placed on the round table. It was Deron’s application form.
The contents were mostly unremarkable, except for two things: his illness and his status as the eldest son of the Philasia Dukedom.
“No, I mean, does it even make sense to admit someone who can barely control his own body to the academy? The academy’s prestige…”
“Ahem.”
Akdin’s head snapped back to attention. His rage, which wouldn’t have ceased even if every professor in the room had tried to stop him…
“Deron Philasia. I was observing his spar. No, it would be more accurate to say I observed every student’s spar.”
…vanished instantly at the Headmaster’s words.
Although they knew the Headmaster hadn’t been physically present at the sparring grounds, the professors didn’t bother to point it out.
The Headmaster was an 8th Rank Archmage, after all. Rumors suggested he was close to reaching 9th Rank, so he must have observed the spars using magic.
“What were your impressions, Headmaster?”
“Hmm, how should I explain this?”
In response to the professor’s question about Deron’s evaluation, the Headmaster stroked his beard.
He pondered for a moment, then uttered two words:
“Genius (天才) or Calamity (天災).”
“What? What does…?”
A talent bestowed by heaven, or a disaster descending from the heavens.
The professors all wore puzzled expressions. Only Akdin’s expression shifted subtly.
The Headmaster slowly rose from the round table. There was nothing more to discuss, and sitting for extended periods didn’t suit his temperament.
“It seems this year’s intake has brought many interesting students.”
Chuckling heartily, the Headmaster left the conference room.
No one dared to stop him.
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“Did I do something to the Saintess in the past?”
That was the first thought that crossed my mind after returning to my room after finishing the test.
I must have done something terribly wrong.
Otherwise, there was no reason for the Saintess to look at me with such coldness.
I closed my eyes and searched my memories, but found nothing.
Which meant that the original Deron must have done something before I possessed him.
“That Deron bastard is completely useless!”
I muttered through gritted teeth. What has the real Deron ever done for me?
The only help I’ve received is thanks to the Philastia family, not Deron himself.
All that bastard had left me were the troublesome traits of Genius and Terminally Ill.
“Haa…”
I felt like I’d been sighing a lot lately. A cigarette would be nice, but such luxuries weren’t permitted in my terminally ill life.
I considered having a drink, but I was afraid it might somehow shorten my lifespan.
I thought I might escape this terminal illness with the Saintess’s help, but… far from receiving help, I was met with only scorn and contempt.
And a few more lines were added to the already numerous rumors about me.
‘Class B would have been more than enough…’
But it was Class A.
I was certain.
I would definitely be placed in Class A.
And I would have to fight against the geniuses of Class A with this wretched body.
I already had a headache.
Well, I’d had a headache constantly anyway.
Knock, knock.
At the sound of knocking, I rose from my chair. It was probably Petra. When I said I’d go check the class assignments myself, she opposed it so strongly.
I had been confined to my room, unable to move. I still had 119 days left, so it should have been fine…
Ah.
119 days.
Had seeing a three-digit number instead of two driven me mad?
I tapped my head and opened the door.
As expected, Petra was standing outside. Judging by her bright expression, I must have been assigned to Class A.
“Young Master, congratulations on Class A!”
She entered, and I immediately closed the door. Petra carefully embraced me.
The way she patted my back felt a little awkward.
The original Deron would have pushed her away, but I wasn’t Deron.
She was happy for me, so I should accept it.
I slowly hugged her back. It was a bit embarrassing, but the warmth spreading through my cold body wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
After a moment, Petra gently released the hug. Her eyes were filled with surprise.
She seemed genuinely astonished that Deron had accepted her hug.
“Y-Young Master… accepted my hug…”
Petra even started to cry. I thought she was overreacting to a simple hug, but considering the time Petra had spent by Deron’s side…
‘They were practically childhood friends.’
Since childhood, back when the real Deron hadn’t yet grasped the meaning of being terminally ill, Petra had been the one attending to him, even as he forced down elixirs and struggled with his poor health.
She continued her knight training while also serving Deron.
‘But Deron’s personality became harsh because of his illness.’
Instead of hugs, she must have received only angry rebukes
That’s why she was crying now, because I hadn’t gotten angry.
“Petra, I have a question.”
“Yes, ask me anything. I’ll answer whatever I can.”
“That elixir… What is it, exactly? How did you get something like that?”
A Black Dragon. A dragon’s core, no less. It was worth hundreds, if not thousands or tens of thousands.
Considering the value of a wild ginseng hidden for a hundred years, its effects were unbelievable.
The fact that a mere fragment granted 200 days and a trait was proof enough.
“Ah… that…”
Petra hesitated, which was unusual for her. Where had her earlier confidence gone?
“Is it a difficult question to answer?”
I stared intently at her. Childhood friends. That’s probably how Petra saw us.
If she was hesitating this much with me, it likely meant some kind of contract or strict oath was involved. I didn’t want to know the source of the Black Dragon’s core fragment if it meant Petra breaking a promise.
Petra nodded in response to my question.
“Then, I won’t ask.”
“Young Master! I…”
“But promise me you’ll tell me someday.”
It was a bit cheesy, but it was better to postpone the answer for now. I looked forward to the day she would tell me her secret.
“…Alright.”
“Good. Now go. Classes start tomorrow, so I need to rest.”
“Yes, please rest well.”
After dismissing Petra, I threw myself onto the bed. A groan escaped my lips.
“Ugh, pretending to be oblivious is hard work.”
Outside the door, I could sense someone emitting faint killing intent, though I didn’t know how they’d gotten there. I purposely ignored it and didn’t listen to Petra’s answer.
“She might have answered if I had pressed her.”
There was no way Petra hadn’t noticed the presence I sensed. She had hesitated to answer even though she knew there was a colleague or senior outside the door.
I might have learned their identity if I had waited, but… I didn’t want Petra to die.
This wasn’t for me, but for Petra. She had trained relentlessly to become a knight, all for the sake of a terminally ill young master who was about to die.
If she died just for revealing some information… it would make all her efforts meaningless.
“That can’t happen.”
I liked seeing people’s efforts rewarded.
That was the reason I was so angry about the massacre plot. The way the hero’s party, who had struggled and trained at the academy, were suddenly wiped out…
Wasn’t that a dismissal of all their efforts?
The more I thought about it, the angrier I got, so I took a moment to curse the original author.
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“Whew… that was close.”
Petra muttered as she left the Trea Dormitory and headed towards the dormitory for staff. If Deron had pressed her for an answer again, she would have had to tell him.
“You held up well.”
“The killing intent was timed perfectly. It made it easier to have something else to focus on. It’s really hard to endure otherwise.”
A man in a black hood appeared behind Petra. He looked every bit the assassin, but Petra wasn’t fazed at all.
In fact, she spoke to him casually, as if she had been expecting him.
“So? Does he seem to be enduring better than before?”
“Yes, his acting has improved significantly. It will be much easier to administer the elixirs now.”
“Right?”
Petra smiled brightly. Then, she put on the robe the hooded man offered her.
It was time for her to shed the persona of Petra, Deron Philasia’s maid…
And return to being Petra, Master of the Empire’s top intelligence agency,
A full moon hung in the sky, and Petra and the man disappeared into the shadows of the moon.
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The original author killed off the Hero’s party during the massacre plot? I wonder how the plot progressed after that happened.
Deron and Adele are most likely childhood friends. I’m going to guess that due to his illness he lashed out at her in the worst way possible which then caused her to resent him.