Chapter 25
After the meeting, I headed straight to the dorm.
‘I tried to keep it short, but I stayed too long.’
It felt like I was in Leodimir’s office for about 30 minutes.
Too long for a first meeting between the second-place scorer and the dean.
‘Perfect for freshmen to gossip that the Kirhausen Tail is already getting the dean’s attention.’
But I wasn’t worried about their whispers.
‘I hope Marcel doesn’t get suspicious.’
I relaxed my expression to hide any change and hurried to the dorm room.
As I opened the door—
“Oh.”
I bumped into someone opening it from the inside.
“Whoops.”
A tall boy steadied me as I stumbled.
Wearing the same academy uniform but with a mature air, I recognized him instantly.
‘Dalton Kirhausen.’
Introduced as the student council president at the ceremony’s end.
And Marcel’s cousin, the nephew Furas most guarded against.
I bowed to Dalton, who looked at me silently.
He gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile before brushing past me.
‘Was he here to greet the heir?’
I watched his retreating figure before entering the room.
As I stepped in—
“Your meeting with the dean was quite long.”
Marcel’s voice, sharper than usual, greeted me.
He was staring out the window, his discomfort evident even in his back.
“Yes, Young Master. The dean asked about the plaza incident.”
“…Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“…”
Marcel’s cryptic response brought an uneasy silence to the room.
I knew what his unspoken words implied.
But I had no intention of engaging with his probing silence about whether I discussed anything special with the dean.
‘I’m not sure yet how he views me.’
At my firm reply, Marcel didn’t press further about the meeting.
Instead, he changed the subject.
“You must have met him on your way in, but there are other Kirhausens at the academy besides us.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“But they’re all branch members. Remember, you follow only my orders.”
“…”
“Understood?”
“Yes, Young Master.”
…
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Partly because it was the first night of my second life with a reliable ally.
Rustle—
But mostly because of the nocturnal visitor Leodimir sent to my dorm room.
I quietly rose from bed, muffling my steps, and approached the window.
I gazed at a small bird flying toward me in the dark night sky.
As it neared, its intricately folded body unfolded, revealing a white paper.
Rustle—
The thin paper slipped through the window crack into my hand.
It was Leodimir’s letter.
I returned to bed and carefully read its contents.
It detailed the current situation I needed to know.
According to it—
‘Among the students, two are Kirhausen branch members: sixth-year Dalton Kirhausen and fifth-year Aisa Kirhausen.’
Siblings, children of Furas' older brother, Timus Kirhausen.
‘No wonder Marcel’s so touchy.’
The letter also listed academy figures I should watch or beware of.
Those aligned with Kirhausen or Dickens factions.
And those from influential imperial families, though unrelated to them.
I memorized each name, storing them in my mind.
‘Leo’s intelligence as dean is a huge help.’
I smiled, grateful for my reliable ally.
But—
“…”
My smile faded as I read the next line, starting with ‘Palamedes.’
According to Leodimir, after Edmund’s death, the usurping Ivan family cut all support for Palamedes.
Worse, they allied with the Mage Council, who saw Palamedes as a threat, to pressure its dissolution.
Without Edmund as its core, the organization couldn’t withstand it.
Members active in the magical world stepped down or went into hiding, and Kirhausen relentlessly tracked and monitored them.
‘As expected.’
But there was hope.
Though disbanded, some of Edmund’s disciples were still in contact with Leodimir.
Some Palamedes members were among the academy faculty.
“Macloren… Yuria…”
I softly repeated the names of my old disciples.
Just seeing their names steadied my heart.
The letter continued, detailing Kirhausen’s moves to check Leodimir.
‘As expected. To suppress Palamedes remnants, Kirhausen allied with academy senior professors and the Mage Council.’
This, too, was anticipated.
I mentally mapped the current magical world’s power structure, reading the letter’s final part.
[On the day of the attack on Lord Damian and Lady Maureen, thanks to Jasper, Young Master Noah escaped and survived. But his whereabouts remain unknown.]
“…”
I closed my eyes to swallow the surge of emotions.
“Hoo…”
Opening them slowly, I reread the part about Noah.
My fingers traced his name repeatedly, steadying my sinking heart.
‘Yes. If it’s Jasper, he’d have kept Noah safe.’
Jasper Londrian, one of the few I trusted completely, my lawyer.
That he escaped with Noah was hopeful news.
His whereabouts being unknown after 30 years made sense with Jasper.
As the last hope to turn things around, Jasper wouldn’t take risks lightly.
‘Yes. With his mind, he’d have protected Noah well.’
I had to weigh hope over despair now.
I looked at Noah’s name one last time before quietly crumpling the letter.
Whoosh—
A silent flame flared in my hand, burning the letter to ashes instantly.
***
The next day—
Freshmen headed to their first classes at the academy.
The first lessons at the empire’s premier magical academy.
The students gathered in the classroom, tense yet excited, awaiting the professor.
“It’s the first class, so it’ll end early, right?”
“I hope it’s just introductions and done.”
“I’d like to swing my wand at least once.”
But their expectations were quickly betrayed.
“Greetings, everyone. Open your textbooks to page 13.”
The first class was a theory lecture by an elderly professor with a thick book, not a wand.
“There are five types of mana users…”
The freshmen were plunged into the academic world from the start.
But this was just the beginning.
The subsequent classes were also theory-heavy.
“According to the magical world’s ethical code…”
“The first recorded use of magic in history…”
Three consecutive, content-heavy lectures by senior professors left the students exhausted.
Some dozed off listlessly.
Others tried to stay awake with distractions.
A few held on with exceptional focus and will.
The top and bottom academic performers among the freshmen were already evident.
And I felt the most intense boredom among them.
‘This is torture.’
I moved my stiff neck to ease my aching body.
Despite my past life’s achievements, I was never a diligent student.
Theory classes, even with engaging professors, were hard to endure.
And this life’s classes were especially dull for a reason.
‘Why are senior professors teaching back-to-back first-year theory classes? How much focus do they expect from 14-year-olds…?’
I propped my chin, feigning focus, lost in thought.
The inefficient faculty assignments compared to my past life were baffling.
“Hoo…”
I stifled a yawn with a small sigh.
I glanced at Marcel, quietly turning pages beside me.
Rustle, rustle—
As expected, Marcel was the epitome of a studious scholar.
The only sounds from him during the three classes were pages turning and his pen scratching notes.
Besides Marcel, other students caught my eye.
‘The commoners.’
Among the eleven commoners seated at the back, none were dozing or distracted.
They huddled together, determined not to miss a word.
But their zeal wasn’t just academic.
‘They need high grades for scholarships to cover tuition.’
I stretched lightly, turning to take in the classroom’s rear.
In front of the commoners, Alexein’s group had books propped up, dozing.
Ahead of them were upper-class students like Jeremy Conwell, already bored.
It was mostly as expected.
But some sights were surprising.
‘Ho…’
Alexein, looking disdainfully at his sleeping followers, focused on the lecture.
And Derrick Jenkins, diligently taking notes.
‘Derrick, with his Mage Council grandfather’s backing, got in despite that incident. He must want to prove himself with grades.’
But Alexein’s focus was unexpected.
‘Maybe he’s not entirely the fool he seemed during the exam.’
The dignity of House Dickens, a family of renowned magical scholars, was slightly less tarnished, and I felt a bit relieved.
“…That’s all for today.”
As I observed, the mustached senior professor ended the third class.
The students looked relieved at the end of the grueling lessons.
But—
“For the next class, prepare up to page 39, the section on ancient magic types.”
At the professor’s words, they groaned, rolling their eyes.
I grimaced along with them.
…
Moving to the next class, the freshmen were utterly drained.
Yawning, they complained about the boredom.
“Ugh, I’m dying. Three theory classes in a row for the first day?”
“Do we have to endure this awful schedule for a whole year? I can’t do it.”
“Who’s the next sleep-inducing professor?”
“But the next class is practical. Maybe it’ll be better?”
After battling sleep for three hours, their energy was depleted.
Even Marcel and Joy, who hadn’t wavered, rubbed their tired eyes.
Chatting and yawning, they reached the next classroom.
With weary faces, they opened the door, expecting another dull lecture.
But what greeted them was—
“What… is this?”
Not a classroom with desks and chairs, but a bizarre, unprecedented sight.