Chapter 10: A Happy Break (1)
The gentle demeanor Baek Hoyeon had shown in the shelter was gone without a trace.
Her gaze, now brimming with hostility and venom, was fixed on me.
The moment she recognized me, her expression seemed to relax slightly, but that wasn’t the most pressing issue—the real concern was that she had left Professor Georg’s class.
How did she manage that?
Did she know the mana breathing technique? That seemed plausible.
Children of central nobility or royalty often learned either magic or mana breathing techniques.
It wasn’t particularly surprising for someone like her, a princess, to have mastered the latter.
Compared to magic, which relies solely on talent, mana breathing might be a better option despite requiring significant investment of time and money.
But then, did mana breathing techniques even exist on the Eastern Continent?
No, they didn’t. In the original story, there was no mention of mana-related practices.
To be sure, I reviewed the settings for the Eastern Continent in my mind.
The area was described as a chaotic region, lacking divine power to suppress magical creatures. If you ventured to the back of a village, it wouldn’t be uncommon to find A-class monsters roaming freely.
Mana, crucial for either opposing such monsters or wielding magic, was almost nonexistent.
It was a wonder how people managed to survive in such an environment.
Yet, they thrived enough to prepare for invasion wars. Even the most minor foot soldiers were beastkin, possessing strength rivaling or surpassing mana breathing users.
Looking at it now, isn’t this balance irreparably broken?
The imbalance was glaring, but pondering over it further wouldn’t yield solutions.
Besides, unless I succeeded in forming bonds with the heroines, such concerns were meaningless.
For now, my focus should be on aligning events with the original plot and improving my combat skills.
Reassessing Baek Hoyeon, I noted she didn’t seem reliant on mana breathing or magic to accomplish what she had.
Maybe she just relied on raw strength because she’s beastkin. Whether here or on the Eastern Continent, beastkin were consistently described as having absurd physical capabilities, which made more sense.
Whatever the truth, she remained dangerous to approach.
The incident with Anastasia at lunch was proof enough. If possible, it was best to exclude her from the story entirely.
She seemed to show me some form of goodwill, but basing any action on such uncertain feelings was too risky.
If I handled her well, I could potentially erase the incidents from the second arc entirely.
However, a single mistake could hasten disaster. I’d rather tread carefully with assured results than gamble with the fate of the continent.
“Ah, so it’s you. Were you lost or something?”
Unaware of my thoughts, Baek Hoyeon greeted me nonchalantly.
Though she still exuded a black aura of sorts, her words lacked any malice or hostility.
There was no need to reveal what she’d been up to, so I responded lightly.
“Yes, the paths are rather complicated.”
“Hmm. So, it’s not just me then. I see, I’m not the only one who got lost.”
I had assumed she confidently strode off to the gymnasium, but apparently, she hadn’t even known where it was.
At this point, shouldn’t the academy provide campus maps?
I had preemptively memorized the layout, so I knew where everything was.
But if the original Iris, Baek Hoyeon, and several other students frequently got lost, then the issue clearly wasn’t just individual clumsiness.
Seeing her smile softly for some reason made my heart waver slightly.
Could I… No, maybe it’s possible to win her over.
“By the way, have you eaten any bread?”
She’s still thinking about that? I’d pegged her as someone indifferent to others, but apparently, she had a surprisingly attentive side.
Her earlier clash with Anya now seemed even more puzzling.
I hadn’t known her long, but she struck me as rather unpredictable.
Unstable people were always more difficult to deal with. Realizing that, I managed to steady my heart. People like her were better left alone. They were usually in trouble.
“Yes, thanks to you, I had a hearty meal.”
There was no need to mention that it hadn’t even been filling. I simply gave the answer she seemed to expect. Whether it was her beastkin nature or not, her emotions were plain to see.
She raised her tail stiffly………I want to believe that’s a sign of happiness, but wasn’t her tail up like that when she talked to Anya, too?
That left me with two possibilities. Either she had been just as pleased while exuding killing intent at Anya, or she was masking her true feelings, both then and now, for reasons unknown.
Either way, getting closer to her remained perilous.
***
Hearing that he’d enjoyed the bread I gave him made me oddly happy. He hadn’t said it was delicious, but “filling” meant close enough.
I remembered when I once told a friend I’d treat them to a meal.
They’d laughed, saying, “I wouldn’t even eat steak if you were paying.” Since then, I had mostly stopped offering, and it felt strange to be on the giving end now.
Back then, I’d told them not to steal drinks from my fridge if they weren’t going to accept my food.
But they’d replied, “That’s different,” and continued as if it were normal. Annoying as they were, they had been my only real conversation partner.
When I got into university, they’d mocked me for going somewhere “exactly like you would.” I couldn’t tell if it was an insult or a backhanded compliment, but thinking of them now felt oddly nostalgic.
Anyway, I couldn’t keep holding up someone who was already late.
While I was sure the professor would be lenient, that didn’t make tardiness acceptable.
“Well, if you’ve eaten your fill, that’s good. I’ve held you up long enough. Go on; you’re already late.”
Just as I thought the conversation was over, Han Dogeon called out again.
“Your Highness, may I ask you something?”
“Your Highness? Just use my name. Humbling oneself is admirable, but aren’t we all just students here?”
Overly polite treatment felt out of place this far from home. And coming from the protagonist, it was even stranger.
Thinking about how courteous he was now, compared to how brazen he’d be in private later, was jarring.
“…Then, Hoyeon?”
Nope, nope, nope. Too much.
“That feels… a little too casual, doesn’t it?”
Even as I spoke, I felt inconsistent. Hearing my name spoken so casually by a man stirred my blood in ways I couldn’t explain. I wasn’t sure why, but it left a strange impression.
“Then I’ll call you Hoyeon-nim.”
“That’s acceptable.”
“Yes, Hoyeon-nim. Then, may I ask… during class, did the professor insult or reprimand you in any way?”
Though still formal, his tone struck a balance. However, the question was odd. As if Professor Georg would ever do such a thing.
“I don’t know why you’re asking, but no. Nothing of the sort.”
“That’s a relief… He’s notorious for his temper. There are stories of him knocking out the Imperial Crown Prince for insolence. I was worried something similar might happen.”
Why are you worried about me? What a strange man.
And the Crown Prince? That had to be an exaggeration. Though the professor’s teaching could be rough, he was a kind man despite his fearsome appearance. Such rumors were likely the work of spiteful nobles who had faced his discipline.
Nobility was always shrouded in toxic gossip. The professor had probably punished some wayward aristocrat, only for them to twist the story in retaliation. Stories always grew as they spread, after all.
Still, knocking out the Crown Prince? That was pushing it.
“…I’m not sure why you’re so concerned, but thank you.”
Rejecting someone’s concern outright felt unnecessarily cruel. Though Dogeon’s expression momentarily wavered, he soon gave a polite farewell and headed toward the gymnasium.
Ah, right. I meant to ask him about the library’s location. How foolish of me.
Then again, considering how he’d wandered aimlessly all through the fourth period, he might not have been much help.
However, from earlier, I’d been feeling an unfamiliar gaze on me. It wasn’t the overwhelming pressure from Geum Taeyang’s challenges. This was more insidious, like a street preacher sizing up potential marks.
The feeling had persisted since my conversation with Dogeon. I’d dismissed it, thinking it would fade, but the gaze lingered.
Anxiously, I glanced around. Nothing but rustling leaves and empty pathways. Still, I was certain someone was watching me. Summoning courage, I called out in a quiet voice, afraid to draw attention.
“…Show yourself.”
No one answered. Perhaps I’d imagined it in my exhaustion. Feeling foolish, I sighed and resumed walking.
“…I didn’t expect you to actually notice me.”
There was someone there.
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