After his morning run, Moen returned to the dormitory.

At this time, the entire dormitory area seemed to wake up, as noisy voices began to rise continuously.

Moen entered his room and took a cold shower.

The cold water stimulated his skin, washing away the sweat and invigorating his spirit at the same time.

After finishing the shower, Moen looked at his refreshed reflection in the mirror, stroked his chin, and marveled,

“Hmm, perfect.”

“Still the same handsome.”

Though one’s appearance is difficult to change in a short period of time, Moen believed that a shift in mental outlook could still alter others’ perceptions of him, however slightly.

He needed to quickly change the impression people had of him—otherwise, every time they saw him, they would have the same stunned, "Is this guy possessed by a dark god?" expression. It was really tiresome.

...

Auditorium.

The opening ceremony was about to begin.

Moen arrived a few minutes early, followed the directions, and headed to the section designated for second-year students.

About half the seats were already filled.

Moen picked a relatively empty spot and sat down.

In the original book, Moen Campbell, due to his status and personality, had few good relationships within the academy aside from those "cronies" of his.

So now, naturally, no one greeted him.

Yet Moen could feel numerous gazes fixed on him. Those curious looks felt like people staring at a rare panda.

"Strange."

Moen glanced around. Many students quickly diverted their eyes as he turned towards them, but he could still sense the lingering gazes sticking to him like stubborn glue, refusing to be shrugged off.

“While I may be somewhat of a celebrity in the academy, I shouldn’t attract this much attention, right?”

“Could it be... that my apology yesterday worked?”

Moen clapped his hands in realization.

It seemed news about his apology to Ariel had spread.

“So... these stares are from people curious about whether I’ve truly turned over a new leaf?”

“If that’s the case, I should definitely put on a display.”

“This is a golden opportunity to improve my image—no way am I letting it slip by.”

Delighted, Moen straightened his back, flashed a smile he believed to be perfect, and exuded an air of confidence.

With his naturally strikingly handsome face, his charm was instantly amplified. Several first-year girls noticed him and let out small squeals of admiration.

But in other sections...

“Oh no, Moen Campbell is looking over here! Quick, avert your gaze...”

“Wait, he smiled. Did he just smile at me? Oh no, does he fancy me?”

“No, no, no! I absolutely don’t want to be part of his thirteen-fling scenario—I'll be sunk by that invincible battleship!”

Such whispers of gossip circulated among the girls.

Sadly, Moen was too far away to hear any of this.

And nearer to those gossiping girls...

“Damn it! Those annoying brats—who are they calling an invincible battleship?”

Hearing these remarks, Ariel was furious, her teeth gnashing. She seemed on the brink of charging over to tear those gossip-loving girls apart.

“Don’t! Ariel, calm down! This is the auditorium. Causing trouble here will be disastrous.”

Lea clung tightly to Ariel’s waist, trying desperately to stop her.

“And besides, just because your chest is a little flat, a little firm, and your combat prowess is off the charts, doesn’t mean the battleship thing was referring to you!”

“Lea.”

“Hmm? Yes?”

“Whose side are you even on, you impudent brat?”

“Ahh no, Ariel! Don’t scratch me! The ceremony is starting—haha—the ceremony is starting!”

Bzzz—

The sharp static of a magical amplifier interrupted the girls’ playful commotion.

On the large stage of the auditorium, a pink bear-shaped mascot clapped its paws together and tentatively spoke into a magical amplifier,

“Hello, hello—can you hear me? Can you hear me? Oh good, it seems you can.”

"Huh?"

Moen also raised his head, looking toward the stage at the oddly out-of-place, comical Pink Bear mascot.

“Is it hired to liven up the atmosphere?”

Bringing in someone in a mascot suit to lift spirits at an opening ceremony—it seemed the higher-ups at the academy weren’t as rigid as Moen had imagined.

“Now then... could I kindly ask all students to return to their proper seats and sit quietly?”

The Pink Bear mascot spoke in a languid voice that resembled a middle-aged man on the brink of unemployment. Yet as the sound spread across the auditorium, an invisible force seemed to take effect, compelling every student to instinctively return to their seats, and the massive hall, which could hold thousands, instantly fell silent.

“Hmm. It seems the students are obedient.”

The Pink Bear mascot nodded in satisfaction.

“Well then, I won’t waste your time, just a brief introduction about myself.”

“My name is Pink Bear.”

“I’m your new dean.”

Oh, he’s the dean.

This Pink Bear surely played a humorous role—almost made me laugh...

Wait, what did he say?

Moen's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the stage.

The dean?

This goofy Pink Bear claimed to be the dean?!

No wait, in the original book, the dean of Santa Maria College was described as a strikingly beautiful, curvaceous woman wearing a deep-V professional suit that revealed hints of lacy bra edges, paired with black garter stockings, and perched atop ten-centimeter-high stiletto heels while inspecting the academy.

Because the book’s depiction was so alluring... eh, no, so captivating, Moen had harbored great anticipation before coming to the ceremony.

After all, the original version of him had dozed off during the last opening ceremony and hadn’t the faintest idea what the dean looked like.

But how did the mature lady vanish, only to be replaced by this uninteresting, absurd Pink Bear?!

Not only was the package mismatched, but it wasn’t even the same species!

What I signed up for was a lifelike, life-sized beauty, and what I received instead was a plush toy bear?

Sure, plush toys are cute, but they definitely don’t fulfill my desire... my expectations!

Meanwhile, the students seated below had also come to their senses, erupting into an uproar that nearly blew the auditorium’s roof off.

Apparently, they too had difficulty accepting the sudden transformation from gracefully mature beauty to a toy bear.

“Ahem.”

Pink Bear cleared his throat.

Though the sound was faint, it instantly drowned out the cacophony of the auditorium.

“I understand your dissatisfaction. Indeed, swapping a stunningly gorgeous mature beauty for me, the adorable Pink Bear, is rather jarring.

But hey, it’s not my fault. Your former dean, Miss Hathaway, has been temporarily reassigned by the higher-ups for other tasks.

Which means, as a substitute, the role of dean has fallen onto me.

I know many of you are extremely upset with this arrangement, but—”

Pink Bear’s mouth suddenly opened wide, and from the dark interior emerged a burly, hairy arm.

The arm extended, then delivered... a middle finger to everyone.

“I don’t want to be your dean either, jerks! This is a pain!”

Pink Bear bellowed in a low voice.

“Got complaints? Take them up with the higher-ups! I’m just an unwilling worker roped into filling the position temporarily!

I was chilling on a beach surrounded by beauties, soaking up the sun and marveling at their legs, when I suddenly got dragged over here to play this role.

And to top it off, the higher-ups severely warned me against making advances on female students. Do you think I wanted this job?”

“No, I didn’t! A dean who can’t interact with lively, lovely female students has absolutely no reason to exist!”

"..."

Following Pink Bear's tirade, the auditorium descended into stunned silence once more.

Even Moen, unconsciously slack-jawed, looked as though he could swallow an egg.

Taking back my earlier assessment, this Pink Bear is not cute in the slightest.

“Tch, just a bunch of boring little brats, huh?”

Having apparently vented enough, Pink Bear retracted his "hand" and resumed speaking in a languid, careless voice,

“Anyway, that’s all I have to say. I don’t really have anything important to share—just thought I’d say hi.

Well then... well then, I wish you all a happy semester ahead.”

With that, Pink Bear tossed aside the magical amplifier and swaggered off, stomping the ground in what seemed to be irritation, even kicking over a nearby tea cup steeped with wolfberries.

A middle-aged teacher standing nearby looked furious but said nothing.

...

“All righty! Your turn to go up, little Celicia~”

Backstage, Pink Bear seemed to have undergone a personality shift, his voice now slimy and coaxing as he addressed Celicia,

“Are you nervous? Want a moment to rest longer? Let those useless students wait a bit—it’s no big deal.”

“They sent you my father to temporarily oversee the academy?”

Celicia's cool gaze bore into Pink Bear, her frosty eyes tinged with curiosity.

“Weren’t they worried you might stir up trouble?”

“Trouble? Me? Cause trouble?”

Pink Bear displayed a ridiculously innocent expression.

“Don’t look at me like that—I'm all about peace and love, you know.”

“...” Celicia’s cold stare sharpened further.

“Oh, fine, fine! I promise I won’t cause any trouble! Celicia, dear, relax!”

Pink Bear raised his hands in surrender, “Ah, don’t give me that look—the one where you’re treating me like garbage, okay? It makes me ex... um, it breaks my heart.”

“So?”

Ignoring Pink Bear’s almost revealing slip, Celicia asked,

“What could possibly have happened to make Dean Hathaway temporarily leave her beloved academy?”

“Oh, haha, it’s nothing serious,” Pink Bear responded, wriggling his large waist bashfully.

“Maybe she's out rendezvousing with her boyfriend or something, who knows?”

“Silence Oath?”

Celicia’s eyes flashed momentarily.

"In that case, I probably know what’s going on already.”

If a figure as powerful as Pink Bear couldn't utter a single word regarding the matter and was bound by an oath sworn in the name of gods, then it was undoubtedly due to a Silence Oath.

Coupled with Dean Hathaway’s research focus, it wasn’t hard to deduce the truth.

“Dark god, is it?”

Celicia murmured softly, then dismissed Pink Bear from her attention, heading toward the stage.

It was time for her speech as the student council president.

“Ahh, Celicia! Truly living up to her reputation—always hard to fool, huh?”

Watching Celicia’s retreating silhouette, Pink Bear extended another hairy arm from his "mouth" and scratched his head helplessly.

“Oh, right.”

While scratching, Pink Bear suddenly seemed to remember something. That ridiculous bear face now took on an unexpectedly solemn expression.

“I almost forgot my purpose!”

“I need to hurry to Hathaway’s office before those uptight professors react!”

Pink Bear glanced left and right, ensuring no one was around, then muttered to himself in a solemn tone:

“An office belonging to a mature woman—there might be something exciting left behind there.”

…

“Oh, it’s Celicia.”

Still stunned by being flipped off by a Pink Bear moments ago, Moen felt as though his soul was cleansed the moment a strikingly cold yet dazzling figure entered his line of sight.

“She hasn’t changed at all.”

Moen propped her face on her hand, carefully observing the figure on the stage.

Her long hair cascaded like a spilled galaxy, her delicate lashes fluttered, seemingly weaving light and shadow.

She was still breathtakingly beautiful, standing there as if she were a snow lotus swaying on a mountaintop.

“It seems… whatever happened before didn’t affect her in the slightest.”

So cold.

So captivating.

Even after what had happened, no stain could mar the petals of her untouched purity.

On the contrary, the instigator of it all could only lower their his in shame.

But isn’t that fine?

Moen silently thought as he stared at the figure.

Remaining forever true to her noble soul—that’s what Celicia is.

…

“Golden September, the autumn breeze refreshes… on this…”

It’s worth mentioning that Celicia’s speech turned out surprisingly ordinary.

It was almost identical to the typical principal speeches Moen had heard in his past life.

However, perhaps the shocking experience with Pink Bear, the interim headmaster, was too memorable, because the students were particularly attentive during this speech.

Applause roared through the audience after the speech concluded.

As Celicia stepped down, department heads took turns to deliver reminders and promote their courses to first-year students, hoping to attract them to their respective programs.

Santa Maria College differed slightly from the schools in Moen’s past life. There were no fixed classes—it was far more flexible, allowing students to choose courses like in a university setting.

There were no strict divisions between core and elective subjects; as long as students earned the necessary credits by the year’s end, they were free to choose any courses they liked.

Though this freedom was only available during the first week of enrollment, as later course swaps involved complex procedures.

This prevented students from being capricious and encouraged persistence in their choices.

For incoming students, however, this inaugural selection would likely determine their path forward. It was crucially important, and they had three days to audit various classrooms before making their decision.

But for returning students, the first lecture of the semester began right after the opening ceremony.

“The first class… is Magic Foundations, huh?”

Moen glanced at her class schedule.

“Perfect, it’s a great start for me.”

The corners of Moen’s lips curled into a faint smile.

Given the name “Magic Foundations,” the lecture undoubtedly focused on fundamental magic concepts—much more suitable for someone like Moen, a novice, compared to Professor Pulan’s practical magic lessons.

“This first magic class of mine will coincide with my debut post-vacation. Just wait—I’ll show everyone a different Moen Campbell!”

With a boost of confidence, Moen strode forward like a warrior heading into battle, stepping toward the path of light.

…

Grand Clock Tower.

Magic Foundations classroom.

The classroom resembled those lecture halls from his previous life, capable of accommodating over a hundred students. Yet when Moen arrived, he found himself entirely alone.

“I’m the first one here?”

Moen glanced at the time—it was less than fifteen minutes until class started.

Freedom certainly cultivated laziness to some extent.

The usual habit of squeezing into classrooms just before lectures, something prominent in many universities, was evidently alive and well in Saint Maria College too.

Naturally, this world wasn’t as competitive, so the culture of snatching prime seats in advance simply didn’t exist.

“Guess I’ll wait then.”

Moen meticulously placed his textbook squarely on the desk, straightened his posture, and sat waiting for time to pass.

“Let’s not waste this time either.”

With this thought, Moen closed her eyes.

…

“Damn it, that move actually has this variant!”

Moen suddenly opened his eyes, a sharp aura inadvertently emanating from him.

“Ah!”

A startled cry reached his ears.

Turning his head, he saw a young girl clutching her books, shock plastered across her face as her books fell to the ground unnoticed.

Uh-oh, his combat-ready expression must’ve been too harsh—he scared her.

Realizing this, Moen immediately softened his gaze, kneaded his face, and smiled gently toward the girl:

“Sorry, did I scare you?”

“N-No…” The little girl was on the verge of tears.

“Here, let me help you pick up your books.”

“No, no need—I can do it myself!”

The young girl quickly knelt to pick up her books, as though terrified Moen might touch her belongings and inadvertently infect them with something dreadful.

Her nervousness was unmistakable—such a simple task took her trembling hands ages to complete.

After finally gathering her books, she hurried past Moen and made her way to the third row. After hesitating for a moment, she ultimately settled in the fifth.

“Strange, am I really that intimidating?”

Moen scratched his cheek in bewilderment.

Why did this girl act like she was encountering a top-tier playboy capable of running a dozen love affairs at once, desperately avoiding proximity lest she become another victim?

No, that’s not it.

It must’ve been my overly harsh expression earlier. I need to maintain my smile—always smile.

Moen glanced at the time.

Five minutes left.

Class would begin soon.

People should start arriving any moment, right?

Almost as if flipping a switch, students began filing in.

Judging by the thick stack of notebooks and reference materials they carried, Moen deduced that most were diligent students who regularly studied hard.

Seeing Moen sitting in the very center of the first row seemed to catch them all slightly off guard. They quickly grabbed their companions and moved to seats further back.

At minimum, they ensured a distance of five rows from Moen.

Thus, as more students entered, the relay of seating decisions continued for a total of five rows, leaving an enormous semi-circular gap around Moen entirely unoccupied.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Finally, even Moen, her efforts to maintain a cheerful expression stretched thin, struggled to keep composure.

Am I some kind of ultimate pathogen? Why is everyone keeping such distance?

Other students also found themselves blindsided.

At the last possible moment before the bell rang, a bunch of students who didn’t bother tucking in their uniforms, had their hair dyed in reckless hues, and adorned themselves with pierced earrings and nose rings—clearly “delinquents”—snuck in through the back door.

They froze mid-step.

Where are our seats?

Those comfortable, warm, and discreetly out-of-sight rear-row spots that are perfect for napping through class—where did they go?

Why were they all occupied by diligent-looking students?

Scanning the classroom, their eyes inevitably landed on Moen seated front and center—alongside the empty seats surrounding him in a perfect arc.

But ultimately… they chose not to approach.

Though they wouldn’t balk at sitting next to Moen, this was the front row—who’s ever heard of delinquents willingly sitting in the front row?

Utterly impossible, no way.

Better to stand, endure aching legs, and remain sleepless all period than to occupy seats up front.

“What the hell is going on?”

Ariel, late by a hair, dragged Lea behind her, struggling through an unusually congested back row. She, too, stared blankly at the scene unfolding before them.

Where’s my seat?

Where’s my beloved window-side spot in the back row—the king of all settings?

Why is it gone?

And why is this area so crowded—what’s happening?

“What do we do?”

Lea tugged Ariel’s arm, gesturing toward Moen seated in the front row:

“Should we sit up there instead?”

“Absolutely not!”

Ariel’s eyes widened with fury.

“Have you already forgotten how the rumors spread after what happened before?! If I go sit with Moen Campbell now, there’s no telling what new version of the story will emerge to leave me mentally fried!"

"True… So now…”

"Stand.”

Ariel gritted her teeth.

"Standing through the lecture is hardly a big deal."

…

…

“Um… Professor Pulan, I’m feeling a bit nervous.”

Outside the classroom, the newly-hired Professor Fran hesitated beside Professor Pulan.

“If I run into any issues during my lesson, what should I do? I’m terrified I might teach poorly and face rejection from the students.”

“Don’t fret, don’t fret—it’ll be fine.”

Showing rare kindness, Professor Pulan comforted Fran:

“Every teacher must go through their first class, and students are always extremely forgiving during them. Trust me, they won’t dislike you.”

“R-Really?”

“Of course! As long as you demonstrate the skills you showed during practice, there won’t be any trouble.”

Professor Pulan nodded reassuringly. “Though a few of them can be mischievous, they are truly lovely kids.”

“Is that so? Then I’m relieved.”

Professor Fran lightly patted her ample chest, feeling a bit more at ease.

Still, she couldn’t help but anticipate what these lovely students might be like.

With this thought in mind, Professor Pulan finally escorted Fran into the classroom, and Fran eagerly looked forward as she stepped inside.

Hmm… For teachers, those sitting in the front row are always considered the “adorable” ones, aren’t they? She absolutely had to make connection with them!

Wait…

Where were the front-row model students?

Why was there just one dazzlingly handsome blond sitting alone up front while everyone else clustered five rows back—or even standing—refusing to sit near him?

This…

This…

Wasn't this just like…

Being disliked by the students already?

Have I already been rejected even before starting my first lecture?

"Professor Pulan…”

Fran’s eyes welled up as she turned imploringly to her mentor.

Aren’t you the one who promised they wouldn’t dislike me?

“Wait, let me straighten out the situation.”

Professor Pulan also had a look of utter confusion.

However, he was only dazed for a split second before his hawk-like sharp eyes accurately locked onto someone who absolutely should not have been sitting in that particular spot.

Regardless of what had happened, it was undeniably connected to this guy!

"Moen Campbell! What exactly are you up to?"

"Me?"

The suddenly named Moen looked completely bewildered, spreading his hands and saying, "I didn’t do anything!"

"Didn’t do anything? Then why are you sitting in this seat?"

Someone who had always sat in the back row sleeping suddenly moved to the front row—it was suspicious no matter how one looked at it.

"And why can’t I sit in the front row? I just wanted to sit closer to the board is all."

Moen looked shocked.

"Does seating now depend on academic performance?"

"Well, not exactly. Seating is of course free to choose."

Still, a trace of suspicion flashed in Professor Pulan’s eyes. "But you sitting in this seat feels very... wrong."

"There’s nothing wrong about it! I just want to study hard for once!"

Moen straightened his chest, a look of righteous indignation on his face.

I just want to be a good student; why is it so hard?

"You—"

Professor Pulan was about to say something further but then remembered Moen Campbell’s recent behavior.

Maybe… he was being sincere this time?

In that case, Professor Pulan took a deep breath and turned his gaze toward the delinquents gathered in the back of the classroom.

"What are you all doing back there? Sit in your proper seats immediately!"

"But…”

"No buts. Sit down right now!"

Professor Pulan’s commanding gaze swept across the room, finally landing on Ariel.

Seeing his prized student Ariel mingling with those delinquents, Professor Pulan frowned, slammed his hand on the desk next to Moen's, and said:

"Ariel Bugard, come sit here!"

"Eh? Why?"

"Why? I’m offering you the best seat in the classroom. Are you not willing to take it?"

The best seat?

Looking at the seat right next to Moen Campbell, Ariel’s face twitched.

But constrained by Professor Pulan’s usual authority, even though she was extremely reluctant… she dragged Lea along to sit beside Moen.

"Hello, Ariel. Fancy meeting you again," Moen said with a smile.

"You…"

Looking at Moen’s friendly smile, Ariel’s face twisted in anger. She let out a cold "hmph" and decisively turned her head away.

"Eh?"

Moen was taken aback.

Did I say something wrong?

"Looks like she still really dislikes me," Moen muttered, scratching his head. He then turned his attention to the other side.

On the other side sat a delinquent whom Professor Pulan had dragged over in person. Moen thought he looked familiar—likely someone who had once hung out with the body’s original owner.

If that’s the case…

"Hello," Moen greeted him with a smile as well.

"……"

The delinquent’s face twitched. He also let out a cold "hmph" before arrogantly turning his head away.

Moen: ???

"Hmph, why does everyone seem hell-bent on annoying me?"

Seeing that all the seats were filled once again, Professor Pulan stomped his cane in dissatisfaction. Then he turned to Ms. Fran.

"Start the lesson, Ms. Fran."

"Ah… Okay."

Ms. Fran nodded vigorously, then looked at the students before her, forcing a smile.

"Um… Hello, everyone. I’m Fran Fodur, and from today onward, I’ll be your second-year teacher for Basic Magic Theory. I hope to have your support."

"……"

The classroom fell into dead silence.

Ms. Fran glanced to her left.

Some odd-looking delinquents sat there, chewing on who-knew-what, occasionally emitting eerie laughs.

She then glanced to her right.

A girl with a face as dark as a storm cloud was staring out of the window, clearly paying no attention to the teacher at all.

Ms. Fran couldn’t help but feel a wave of sadness. Professor Pulan, are these the adorable students you spoke of?

Why are they so different from what I imagined?

"Well said!"

Only the golden-haired, handsome Moen Campbell clapped with enthusiasm. "Hello, teacher!"

"Hello, student," Ms. Fran replied, moved.

At least there’s still one good student here.

Look at this blonde young man—not only handsome but also polite. Although his name does sound a bit familiar…

Wait, his name?

Wasn't he named Moen Campbell? That name… Where had she heard it before?

Ah, in the previous teacher's reports—or was it in a newspaper article?

That’s right, a newspaper!

Moen Campbell—the infamous duke’s son, the legendary man accused of simultaneously dating thirteen women and forced an ex-girlfriend to get an abortion. The ultimate playboy scumbag!

Ms. Fran felt her vision darken and instinctively turned her head for help.

Professor Pulan, save me…

But unexpectedly, Professor Pulan’s communication crystal suddenly rang.

He picked it up, listening to the voice on the other end.

"What?!"

Professor Pulan erupted in fury. "The fifth-year brats blew up the lab building during an experiment?! And the explosion affected the magical creature storage area next to it?! Now the creatures have all escaped?! Dammit, I knew keeping magical creatures near the labs would cause trouble! Hold on—I’ll go over immediately!"

After hanging up, Professor Pulan turned to Ms. Fran with some embarrassment.

"My apologies, but I need to leave for now. You're completely in charge of the class now."

"Wait, but—"

"I have full confidence in you!"

With a thumbs-up and a heavy dose of unwarranted encouragement, Professor Pulan vanished on the spot.

"……"

Don’t cry, don’t cry. It’s just a small challenge. It won’t defeat me.

Ms. Fran blinked hard to push back the tears in her eyes. Turning around, she forced another smile and said,

“Well then, students, let’s begin our lesson.”

Here we go!

Moen quickly straightened up in his seat, his focus sharpening.

He had prepared extensively for this moment!

No matter the subject, the first class was always critical—you couldn’t afford to miss even a word of it.

For someone like him, starting from zero, the best way forward was to follow the teacher’s pace.

"Please open your textbooks."

Got it—opening the textbook.

"Flip to page one."

Got it—flipping to page one.

"Use the table of contents to locate the chapter on the fundamentals of multi-segmented continuous chanting techniques."

Got it—locating…

Wait a minute? Something feels off. Moen frowned.

"Today’s lesson will cover the basic knowledge of multi-segmented continuous chanting techniques. If anyone has questions, feel free to raise your hand."

"Teacher, I have a question."

"Yes, um… Mr. Moen Campbell, right? Please, go ahead."

"Why are we starting with something as advanced as multi-segmented continuous chanting techniques?" Moen asked, his large, innocent eyes full of curiosity.

"Why not begin with something simpler?"

"Simpler?"

Ms. Fran tilted her head in confusion. "But this is already the simplest unit."

"Nonsense!"

Moen patted the hefty textbook and asked,

"What about the earlier chapters? The ones at the front—multi-segmented techniques must be on page one hundred or so."

"The earlier chapters?”

Ms. Fran looked even more puzzled. "Those were covered in the first year, weren’t they?"

"...Ah."

Moen froze.

Then realization struck him.

Followed by a complex wave of emotions.

How could he have forgotten something this important?

He was a second-year student now!

A second-year class wouldn’t re-teach first-year material!

So even if he wanted to faithfully follow the teacher’s pace, he couldn’t. There was already a massive, insurmountable barrier between him and his classmates:

The gap between Year One and Year Two…

Silently, Moen lowered his head and flipped rapidly to the earlier parts of the textbook, desperately hoping to awaken some latent memories in his brain.

But after a few moments, he gave up.

Nope—there was nothing. Not even a flicker of memory.

The body’s original owner must have learned absolutely nothing.

So this is it? All a year of study amounts to is mastering a basic Lighting Spell?

What should I do? Should I just cut my losses and repeat the first year?

"……"

Seeing the defeated look on Moen’s face, Ms. Fran thought for a moment before deciding it would be best not to pry.

The lesson continued.

"Now, let’s dive into the content of this chapter. If anyone doesn’t understand, please let me know."

"We’ll begin with the origins of multi-segmented continuous chanting techniques, which trace back a thousand years to the Grandmaster Mage Mela Dormir, who pioneered—"

"Wait, Ms. Fran!"

Moen’s hand was up again. "I don’t understand."

"Huh?"

Ms. Fran was stunned. "But I’ve only just started."

"Exactly."

Moen gritted his teeth. "I don’t understand a single word so far. By the way, what in the world even *is* multi-segmented continuous chanting?"

"……"

Is this guy seriously not just here to mess with me?

"Then…"

Ms. Fran forced a smile.

"Mr. Moen Campbell, what exactly do you want?"

"Teacher, how about this: Why don’t you start from the very beginning?"

Moen opened the textbook to page one and said earnestly,

"Start right here. Take your time—it’s okay to go slow."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because I want to learn!"

Leaning forward, Moen grabbed Ms. Fran’s hands, sincerity written all over his face.

"I want to hear you, Ms. Fran, explain the entire textbook to me, from cover to cover."

"Wh-what?!"

The male presence so close to her, along with her hands enveloped in his broad, warm hold, left Ms. Fran—a single woman without a boyfriend—utterly flustered.

"Why… why must I cover the entire textbook?"

Ms. Fran stammered.

"That would take a lot of time, wouldn’t it? Also, this is class time—we can’t disrupt the other students."

"Because I want to understand everything. I don’t mind if it takes longer. We can even do it after class—and I’m willing to pay for your time if necessary! But no matter what, I just want to learn—everything—from you."

Moen’s face was the picture of sincerity.

"This, this, this..."

As Moen continued to approach, Teacher Fran's cheeks flushed red, steam rising from her head. At the same time, her eyes seemed to be spinning with tangled threads of confusion.

Calm down, Fran Fuduo. You’re a teacher, aren’t you? How can you lose your composure at this moment?

Calm down first, and figure out what this student in front of you wants.

→ First of all, it’s important to identify one fact: Moen Campbell is a bona fide underachiever. The previous teacher of "Fundamentals of Magic" had once mentioned that Moen Campbell scored an unprecedented three points in this subject last semester!

Three points! As Professor Pulan put it, "That’s a score so low that even randomly stomping on the answer sheet with your feet would yield higher marks."

And as a quintessential underachiever, the key trait is a lack of interest in studying.

So it’s clear that Moen Campbell isn’t acting this way in pursuit of learning.

→ Second, didn’t he say just now that he moved to this seat because he wanted to be “closer”?

Closer to whom exactly? There isn’t anyone else in front of him, is there?

→ Third, while the entire class has been cold and distant toward me, he alone has been overwhelmingly enthusiastic. This unusual behavior clearly has some hidden agenda.

→ Finally, he specifically asked me to tutor him through an entire textbook — no matter how long it takes — and after class, at that. After class sessions… that would mean the two of us alone, wouldn’t it?

In other words… he wants me to spend all my time with him?

Combining all these points with the well-known fact that he’s a shameless player flirting with dozens of girls at once, here's the conclusion:

Moen Campbell! He wants to woo me!

“No, that’s unacceptable!”

Teacher Fran’s face burned even brighter. She forcefully pulled away from Moen’s hand and exclaimed:

“This can’t happen!”

“Huh?”

Moen froze.

“Why not?”

Hiring a tutor to provide private lessons—wasn’t that perfectly reasonable?

Could it be that his timing for such a request was inappropriate? But precisely to avoid any unpleasant misunderstandings, given his less-than-stellar reputation, he had chosen to propose it openly in front of everyone.

So why...?

“You trying to court me is unacceptable!”

Teacher Fran shouted, her eyes tightly closed as if she was channeling all her energy into this declaration:

“Even though the title of Duchess is tempting, a teacher-student romance is not okay! Even though the title of Duchess is tempting...”

“Huh?”

Moen’s eyes widened, his posture stiffening as he struggled to comprehend what the teacher before him was saying.

Duchess… Had he mentioned that word anywhere in their conversation?

But before he could say anything, someone suddenly knocked on the classroom door, which then opened wide.

“Sorry to interrupt the first lesson today—Student Council attendance check.”

Celicia entered the room, accompanied by her secretary, Weier.