Celicia walked into the classroom, and the first thing that caught her eyes was Moen reaching out with both hands, as if trying to grab something. In front of him, curled up beneath the blackboard, was Professor Fran, mumbling something like, “Though the Duchess is tempting, a teacher-student romance is not acceptable.”

This scene...

Celicia raised her delicate brows, glanced at Moen, and said, “Did I come at a bad time?”

“...”

No, you came at the perfect time...

Although Moen wanted to say that, how could he? Saying such a thing might lead Celicia to mince him into tiny pieces.

“Well... um...”

Moen forced a smile onto his stiff face and said to Celicia,

“Would you believe me if I say this is all a misunderstanding?”

“A misunderstanding?”

Celicia turned to look at the others in the classroom.

At this moment, the classroom had descended into utter chaos.

The male students were dumbfounded, their expressions practically screaming, “This guy is a role model for us all—we must study him thoroughly!”

As for the female students? They had already pulled out their recording stones for magical documentation. Excited chatter filled the room as phrases like, “The fourteenth ship—ship fourteen has appeared!” rang out.

“I see. It’s indeed easy to call this a misunderstanding.”

Celicia’s voice carried a hint of coldness.

“To be misunderstood by the entire class like this, you really outdid yourself, Moen Campbell.”

“Though it sounds crazy, but it is the truth!”

Moen explained tearfully.

“It’s just a misunderstanding!”

How could anyone have expected Professor Fran’s imagination to be so wild? All he wanted was for her to teach him from the basics—but she assumed he was trying to woo her!

How could those two things even be connected?

“Well, Moen Campbell...”

Celicia lowered her gaze slightly and said,

“Whether it’s a misunderstanding or whether you’re still shamelessly confessing to whoever suits you best—it’s none of my business, is it?”

Celicia paid Moen no further attention, walked up to the podium, and surveyed the classroom.

“Introduction to Fundamental Magic... Attendance: 103. Actual present: 103. Good, everyone’s here.”

“Let’s go, Weier—to the next classroom.”

“Wait, Celicia, are you angry? Listen to me, let me explain!” Moen desperately tried to salvage the situation.

“Why would I be angry?”

Celicia suddenly turned her head, her expression icy, like a glacier that has endured a thousand years—unchanging and unyielding.

“And who are you to me, Moen Campbell? Why should I be angry for your sake?”

“...”

Moen opened his mouth but found no words to speak.

Fiancé?

If he said those three words, Celicia’s disdain for him would only deepen.

Because of an earlier incident, Celicia had come to loathe him enough already, hadn’t she?

“Let’s go, Weier.”

Celicia turned away, not even glancing back.

Just as she stepped through the doorway, the bun-haired girl behind her abruptly spun around and spat viciously.

“Heh—tui! Scumbag!”

“...”

Moen feebly extended a hand, wanting to stop them, yet unable to even find a reason to justify doing so.

He merely watched Celicia’s retreating figure, a sharp pang gripping his chest.

For some reason, his heart felt uncomfortable.

...

...

“Hmph, I told you, didn’t I? That Moen Campbell is totally a playboy. Having such a perfect fiancée like the president, yet still out there... messing around like this.”

Back in the student council room, Weier was still indignantly swinging her small fists in the air.

In her eyes, Moen Campbell was utterly incomprehensible.

If anyone else had such a flawless person like Celicia as their betrothed, they would likely laugh themselves awake in their dreams.

But him? Moen Campbell didn’t cherish such rare good fortune at all, instead metaphorically stepping on 13 ships at once—he was worse than a squid with eight tentacles!

It was a miracle he hadn’t twisted himself into a pretzel yet!

“President?”

Weier tilted her head in confusion, for Celicia, seated at her desk, seemed unusually lost in thought.

“Ah, sorry, I was lost in thought. Did you say something?”

Celicia snapped back to reality and apologized.

“What were you thinking about, President?” Weier asked curiously.

“...I was reflecting on that earlier scene.”

“Huh? Earlier? What’s there to reflect on?” Weier pouted in confusion.

“Could it really be possible that Moen Campbell was wrongfully accused?”

“...”

Celicia fell silent.

Indeed, the odds of false accusation were low—for the scene earlier certainly looked like a despicable scumbag extending his vile claws toward the innocent, pitiful Professor Fran.

But...

Discarding the atmosphere of that moment and removing the subjective emotional factors, Moen Campbell’s actions did seem a little unnatural.

Were those really the gestures of someone making a confession?

And his expression at the time...

“Smack.”

Celicia suddenly slapped her cheek so hard it left a vivid red imprint on her pale skin.

The act startled Weier.

“Celicia Leopold, why are you letting emotion cloud your judgment again? How embarrassing.”

Celicia lowered her head, her fine silver lashes fluttering like sparkling stars.

She’d have to revisit Professor Fran for a thorough inquiry later.

...

“Sigh, what even was that.”

After class, Moen walked alone along the shaded pathway leading to the cafeteria, feeling a little desolate.

Not just because Celicia misunderstood him, but because his carefully prepared first lecture as a freshman—his brave first step—had been completely and absurdly derailed.

Once Celicia left, the classroom devolved entirely into chaos—girls screamed, boys jeered, and the only teacher who might have restored order... was trembling behind the podium.

Order was only restored when Professor Pulan finally returned after attending to other matters.

But his fury consumed the room.

He mercilessly reprimanded everyone, declaring that every student must submit a ten-thousand-word reflection within three days—or face a deduction of academic credits.

Everyone except Moen.

Yes, except Moen.

Although Professor Pulan seemed bent on extracting at least a hundred-thousand-word essay from Moen, demanding to vent his frustration, once he understood the circumstances, it became clear...

Moen truly was innocent.

Though he was the cause of it all, he hadn’t committed a single mistake.

His only crime was seeking knowledge and asking the teacher to teach him from the basics. And what was so wrong with that?

This thirst for knowledge was precisely the quality Professor Pulan valued most.

Therefore, strict and severe as Professor Pulan was, he found no grounds to admonish Moen in this particular case. He ultimately let Moen leave with a look of utter frustration, as though he’d swallowed a fly.

As for Professor Fran, after hearing Moen’s explanation, she also realized it had all been her own misunderstanding.

However, her face remained flushed thereafter, making her entirely incapable of facing Moen.

“It seems impossible to go through the proper channels to learn this subject now. I’ll need to think of an alternative.”

Moen rubbed his face, regaining his resolve.

This minor setback wasn’t enough to make him give up.

...

After finishing his lunch in the cafeteria, Moen headed straight to the academy’s library.

The librarian was a senior student—beautiful, with a generous figure, an alluring tear mole at the corner of her eye, and a subtle air of charm.

Moen stole just a quick glance when passing by, not daring to look too long.

Focus! Study! Block out distractions!

He walked to the magical books section.

The library’s vast collection overwhelmed him at first, but with the aid of some carefully crafted labels and signs on the shelves, Moen managed to locate the book he sought.

“Wonder who wrote this,” he muttered, admiring the polished and elegant signage adorning the shelves.

“Must be someone who’s really kind and considerate.”

...

Bringing the book back to the reading area.

The title read: *Detailed Explanation of Magical Basics.*

This was the book Moen chose.

Since it claimed to be a detailed explanation, its content was obviously more comprehensive and beginner-friendly than the standard course textbook, making it perfect for novices like Moen.

“If I can’t rely on the teacher, I’ll study on my own!”

Moen’s eyes glimmered with resolve.

Nothing could interrupt his pursuit of knowledge. No one could stop his quest!

...

“Urgh, I can’t do it anymore...”

Half an hour later, Moen gave up.

It wasn’t that self-study didn’t work—it’s just that the pace was unbearably slow.

After spending thirty minutes understanding who Meladormir was—a legendary prime-level archmage from a thousand years ago, whose feats were earth-shattering—he realized he was still only in the preface to the preface.

Worse, it was the part of the book requiring the least comprehension, mostly memorization—much like a biography section in a math textbook about the life of a famous mathematician.

But biographies hardly hold significant importance in studies—they aren't even frequently tested.

What truly matters are the formulas, theorems, and symbols left behind by that individual—as those are the aspects that make students pull their hair out in frustration.

It wasn’t that Moen lacked ability; it’s just that if he tried managing this book alone, the time it would take him to finish it...

Congratulations, Moen Campbell. Six years have flown by, and you’ve graduated. Here’s your diploma—kindly get lost.

That’s exactly the sentiment Professor Pulan would express before kicking him out of the academy without a second thought.

No point trying to learn magic like this.

“No, I still need someone to teach me.”

But who?

Professor Fran now wanted to flee at the mere sight of him, and Professor Pulan... Professor Pulan would likely see him as another reason for his blood pressure to spike. And with his temperament, if Moen didn't know anything about the course and asked him for a lesson, either the academy would lose a life or the educational community would suffer the loss of one of its pillars.

Of course, there were other magic instructors, but Moen didn’t know them well.

Wait a minute.

Why must his tutor be an actual teacher?

Moen suddenly realized something crucial.

If someone could teach him, why did it have to be a teacher?

For instance...

Moen’s sharp gaze swept across the library, finally landing on a female student sitting in the far corner.

She wore thick-framed, black glasses, her hair braided into neat plaits. She appeared completely absorbed in the book she was reading.

Clearly, she was the typical good girl and model student.

"Hmph, students like her seem to be more easily tempted." Unconsciously, Moen revealed the evil smirk of a blonde villain.

...

"Excuse me."

Sari Frand was engrossed in reading her favorite book when suddenly she heard a gentle voice.

Is someone calling me?

She looked up in bewilderment, her gaze accidentally locking onto a pair of sapphire-blue, tender eyes.

Just as she was about to be pulled into those mesmerizing eyes, her vision expanded, and Sari could see the full appearance of the person in front of her.

Her pupils shook violently!

Moen Campbell!

The son of a duke notorious for "juggling thirteen relationships," the ultimate scumbag!

Why was he here?

Sari froze for a moment, then quickly stood up.

No... No way, I must run now! Otherwise... otherwise...

"Wait, wait, don't leave, don’t leave yet!"

Moen showed a helpless smile, stopping Sari from walking away.

"Relax, mate. I’m not here to deceive you, and neither am I trying to woo you. I just have a favor to ask of you."

"What... what do you want?" Sari asked, clutching her book tightly to her chest and shrinking slightly.

"Well, it’s just..."

Moen pondered briefly before carefully asking:

"Student, are you currently short on money?"

"Short... on money?"

Sari was slightly taken aback, instinctively tightening her grip on her clothes.

Indeed, she was quite short on money.

After all, her family was just ordinary commoners. It was only through a stroke of luck that one of Saint Maria's teachers spotted her talent, giving her the opportunity to study here.

But Saint Maria was no ordinary academy. Even with her teacher's sponsorship, her life was extremely frugal.

Still, even if she was short on money, what did this spoiled duke's son born with a silver spoon have to do with it?

Even commoners had their dignity.

Sari's expression grew cold.

Adjusting the oversized black-framed glasses perched on her nose, she said:

"My financial situation has nothing to do with Lord Campbell. If there's nothing else, I'll be heading to class now."

"No, no, I didn’t mean to offend you. What I meant was, would you like to earn some extra cash here at the academy?" Moen quickly explained.

"Extra cash?"

Sari stopped mid-step and turned back to look at Moen, her gaze clearly filled with suspicion.

As someone from a poor family, who wouldn’t want to earn extra money while studying to help with household expenses?

However, opportunities to earn money at Saint Maria were scarce, and whatever chances there were typically fell into the hands of senior students—not someone like her, a first-year student.

Nevertheless, Moen Campbell's notorious reputation kept her guarded.

"Then... spill it, Mr. Moen."

"It actually isn’t anything difficult."

Seeing the girl’s slight interest, Moen couldn’t help but smile and said:

"I wonder if you have time after school or between classes to provide me with some private tutoring."

"Private tutoring?"

Sari’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"One-on-one? Alone?"

"Exactly, one-on-one tutoring."

Moen, unsure why she emphasized these details, still nodded earnestly.

"And... and the topics... What subjects would I—uh—teach?" Sari stammered.

"Well, naturally academic subjects. Although I’d personally love to cover more topics broadly, your convenience as a top student must come first. So, I wonder if you... Hmm? Mate, are you okay?"

Moen suddenly noticed the girl’s face had turned bright red.

Was it too warm here in the library?

"Academic... top student..."

At that moment, it was as if the primordial universe exploded in the girl’s mind, and countless thoughts surged forth.

Studies?

The "studies" that Moen Campbell was talking about... Could it really be legitimate studying?

And private tutoring, after-class teaching, one-on-one sessions?

In an instant, numerous "accidentally," "friend forced them onto me," "not intentional," and "only glanced at them briefly" types of dirty stories and illustrations popped into the innocent girl’s mind.

After-School Lessons for the Top Student.

Secret * Tutoring ***

Temptations of the Bespectacled Girl.

School Uniform ***

Of course! Moen Campbell clearly had ulterior motives!

"Um... If you’re concerned about compensation, money isn’t an issue."

Perhaps sensing his sincerity hadn’t come through yet, Moen said earnestly:

"Name your price—any amount—and I’ll pay it, as long as you agree to teach me."

"... "

He’s even trying to corrupt my soul with money!

"I am not that kind of girl!" Sari shouted emotionally.

"Eh?"

Moen froze.

'That kind?'

What kind?

Teaching him—was that considered being "that kind?"

But before he could ask further, Sari suddenly raised her foot and kicked Moen squarely in the shin.

"Money can’t buy everything, you pervert!"

"Huh?"

Before Moen could even react, a sharp pain surged up to attack his brain.

"Hiss—ouch!"

"Pervert! Scumbag! Go to hell!"

After shouting these words at Moen, Sari quickly fled with her arms clutching her books tightly to her chest.

She left Moen clutching his shin, curled up on the ground like a shrimp, face contorted in pain and his mind full of confusion.

Who am I? Where am I? What just happened?

Why was I just called a scumbag again?

What did I even do to that girl? Why does she hate me?

Moen’s face remained vacant, his eyes carrying the bewilderment of someone questioning life itself—how was he, a guy without even a girlfriend, constantly lambasted as scum?

Just then, a charming fragrance wafted over.

A shadow fell across him.

Moen instinctively looked up and froze.

Standing before him was a mature-looking young woman.

Her casually tied hair spilled diagonally across her ample chest like waves, her eyes like crystalline water, her gaze slightly aloof, accentuated by a tear mole perfectly placed under the corner of her right eye. When her eyes curved slightly upward, her expression carried an indescribable allure.

Her figure was impeccable—her waist slender as a serpent’s, the curves concealed beneath her fitted academy uniform sparking endless imagination.

Pinned to the chest of her uniform was a silver badge etched with her name:

Anna Kablin.

"Anna-neechan..."

Moen involuntarily swallowed hard as he stared at the figure before him.

Even with just a fleeting glance earlier, such a captivating beauty was impossible for him to forget.

It was the library’s administrator—Sis Anna!

"This student, loud noises are forbidden in the library."

The girl gazed at Moen, her lips curling into a gentle, neighborly sibling-like smile.

Yet in that moment, Moen felt a chill.

...

...

"Ohh, I see now."

After hearing Moen’s explanation, the kind library administrator touched her cheek lightly and laughed.

"Looks like I misunderstood you. Earlier, I thought you were sexually harassing that poor girl and was debating whether I should call a teacher or deliver righteous justice myself."

"I wasn’t doing that at all!"

Moen winced in pain, clutching his shin, his face crestfallen.

"I’m the victim here, aren’t I?"

This sort of thing happened way too often—time after time, he didn’t do anything wrong, and yet he kept encountering the iron fist of fate for no reason.

This just didn’t make sense! Weren’t blonde antagonists in stories supposed to punish naive and innocent girls instead of getting punished by them? Why was he constantly the one being punished?

On the bright side, after taking so many hits, he’d become quite resilient.

What’s the big deal about getting kicked by a girl? He could grit his teeth and shake it off.

"Huh? Anna-senpai?"

Lost in those thoughts, Moen suddenly saw Anna, who had been standing in front of him, crouch down. Her delicate, slender fingers gently pressed against his shin, softly kneading the muscles.

The sensation was so extraordinary that Moen felt incredibly ticklish, his face instantly reddening as he instinctively tried to pull back slightly.

"Don’t move."

Anna’s soft voice rang out.

Her gentle tone, however, carried a strange sense of authority, almost magical.

Moen immediately suppressed the slight tremble in his leg, letting Anna-senpai touch freely.

"Good boy."

She smiled faintly.

At the same time, a warm light appeared in the palm of her hand, radiating soothing heat that penetrated deep into Moen’s muscles and bones.

Within mere seconds, Moen found the sharp pain in his leg completely gone, replaced by an unfamiliar sense of lightness.

"This is..."

"A simple healing spell, nothing major."

"Thank you, senpai, but really, there was no need..."

"A person’s health should always be taken seriously, okay?"

Anna cut him off with a slight pout of disapproval.

Her tone quickly shifted to playful mischief as she teased:

"Or else, if you hurt your body, how would you continue being a scumbag?"

"... "

The smile curling on Moen’s lips, spurred by Anna’s gentleness, froze instantly. Scratching his nose awkwardly, he chuckled:

"So senpai recognizes me after all."

"How could Moen not be a school-wide celebrity?"

"Ah, I thought I was only notorious among second-years."

Moen scratched his head, before suddenly recalling something and glancing toward Anna with puzzled eyes.

"But since senpai knows who I am, why aren’t you avoiding me? Most girls who hear my name just run away like the one earlier..."

"Of course they run. In their eyes, Moen is an unequivocal scumbag. They’re afraid you’ll deceive them, taking either their bodies or even hearts. Naturally, they avoid you like the plague."

"But—"

Anna-senpai sat on a library chair beside Moen. Leaning toward him, her mature breath brushing his ear, her voice dripped with faint seduction as she asked softly:

"Do you think... someone like you... could ever play tricks on me?"

"Hiss—"

Unconsciously leaning back, Moen sucked in a cold breath.

This Anna-senpai—her levels were ridiculously high!

"Ahaha."

Watching his fearful retreat, Anna-senpai giggled lightly and looked into Moen’s eyes, her gaze soft yet playful, further accentuating her alluring tear mole.

"How strange; you’re supposed to be the notorious scumbag of legend, yet why does it seem to me that Moen is rather pure? This behavior of yours doesn’t match that of a player at all."

"Because I'm not a scumbag at all!"

Moen shouted angrily, his voice rising.

"Those are all baseless rumors! I've never even had a girlfriend!"

"Really? That's such a pity."

"Pity?"

"Indeed. You see, as your senior, I was kind of curious to experience firsthand just what it feels like to be charmed by a so-called 'top-tier scumbag' who terrifies half the girls in the academy."

The senior licked her lips, her eyes shimmering with intrigue.

"...To be honest, Senior..."

Moen suddenly puffed out his chest, unbuttoned one of the buttons on his uniform, and swept his bangs aside with a hand, flashing a devilish grin.

"Underneath this handsome face of mine lies the heart of a beast. Becoming a top-tier scumbag is merely child's play for me. So, Senior, if you'd like—"

"Keep dreaming."

Anna, the senior, shot Moen a disapproving glance.

"I was just teasing. Honestly, I've never had a boyfriend either~"

"You! Wicked woman!"

Moen gave a wounded expression, clutching his chest as if his pure heart had been shattered.

"Senior, how could you toy with such an innocent heart as mine? Doesn't your conscience hurt?"

"I'm a wicked woman, remember?"

Resting her chin on her hand, Anna giggled softly.

"And wicked women don’t have a heart."

"..."

It's over.

This woman's level of cunning was far beyond his reach; he couldn't outplay her.

Moen was ready to concede for now and fight another day when his gaze suddenly landed on the bookshelf. He noticed the small markers that had helped him locate his book easily earlier.

"Those little markers..." he suddenly murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Were those markers placed there by you?"

"Yep."

Anna glanced at the shelf casually, her tone nonchalant.

"A little project I worked on during a boring afternoon."

"You're really quite kind, Sis," Moen remarked with genuine admiration.

"Hm?"

Anna stared at him in surprise. "You think I'm kind?"

"Yeah."

Moen blinked innocently. "You treated my injuries even though I have a bad reputation, you placed those markers on the bookshelf to help the schoolmates find books, and you're even maintaining a sound-isolating magic barrier in this library so as not to disturb others.

Wouldn't that be considered kind?"

"Kind... huh?"

Anna chuckled lightly. "People don't often call me that."

"Oh? Then how do people usually describe you?" Moen pressed, suddenly curious.

"They say..."

Anna enunciated each word deliberately, her voice teasing, but just as she reached the climax, she abruptly flicked her finger against Moen's forehead, smirking mischievously.

"You’re just trying to trick me into giving you more information, you naughty junior."

"Click your tongue all you want," Moen said resignedly, feigning disappointment.

"Just so close."

"That said..." Anna tilted her head slightly, as though deliberating something. "Since you did call me 'kind,' I suppose I could reveal it to you."

"Tch, you think I'll fall for that? I’ll have you know that—Holy warrior."

Moen stopped mid-sentence, stunned.

Anna had leaned in, suddenly closing the gap between them.

So close.

Close enough to feel her breath.

Close enough to peer into the unfathomable darkness lurking within her clear, bright eyes.

"A snake."

Her crimson lips parted, her words sending a chill down his spine.

"They say I am a snake."

"Oh..."

Moen nodded absentmindedly, but when he came to his senses, Anna had already returned to a normal distance from him, as if she'd never leaned in at all.

"A snake, huh," Moen muttered, nodding again.

"Not bad."

"Not bad?"

For the first time, Anna displayed surprise. "Being called a snake isn't exactly a compliment for a woman, you know."

"Really?"

Moen folded his arms and nodded seriously.

"But I think it's cool. After all, snakes eat rats. And I... I’m terrified of rats."

"..."

Anna scrutinized Moen intently, her gaze unwavering until his serious facade started to crack, and then she burst into laughter.

"Moen, you’re quite the amusing person."

"Really? I'm glad I could at least make you laugh."

Energized, Moen rubbed his hands together eagerly.

"Actually, there's something I’d like to ask you, Senior..."

"You want me to tutor you, don’t you?" Anna interrupted, as if she'd predicted it all along.

"Eh?"

Moen froze. Then, awkwardly scratching his head, he admitted,

"You figured it out, huh?"

"I'm not deaf," Anna replied, amused. "I overheard you and that junior of yours talking. Besides..."

Fixing her gaze on Moen, she smirked.

"If a guy is chatting this long with a woman he doesn't know well, it’s either because he’s lovestruck or... he has another agenda. Am I wrong?"

"Nonsense."

Moen stiffened his posture, slapping the table for emphasis.

"What if I were simply captivated by my senior’s charm?"

"...Moen Campbell."

"Yes?"

"You might actually have the makings of a playboy," Anna said, narrowing her eyes with feigned menace.

...

"So, what’s your answer, Senior?"

Moen, eager and nervous like a schoolboy awaiting his teacher's response, asked expectantly.

"Hmm..."

Anna tapped her lips with a finger, pretending to think.

"I suppose I could help... but, you know, I can’t tutor you for free."

"I have money!"

Moen declared loudly.

"A million!"

Anna blinked, startled, before giving him a strange look.

"Moen, you realize that even the most sought-after private tutors in Belland don’t charge a million, right?"

"Knowledge is priceless," Moen said with utmost conviction.

"Goodness... what an adorably naive thing to say."

Anna chuckled, resting her chin on her hand and studying Moen closely.

It was only after her scrutinizing gaze made him fidget nervously that she finally stood up and said,

"Forget about the money. Since you’re calling me ‘Senior,’ it feels weird to take payment for helping out a fellow student."

"Then what do I pay you?"

"You can owe me one."

"Owe you?"

"That’s right, owe me."

With her hands clasped behind her back, Anna suddenly leaned down, until their eyes were level.

Her coquettish smile was dangerously enchanting.

"So, when the day comes that I want something, you can't say no, got it?"

Her voice dripped with temptation, reminiscent of the whispers of a devil’s pact.

Against all reason, Moen found himself nodding.

"Fine, Senior."

...

...

"Alright, we’re here."

After finishing her duties as the library assistant, Anna led Moen to a secluded corner of the campus's club building.

Moen looked up and read the plaque above the door.

"Ancient... Potion Society? Our academy even has this kind of club?"

"It does. But it’s normal that you haven’t heard of it," Anna said as she pushed open the door.

A gust of wind rushed in, and sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling window opposite them, momentarily blinding Moen.

As his vision adjusted, he vaguely saw Anna's silhouette.

Her hair caught the light as she swept it back from her face, revealing an unexpectedly melancholic expression.

"Because... this club only has one member, me."

"One member?"

Mooe was stunned,

"Is there really a club with only one member?"

"Yep."

Resting a hand on her hip, Anna offered a faint smile.

"And if I can’t recruit another member by the end of the year, the club will be officially disbanded."

"I see..."

A club with only one member—it sounded lonely.

"So..."

Anna turned back to face him and smiled warmly.

"Would you like to join the Ancient Potion Society?"

"Me?"

Moen froze slightly, but then, his expression became serious.

"So this is the price for tutoring, right?"

"No, it’s up to you." Anna's expression turned uncharacteristically serious.

"Even if the club’s on the verge of disbandment, I won’t force anyone to join. So, Moen Campbell: it’s your choice."

...

"Ancient Potion Society, huh..."

On his way back to the dorm, Moen sighed, hands on his head.

"I have no clue what they actually do."

Anna hadn’t explained much, only shown him the club room. Based on its name and the tools he’d seen, Moen guessed the club might involve potion-making.

"Looks legit enough."

But for now, the club didn’t matter. What mattered was...

"I finally have someone to teach me the basics of magic!"

Moen clenched his fists, barely able to contain his excitement.

Finally! After all this effort, he had found a solution to his academic woes.

And with Anna, one of the top students in the fifth year, as his tutor, his grades could only improve.

Sure, there was the risk that her beauty might be... distracting.

"But for someone like me, Moen Campbell, a true enthusiast for learning—this won’t be a problem."

Grinning confidently, he added,

"I’ll prove that pure dedication to studying makes one immune to fleeting attractions."

Humming cheerfully, Moen continued down the path to his dorm.

Not even the heavens could dampen his spirits today.

...

"This is a message for Moen Campbell: please report to the Student Council at once."

"Repeating: Moen Campbell, please report to the Student Council."

"Huh?"

Hearing the announcement over the magical broadcasting system, Moen froze.

In that instant, every ounce of euphoria evaporated.

"They’re calling me to the Student Council... this can’t be good."

Recalling everything that had happened earlier in the day, a foreboding sense of dread settled in his chest.

...

"I’ll get straight to the point."

Inside the Student Council office, Celicia sat behind her desk, her hands clasped under her chin as she coldly surveyed Moen, who was trembling nervously in his chair. She fixed him with a steely gaze and asked:

"Moen Campbell, do you have any leads on the recent sexual harassment report?"

"None! Absolutely none!"

Moen firmly denied it. "I've been burying myself in studying all afternoon. I had no idea such a terrible thing occurred."

"Really?"

"Of course!"

Moen nodded vigorously, then spoke with righteous indignation:

"In broad daylight, under heaven’s watch, with witnesses all around, someone dared harass a young girl? If I ever ran into something like that, I’d make the perpetrator taste the iron fist of justice myself!"

"Is that so?"

Celicia's tone suddenly took on a subtle and meaningful edge.

"It's nice to see you care so much, Moen Campbell."

"Haha, of course..."

"But..."

Celicia stared at Moen, her expression growing colder:

"Did I ever mention that it was a young girl who was harassed?"

"...Wasn't it?"

Moen's expression froze as he asked.

"Definitely not."

Celicia threw a file onto the desk in front of him. Moen glanced over—written inside were details of repeated incidents involving stolen underwear from the boys' dormitory.

Male?

Underwear theft?

Why did those two words together sound so jarring?

"I figured you live in the boys' dormitory, so you might know something, which is why I called you here. But now, it seems..."

Celicia squinted slightly, her gaze scrutinizing him from head to toe:

"Moen Campbell, it seems you've been involved in some other misdeeds, haven't you?"

"...No, absolutely not."

Moen shook his head emphatically, forcing out a smile.

"Why would I do something wrong? I'm a good student now!"

"A good student?"

Celicia raised an eyebrow. "That's surely rare to associate with you."

"Not rare, not rare, haha..."

Moen laughed nervously, watching as Celicia abruptly left her seat and began walking toward him. His whole body instinctively tensed up.

What’s going on?

Did she find out about my lies?

Is she finally about to tear me apart limb by limb?

Help me—the wife is plotting murder...

"What do you want to drink?"

"Eh?"

"What’s with the 'eh'?!"

Celicia passed by Moen without stopping, glancing coldly at him.

"I asked what you wanted to drink. And by the way, I don’t have any red tea here."

"...Good, that’s fine; I don’t drink red tea anyway."

Moen awkwardly chuckled. "Coffee, coffee’s good."

"Alright."

Celicia nodded lightly and moved to the side, quickly and methodically preparing coffee.

Before long, two steaming cups of coffee were placed before Moen. He picked up one, marveling at the aroma.

"It smells so good."

Moen said with astonishment:

"I never expected you to know how to brew coffee."

"It’s just pouring hot water over ground beans—anyone can do it."

Celicia stirred her coffee while adding an alarming amount of sugar cubes that made Moen’s eyelids twitch.

"What about you? Do you want sugar too?" Celicia asked.

"No, no, no."

Moen shook his head firmly.

"I’ll just drink it black."

"Alright."

Celithia casually continued adding sugar to her coffee. By the time Moen sensed her stirring it into a syrupy consistency, she finally picked up the cup and took a small sip.

"Ah..."

For the first time, Moen glimpsed genuine joy in Celicia’s expression.

Turns out you like your coffee this sweet? The book never mentioned that.

Moen thought about it as he silently picked up his own cup. Just as he lowered his head, he heard Celicia's words:

"Apologies."

"Huh?"

Moen raised his head in surprise. "What did you say?"

"I said, apologies."

Despite apologizing to someone she had clearly once looked down upon, Celicia’s demeanor showed no trace of embarrassment or hesitation. She fixed her eyes on Moen solemnly.

"For not listening to your explanation this morning—I apologize."

"..."

Moen was stunned for a moment. He hadn’t expected Celicia to apologize for this matter.

"Never... never mind. I never took it to heart."

"Whether you took it to heart or not isn’t the point. I was wrong, so I must apologize."

Celicia sat back down.

“Earlier, I consulted Fran and Professor Pulan again. They told me what really happened. You were entirely innocent today. You were actually a victim. All of this stems from the prejudice that constantly surrounds you."

"Yeah..."

Moen smiled bitterly.

He had no idea when he could shake off the aura of "scoundrel" that seemed permanently attached to him.

At the very least, he wished girls wouldn’t run away in fear at the sight of him.

"So, regarding that, I have a proposal."

"Hmm? What proposal?"

"Simple."

Celicia set down her coffee, firmly locking eyes with Moen as she spoke:

"Moen Campbell, would you consider joining the student council?"

Moen was taken aback. "Is this an order?"

"No."

Celicia replied without hesitation.

"It’s a choice."