“You—ugh!”

Faced with Moen's sudden defiance, Kaid appeared both angry and helpless.

In his view, Moen's decision to study magic was nothing short of a waste of time.

Never mind his prior disastrous results in magic lessons; just take a look at the boisterous Campbell lineage. Have they ever produced a renowned magician?

Not at all. The so-called Campbell family had relied on their famed warrior heritage to continuously produce a string of "The Crowned," securing their duchy title through generations within a single lineage for hundreds of years.

If Moen Campbell’s grandfather found out that Moen was diving headfirst into studying magic—neglecting even his combat classes—he’d probably spring right out of his coffin in rage and denounce him as a disgrace.

But there was nothing Kaid could do. Moen didn't even care about earning credits—what leverage did Kaid have to force him?

After all, Moen was the son of a duke. And like Moen said, if the Campbell family wanted to buy credits... that wretched Dean Pink Bear, who was currently fretting over the academy's finances, would likely wave his hand and say:

"Sure, take a break. If one combat class isn't enough, you can skip a few more courses as long as the money comes through—anything can be arranged!"

If the payment increased, the acting dean might just hand over a graduation certificate right then and there.

"Moen Campbell, you'll regret this," Kaid thought to himself with a sigh, unable to hide his disappointment.

"Though you claim you'll only try for a month, I've seen cases like yours far too many times. People often overestimate themselves, dive into fields where they're not naturally gifted, and by the time they hit the point of no return..."

"It's too late."

"Well then, let's wait until I hit the point of no return," Moen replied with a smile.

"If I don't try, how will I know? Maybe the wall’s harder, but what if my head's harder?"

"You—"

For a moment, Kaid was left speechless. Yet, in that instant, he glimpsed something different in Moen's eyes.

Such determination.

Such a pity.

Cade sighed.

Such hope and resolve were abundant among passionate youths like Moen. Kaid had seen it in far too many people.

But often, these feelings cloud one's judgment, leading them down an erroneous path.

"Let’s hope the day you wake up and turn back isn’t too late," Kaid said, patting Moen’s shoulder before saying no more.

"Thank you, sir."

Seeing Kaid relent, Moen expressed his gratitude and prepared to take his leave.

"Goodbye, sir."

"Wait," Kaid called out abruptly, as if suddenly remembering something.

"You should still attend this lesson. We've got a new assistant teacher, and you should meet him."

"A new teacher…"

Moen thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright."

Although time was tight, Moen didn't feel it was so constricted that he couldn't manage a single lesson.

Besides, meeting the new instructor could be valuable, especially since he might need guidance from them in the future.

---

A few minutes before class began, Moen arrived early at the training field where his lessons had always taken place.

On the arena platform, two classmates were sparring, throwing around flamboyant but utterly useless moves that made Moen want to run up and yell, “Stop it already! This won’t kill anyone!”

Still, it was clear that the two were putting in effort to streamline their techniques, working towards more practical applications.

"Looks like they're adjusting after what happened," Moen muttered, stroking his chin.

After all, the academy’s invasion had left a considerable impact, particularly on the lower-year students.

Moen stopped paying attention to the spar and walked towards the spectator seats.

A scattered group of students had already gathered there. As they spotted Moen approaching, a quiet stir rippled through the crowd.

Moen’s second-tier warrior hearing was sharp enough to pick up fragments of whispered conversations.

“Is Moen Campbell a freak?” or “…is Moen Campbell a gay?”

His lips twitched, but Moen ignored the murmurs. At least these speculative topics were better than the not-too-distant gossip about him possibly juggling “thirteen girlfriends—or was it fourteen?”

At least some voices were starting to counter the negative rumors now, weren’t they?

Moen moved to a quieter corner of the spectator area, intending to sit and wait for class to start.

However, when he reached the corner, he noticed someone sitting there.

It was Ariel.

To call it “sitting” was generous; she appeared more like a slumped, lifeless fish, her eyes vacant and radiating the aura of someone who had lost their will to live.

What’s going on with her...?

After a moment of hesitation, Moen cautiously stepped forward and asked:

“Ariel, are you... okay?”

“….”

Ariel's dull eyes shifted to meet Moen’s, her gaze carrying nothing but emptiness.

“Don’t bother me…” she said, waving her hand as if clearing away mosquitoes.

“Just let me be alone for a while. I need to think.”

“Class is about to start. Even your ‘thinking’ wouldn’t want you absent for this one,” Moen reminded her kindly.

“Kaid’s temper isn’t the best, you know.”

As the hot-blooded combat instructor, Kaid despised lethargy among his students. Even Moen—who dared to sleep through Professor Pulan’s lessons last term—made an exception for Kaid, standing attentively even while daydreaming.

“I said don’t bother me,” Ariel snapped, rolling her eyes. The aura of a salted fish grew even thicker around her, laden with a faint... sadness?

Sadness?

Wait a minute. Sadness?

What could this ultimate powerhouse, who once dared cross two tiers to go toe-to-toe with a villain boss, possibly be sad about?

Could it be… she realized her chest got smaller?

Moen glanced quickly at Ariel’s unimpressive chest, suppressing a malicious thought.

But that brief malice soon transformed into a chilling foreboding.

His eyes caught sight of the object tightly clutched in Ariel's hand—a smooth, meticulously-shaped stone.

A sound transmission stone!

The stone was half-activated, faintly glowing in her palm. Ariel appeared to want to contact someone but hesitated for some reason.

“Beloved…” Ariel mumbled as she stroked the surface of the stone, her tone steeped in melancholy.

“I’ve been searching for you since I got out of the hospital, but everyone says you’re fake, non-existent.”

Pausing to exhale a fraught sigh, she added,

“But I know you’re real because you shared your stone number with me back then. If you were fake, how could you have a sound transmission stone? And how could we have exchanged number?”

Oh no. Big trouble.

Upon hearing Ariel’s words, Moen felt his mind buzz and go blank.

Now he understood why she was curled up like a literary heroine here.

This wretched... lovestruck fool still hadn’t let go of what happened back then!

Couldn’t she follow the example of those other protagonists and quickly redirect her affections? Didn’t this academy have enough attractive girls?

Why stay obsessed with a nonexistent woman?

I need to get out of here—and fast!

Realizing the precarious danger, Moen started to leave quietly.

If he stayed here any longer, he might…

“I don’t care what people say; I will prove to the world that you exist. Wait for me, my beloved!”

Finally resolving her thoughts, Ariel decisively activated the transmission stone.

And then—

The faint sound of a ringing transmission stone echoed nearby.

“Hm?”

Puzzled, Ariel looked up. Her gaze soon fell on Moen, whose retreating figure had frozen mid-step.

Moen reached into his pocket stiffly and retrieved his own sound transmission stone.

The stone in his hand trembled slightly, emitting the same ringing tone—loud and unmistakable.

What?

Blinking in confusion, Ariel glanced between her activated transmission stone and Moen’s. Her mind struggled to process the discrepancy, her delicate face now sporting a slight frown.

She had dialed her beloved’s number—so why was Moen Campbell’s stone ringing instead?

Don’t tell me...

“Hello, senior,” Moen said promptly, interrupting her spiraling thoughts.

In one smooth motion, he tapped the stone to silence the ringing. Holding it up to his ear, he continued:

“Yes, I’m in the middle of class.”

“What? Oh, you need me to bring my books to the library later?”

“Got it. Don’t worry, I’ll be there on time.”

Moen carried on this fabricated conversation while briskly retreating toward the center of the group of students. Within moments, he disappeared from Ariel’s sight.

“A coincidence?”

Watching Moen’s hurried departure, Ariel scratched her head. She dismissed the thought quickly, her heart lifted by a renewed sense of joy.

The sound transmission stone number had undeniably connected—it was just that the owner had failed to pick up.

In other words, her beloved did truly exist!

That moment under the romantic starlit sky, in the flower-filled chapel sanctified with the priest's blessings, exchanging contact details—it hadn’t been a hallucination.

“My beloved must be unable to answer right now.”

Satisfied, Ariel smiled and deactivated the transmission stone. She wouldn’t be so hasty in contacting them again—first impressions were important.

Now that she knew her beloved was real and that she held a valid communication link, she could proceed slowly and methodically.

Seduction by patience—the best way to win over someone, step by step.

“Speaking of which…”

Rejuvenated, Ariel rubbed her clean-shaven chin as she pondered.

Back then, wasn’t there a senior who seemed unusually close to her beloved?

If she could locate that person, she might be able to uncover more clues about her beloved.

---

---

“Dammit, that scared me half to death,” Moen muttered under his breath as he hid among the crowd of students, patting his chest.

Just moments away—he had been mere moments from exposing himself. If Ariel had realized his sound transmission stone chimed because she'd dialed his number, he might’ve been stabbed on the spot, going down as the most absurdly comic villain death in history.

Thankfully, sound transmission stones possessed features similar to mobile phones from Moen’s previous world; he could silence the ringer without answering the call.

His quick reaction and convincing acting had saved the day. By pretending it was a senior contacting him, he’d deflected suspicion.

If Ariel had pieced everything together and made him pick up the call, unveiling his true self—her most hated “Moen Campbell”—as the “blonde beloved” she was infatuated with…

Better not think about it. Getting stabbed might’ve been the least of his worries.

"It seems that I'll need to find an opportunity to change the number of my communication stone later. If Ariel keeps pestering me like this, it's only a matter of time before a major issue arises."

Moen made up his mind.

Unfortunately, since he was currently at the academy, changing the communication stone's number would likely have to wait until the academy's next open day.

...

...

"Have you guys heard? That new assistant teacher—apparently, Pink Bear, the principal, personally recommended him!"

Because Moen had sat nearby, the group of students had redirected their topic of conversation from their usual gossip about Moen Campbell to chatting about the new teacher who was about to make an appearance.

Moen, intrigued, listened in with interest.

"The principal personally recommended them? Does that mean they have some serious connections?"

"Not sure, but I heard from other teachers that this new instructor made significant contributions during the previous invasion incident."

"What?! Could they be some kind of top-tier powerhouse?"

A portion of the students became excited.

After all, who wouldn't want a true expert as their teacher?

"Probably not. If they were really that strong, they wouldn't just be an assistant teacher."

Some of the more rational students immediately spotted the inconsistency.

"If they're not strong but still made impressive contributions during the invasion, they must be very brave."

"Like Moen Campbell before?"

Someone blurted this out thoughtlessly and realized too late that Moen was sitting right behind them. Awkwardly, they stole a glance at Moen's reaction before hastily shutting their mouth.

Moen merely smiled faintly, showing no particular interest.

Listening to the chatter, however, Moen couldn't help but be curious.

What kind of person would this new teacher turn out to be?

But no matter what kind of person they were, Moen swore internally that they couldn't repeat the disaster with Ms. Fran from last time.

This time, they would get along just fine with the new instructor!

Moen resolved this silently in their mind.

...

...

"Alright, class is starting. Pipe down, you little brats!"

The instant the distinctive roar of Teacher Kaid rang out, the bustling chatter in the classroom immediately subsided.

Kaid surveyed the students with satisfaction before nodding in approval.

"As you've likely already heard, we will have a new assistant teacher joining us for today's combat training class. They will be assisting me in guiding you through your combat skills, and I hope you’ll all get along well with them."

"Let me tell you in advance—this new instructor is an exceptional individual. I hope none of you dismiss them just because of their title as an assistant teacher. Treat them with the same respect you would afford me. Otherwise..."

Kaid's cold gaze swept over the entire class. Though he left the sentence unfinished, an unmistakable pressure settled over the students, leaving no room for dissent.

At the same time, their curiosity deepened.

What sort of person could earn this kind of stellar mention from someone as stoic as Teacher Kaid?

Even Moen couldn't help but crane their neck in anticipation.

"Come and introduce yourself, Teacher Coren."

Kaid stepped aside, revealing a rare, warm smile.

"Make sure to speak up nice and loud."

"I got it!"

The man who stepped forward bore a significant, jagged scar across his face. He wore a broad smile and revealed a set of blindingly white teeth as he laughed heartily.

"It's just an introduction, right? Piece of cake. Been doing that all my life—I'm an old hand at it by now!"

At that very moment, as the scar-faced man came fully into view, Moen's expectant smile stiffened, bit by bit.

He even thought he might be seeing things, rubbing his eyes over and over again.

No matter how hard he rubbed them, though, the man standing at the front was unmistakably someone Moen found irritatingly familiar.

What the hell?

Did the world break?

Or was he dreaming?

Why was *this guy* here, in this place?

Moen sank into a deep existential crisis as the new teacher, Coren, began his self-introduction.

"Hello, students! My name is Coren. I'm currently a third-tier beginner-level warrior and a former adventurer. My specialty is staking out a mountaintop and strategically lying in wait..."

As straightforward as Coren's personality was, his introduction left quite an impression. In just a few sentences, he painted a vivid picture of himself, giving the group a lasting impression of a bold and unrestrained individual.

Moen, however, was an exception.

His mind was too overwhelmed by outright shock to register much of anything else.

"Welcome, Teacher Coren!"

Once Coren concluded his introductory remarks, several enthusiastic students led the room in a spirited round of applause.

"Thank you, thank you, everyone!" Coren scratched his bald head sheepishly, a grin spread across his face.

Kaid allowed the class to revel in the moment briefly before signaling for silence.

"Alright. If any of you have further questions, seize this chance to ask them now—don't waste class time later."

As he finished speaking, Kaid's eyes were drawn to an unexpected sight: a particular student, hand already raised.

"Hmm? Moen Campbell, do you have a question?"

"I don't have a question."

Moen stood up, his expression so severe it seemed like he’d caught a cross-dresser sneaking into the ladies' restroom.

"But I have something to report."

"A report? What are you reporting?"

"There's a bandit! A bandit has infiltrated the academy!"

Moen pointed an accusatory finger at Coren, his voice ringing with righteous indignation:

"Don't you verify backgrounds when hiring teachers?!"

"Bandit?"

Kaid turned a puzzled glance toward Coren.

"Is that true?"

"Bandit? What bandit? Are you perhaps referring to me?" Coren asked innocently.

"Of course I’m talking about you, you bastard!"

Moen slammed his hand against the desk.

"You must think I've forgotten after just one month, huh? Even if you were ashes in the wind, I'd recognize that face of yours! Don’t think you can pretend to be clueless!"

"Moen, Moen, how could you say such a thing about a teacher? That really hurts my feelings."

Coren responded with an air of self-righteousness. But then, his expression visibly sagged—a subtle mix of sorrow and disappointment. With his ruggedly masculine features, it gave off an unexpectedly pitiful impression, as if someone had just rebuked an innocent puppy.

"However, I do understand why Moen might harbor such biases against me."

As he spoke, Coren gently stroked the blade-like scar on his face, adopting a pitiful expression that only tugged harder at everyone's heartstrings. Like a wounded animal, his demeanor drew immediate sympathy.

"After all, because of this scar, people often assume I’m some kind of criminal. But—despite the constant misunderstandings—I take pride in this scar! Do you want to know why?"

Straightening his shoulders, Coren declared, his voice as resolute as if announcing his life's greatest triumph:

"Because this scar is the proof of a battle I endured against a gang of ruthless bandits! Three days and nights straight—I fought them to save an innocent young girl that they had abducted!"

"Wow!"

The room practically erupted in gasps of admiration.

This new Coren teacher was so brave!

Fighting alone against a gang of bandits for three entire days and nights, just to save a helpless child?

Imagining such a harrowing ordeal, every student couldn't help but admire the immense courage it must have taken. With such bravery, his essence must be one of genuine nobility and boundless kindness.

No wonder he had earned accolades from the principal for his pivotal role during the academy crisis!

"Lies!"

But Moen found himself stunned beyond words, staring in disbelief at the sheer audacity on display.

Was there anyone in the world thicker-skinned than this man?

“You spineless liar! What ‘saving an innocent girl’? You and your gang were the ones *attacking* her!"

Not only that, Moen thought to himself bitterly. **You even had plans for *me!* Thank heavens for Aluka stepping in back then; otherwise, who knows what would have happened…**

"Enough, Moen Campbell!"

Unable to stand it anymore, Kaid bellowed, stopping Moen mid-protest.

"How dare you slander such a righteous and exceptional teacher?"

"Righteous? Him? *Exceptional*? Are you kidding me?"

"Moen Campbell!"

"It’s alright, Teacher Kaid. Really."

Coren raised a hand to calm Kaid down—even though Kaid hadn't actually moved. Smiling, Coren shook his head gently.

"It doesn't hurt me. After all, even if I've risked my life fighting bandits to rescue an innocent girl, comforted her while bleeding endlessly, or played a critical role during the academy's crisis... for me, these were just small, inconsequential deeds."

“And no matter how others misunderstand or ridicule me, I genuinely don’t mind. I really don’t."

"Such tolerance..."

Kaid, momentarily left speechless at Coren's magnanimity, couldn't help but sigh in admiration.

Compared to this towering virtuous figure...

"Moen Campbell, why can't you learn something from him?"

Kaid shook his head, his tone heavy with disappointment:

"As a man, how could you judge someone solely by their appearance? You need to understand—it’s not someone's face that defines their worth, but rather the nobility of their **soul.**"

"What ‘nobility of their soul’? His soul is pitch *black*! So black it would get rejected by hell itself!"

"Moen Campbell, enough! Not only are you spouting baseless accusations, you’ve sunk so low as to attack him on a personal level? Have you no shame?"

"But I…"

Just as Moen prepared to defend himself, a soft voice emerged:

"Moen, how could you say that?"

"What?"

Moen frowned, seeking out the voice amidst the other students. Though quiet, it resonated clearly through the brief silence.

Apparently, the speaker was deliberately hiding within the crowd, making it impossible for Moen to figure out their identity quickly.

Typically, a comment like this wouldn’t faze him in the least.

But this one line seemed to ignite something in the room.

Students, who had quietly held their tongues owing to Moen's intimidating reputation, suddenly found their courage. One after another, voices brimming with righteous indignation rose:

"Yeah! Moen, what you’re doing is totally unfair!"

"Even if you don’t like the teacher, slandering him like this is bad behavior."

"Teacher Coren is obviously a great instructor."

"I used to think Moen was cool… but now? Ugh."

"..."

Moen squinted, scanning the crowd through narrowed eyes.

Apart from that initial provoker, who clearly had malicious intent, the others honestly appeared to simply want to stand up for what they believed was right.

After deliberation, he admitted to himself that Coren, with his façade of heroism and achievements personally endorsed by Pink Bear, had more than enough charisma to naturally win over impressionable young students.

In contrast, Moen's reputation had never been sterling. Tackling Coren head-on like this—without clear proof—made him look unreasonably confrontational.

Was I too impulsive?

Taking a steadying breath, Moen slowly sat back down.

"Forget it. Since Pink Bear allowed this guy to join, he must have his reasons. There's no need for me to meddle unnecessarily."

This is the academy, after all. With someone like Ariel potentially outmatching him, there’s no way Cologne, stuck at the beginner level of the third tier, could stir up any real trouble here.

Plus… maybe he really has turned over a new leaf, Moen thought reluctantly.

So, Moen Campbell, calm down.

You can't get angry over something so trivial.

You are the son of a duke, and you must maintain the demeanor and grace of nobility.

...

...

"Professor Coren, do you have a specific reason for becoming a teacher at the academy?"

The minor incident caused by Moen had ended, and the room returned to a cheerful atmosphere of questions and answers.

One of the rare girls in the martial arts class raised her hand and asked curiously.

"A reason? Of course, I have one."

"Oh? What is it?"

As soon as the hint of gossip was mentioned, all the students' curiosity was quickly piqued.

"It’s..." Coren cupped his flushed cheeks, his gaze darting occasionally in a certain direction, and said shyly:

"To find my true—"

"Shut up!"

Before the sentence was finished, Coren was interrupted by a deafening roar.

And—

A fist gradually magnifying in his field of view.

In front of everyone, including the stunned teacher Kaid, Moen had already rushed forward without anyone realizing it.

His gaze was icy cold, his fists were resolute.

To hell with staying calm. I’ve had enough of this.

"Go to hell, you damn pervert."

...