"Heh heh, not bad, really not bad."

The dean’s office was filled with smoke.

Pink Bear lay sprawled on his newly purchased genuine leather sofa that mimicked the tactile feel of human legs. He was puffing on a top-tier cigar from the southern Rock region while flipping through the recently acquired "Holy Maiden Photo Collection 2.0" he had obtained through special channels. From time to time, a lecherous chuckle escaped him.

This version of the photo collection not only used a model who bore a stronger resemblance to the Holy Maiden but also included iconic scenes recreated for enhanced content.

For instance, one of these scenes depicted the previous Pure Holy Maiden of the Life Church purifying a cemetery from undead spirits using nothing but her divine powers. The Pure Holy Maiden held a solemn staff, her expression strict as she unleashed a boundless light of holiness, vanquishing the grotesque, horrifying spirits. Witnessing this scene evoked feelings of supreme admiration and reverence in everyone.

However, the "Holy Maiden" depicted in the photo collection was wearing a blood-racing, seductive, and revealing lingerie bikini.

"Tsk tsk, the intertwining of solemnity and allure, the fusion of angel and devil—marvelous, truly marvelous. Just gazing at this collection makes my soul feel enlightened. What kind of genius brought up this idea? I really want to meet the creator of this masterpiece!"

While marveling aloud, Pink Bear's furry paw stretched out from his bear muzzle, flicked the cigarette butt of the cigar, and nonchalantly scratched his rear end.

Ah, this leisurely time of slacking off—how nice it'd be if only it could last...

"Pink Bear!"

A deafening roar echoed, and the office door was kicked wide open.

"What the—already back so soon?"

Pink Bear shuddered instinctively, hurriedly sat up straight, and hid the photo collection behind him. He turned to face the doorway, where an enraged Professor Pulan glared at him. Shaking his head frantically, he declared, "I wasn’t slacking, I wasn’t!"

"Slacking is nothing... trivial."

Professor Pulan’s bloodshot eyes betrayed his barely-contained wrath.

"Huh?"

Pink Bear froze.

Slacking? Trivial?

Was that really something Professor Pulan would say? The last inquiry meeting, I just took a 30-minute nap, and you nearly ripped apart my bear suit at the seams over it!

Why are you so lenient this time?

Before Pink Bear could figure things out, Professor Pulan flashed a sinister grin:

"Grab him!"

"On it!"

"Got it!"

Out of nowhere, Teacher Kaid and Professor Gran appeared, each tightly grasping one of Pink Bear’s arms.

"What are you doing? What are you doing!?"

Sensing danger, Pink Bear began thrashing in panic.

Unfortunately, both Teacher Kaid and Professor Gran were seasoned powerhouses. Their combined efforts rendered it nearly impossible for Pink Bear to break free—especially with Professor Pulan, the fearsome *The Crowned,* looming at the forefront, watching intently.

Surrounded, Pink Bear had no escape.

But why were they doing this?

Pink Bear's terrified eyes opened wide.

Could it be...

They found out I secretly diverted funds to buy the sofa, cigars, and photo collection?!

"Pink Bear! Look at the mess you've stirred up!"

Just as Pink Bear was devising plans to cover up the misappropriated funds, Professor Pulan flung a stack of documents right into his face.

"What's this...?"

Pink Bear followed the papers down to read the contents. Shock registered as he spotted a file on a man whose face sported a gigantic scar.

"Huh? Isn’t this that guy?"

Pink Bear recalled, "The one who’s attracted to student Moen."

"Oh? You remembered now, huh? The ‘good deed’ you orchestrated?"

"Good deed? Oh, well, yes, that was indeed a good deed," Pink Bear said with pride. "I helped him look for his true love, didn’t I? Wait, hold on—"

Seeing Professor Pulan’s expression that suggested he wanted nothing more than to gut him, Pink Bear suddenly had a bad feeling.

"Don't tell me... he succeeded?"

If that duke's son also had such a fetish, and upon meeting the scar-faced man’s pursuit, the two might hit it off instantly and fall madly in love...

—No, the Duke of Campbell would kill me.

He would personally bring an army of hundreds of thousands to end me!

Darn it, I just wanted a bit of fun... Are these noble youths all such freaks?

Even if you like that sort of thing, at least pick someone better-looking!

"Although I don’t know what’s running through your warped mind right now, I can assure you—you’re barking up the wrong tree."

Professor Pulan picked up the file and pointed to a specific section:

"I'm talking about *this.*"

"This?"

Pink Bear followed Professor Pulan’s finger, his gaze landing on the man’s identity column—where the word "Bandit" was bluntly written.

"Bandit?"

Pink Bear’s eyes widened: "This guy’s a bandit?"

"......"

Professor Pulan went silent briefly: "You didn’t know?"

"How could I know? Sure, the guy *looks* like a bandit, but do you really think I’d be the sort of shallow guy who judges people by appearances? Besides, the bloke doesn’t even have a hint of bloodthirst on him. A bandit who hasn’t killed anyone—can you believe that?"

"And it didn’t occur to you to use the academy's intelligence system to do a check? Do you realize what kind of reputation damage the academy faces when a bandit becomes one of its teachers?" Professor Pulan roared.

Pink Bear seemed amazed: "Intelligence system? You’re telling me this teaching academy has an intelligence system? What are you people trying to do?"

"Hmph, not just an intelligence system—there’s also a hidden armory beneath the academy." Professor Pulan sneered.

"An armory?"

Pink Bear froze briefly before erupting in righteous indignation:

"You mean you’re planning a rebellion? I’m telling you right now—as long as I, Pink Bear, remain in charge, I’ll never tolerate such disrespectful acts. Release me at once, buy me the newly released Holy Maiden figurines as compensation, or I’ll report you all directly to His Majesty!"

"Enough with your useless prattle."

Understanding that further conversation would only allow Pink Bear to sidetrack the issue, Professor Pulan got straight to the point.

"Even though you’re currently the acting dean of the academy, a gross oversight like this can’t simply be brushed under the carpet—you need to face punishment."

"Punishment?"

Pink Bear stared wide-eyed with terror: "What kind of punishment? Are you planning to work me to death with overtime?"

"That might be tempting, but I have something even better planned."

Professor Pulan sneered coldly, suddenly leaning forward to reach behind Pink Bear’s back… and pull out the Holy Maiden photo collection.

"Prepare yourself for *hell,* Dean Pink Bear."

With icy determination, Professor Pulan, under Pink Bear’s horrified gaze, flipped open the cover to the first page, using his strong hand to grasp the paper firmly, and then... tore it down the middle.

Rippp—

Accompanied by the unmistakable sound of tearing paper, the sultry “Holy Maiden” on the page gradually split into two halves. Pink Bear could feel his very soul being shredded along with her.

"No—!"

...

...

"And that’s it? Letting him off so easy?"

Inside Professor Pulan’s office, Professor Gran skillfully brewed tea and handed Pulan a cup.

"Such kindness isn’t typical of you."

"Sure not."

Professor Pulan smirked coldly:

"The real deal is still in store—there are over a dozen inquiry hearings lined up for him next. That fool really thinks he can escape this mess so easily? Compared to me, those nobles are far worse—they’ve got the academy on lockdown. No way they’ll tolerate such disgrace."

"Ah, true."

Professor Gran whistled cheerily as he helped himself to Professor Pulan's top-grade tea.

"Speaking of which, nothing’s happened in the academy lately, right?"

Professor Pulan had been busy recently; otherwise, Pink Bear wouldn’t have slipped through the cracks and appointed a bandit as a teacher without any vetting.

"Nothing major—very peaceful."

Professor Gran’s lips curled into an enigmatic smile. "No big incidents, but there’s one amusing little thing."

"Oh?"

Professor Pulan showed interest, "What is it?"

"This."

Professor Gran handed him a newspaper:

"While trivial, it’s been causing quite a stir on campus these past few days."

"Interesting."

Professor Pulan skimmed rapidly through the newspaper's contents.

"Moen Campbell boasts that he’ll achieve an excellent score in the upcoming magic fundamentals exam."

Professor Pulan raised his brows slightly:

"Excellent? So, eighty points? He’s taking a first-year test?"

"Second-year."

Professor Gran pointed at a detail further down in the article.

"Second-year?"

Professor Pulan paused before scoffing coldly:

"Impossible."

"Oh, so certain?"

Professor Gran grinned, "What if he gets lucky and pulls it off?"

"This isn’t something that can be achieved by luck."

Professor Pulan dismissed the paper by tossing it away.

"I’ve been teaching long enough to know what’s feasible and what isn’t.

If Moen Campbell’s goal were sixty points, and she devoted himself completely to studying diligently for a month with the help of a competent teacher, that might be realistic.

But achieving a score of eighty—that’s flat-out impossible."

Professor Pulan understood all too well the gulf between scoring sixty and eighty in the magic fundamentals subject.

That gap wasn’t something sheer effort alone could bridge.

"What if? There’s always a chance—what if he does pull off a miracle?" Professor Gran pressed cheekily.

"A chance?"

Professor Pulan scoffed with disdain, slapping his cherished antique desk:

"As I’ve said before, if he manages to pull that off, I’ll *eat my desk.*"

...

...

"Spread across the entire school already, huh?"

In the ancient Potion Society classroom, Moen stared in shock at the newspaper handed to him by Senior Anna.

The most conspicuous spot on the newspaper was adorned with flashy red text, exaggeratingly highlighting the bold words Moen had spoken in the woods earlier. It even included a melodramatic title like “The Comeback of the Duke’s Son.”

It was predictable that the publication of these newspapers would once again stir up a commotion in the previously tranquil academy.

“Does the News Club know everything? I don’t remember telling anyone about this,” Moen said in bewilderment.

“Don’t underestimate Senior Mintgoth from the News Club,” Anna said.

She handed him a cup of coffee, which Moen took, only to realize, astonished, that the coffee had been brewed in a measuring flask.

Do all intellectual older sisters involved in experiments enjoy playing this way?

“He managed to become the president of the News Club not just due to his abilities but largely thanks to one specific spell he excels at: controlling birds. Essentially, most of the birds in the academy are his eyes and ears. It’s rare for anything to escape his surveillance here.”

“Controlling birds? That makes sense,” Moen said.

With such a convenient spell at his disposal, it was no surprise that the News Club always got its hands on the juiciest scoops.

“What’s wrong, junior? Are you scared?”

Senior Anna stirred the coffee in the measuring flask with a glass rod, and as the sugar cubes dissolved, her tongue lightly licked the transparent rod, an enticing sight.

“Being watched by so many people isn’t exactly a pleasant situation.”

“Scared?” Moen steadied himself and smiled wryly.

“I’ve already thrown caution to the wind, what’s left to be afraid of?”

Moen continued flipping through the newspaper. When he reached the last page and spotted a betting pool about whether he could achieve excellent marks, he couldn’t help but twitch his mouth.

“Seriously? They’re betting on this too? How bored must these people be?”

“Studying can be tedious. You need a little entertainment, don’t you think?” Anna said, sipping her coffee lightly, her laughter dancing lightly in the air.

“Oh? Judging by what you’re saying, did you place a bet too, Senior?” Moen asked curiously, blinking.

“On which side?”

“Which side indeed?” Anna propped her cheek with one hand and countered with a question.

“Which side would you want me to bet on, Junior?”

“I…” Moen’s eyes turned slightly, and he answered, “I hope you bet on the ‘cannot’ side.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” Anna asked.

“Don’t you want me to believe in you, Junior?”

“Of course, I want you to believe in me, Senior,” Moen said earnestly, resting his chin on his folded hands.

“But even more than that, I don’t want you to lose a bet.”

“… Haha, even in a situation like this, you find ways to tease me, you’re such a scoundrel, Junior.”

Feigning anger, Anna patted Moen’s head lightly with the book she was holding and laughed softly.

“Have a little more confidence in yourself, young man.”

“I wish I could,” Moen sighed.

“But boasting loudly then and calming down after—it’s easy to feel like the task ahead is daunting.”

“So, are you thinking of giving up?” Anna tilted her head.

“Actually, you know, that sixty points goal you initially mentioned was already quite admirable.”

“Give up?”

Moen lowered his head, his gaze lingering on the tabletop.

The metallic table used for experiments was spotless thanks to the Senior’s diligent cleaning.

It resembled a mirror, faintly reflecting his image.

In the reflection, a well-dressed, handsome blonde man appeared before him, and yet, Moen felt he was anything but composed.

He felt inadequate. Incapable of changing anything.

Not himself, nor others. Compared to Emon, Moen felt he resembled a lost dog.

“Who said anything about giving up?” Moen clenched his fists as if engraving these words one by one into his heart.

“I won’t give up—not ever!”

“Is that so?” Anna responded like she’d always expected that answer, snapping her fingers.

A thick stack of books suddenly appeared in front of Moen.

“This is…”

“Practice books,” Anna explained.

“Since your goal has changed, so too must our study plan. We can't limit ourselves to merely memorizing and reviewing foundational knowledge. You need to engage in extensive practice based on the types of questions and formats that might appear in exams. After all, exams don’t always cover textbook material.”

“I see now,” Moen replied, catching onto Anna’s plan.

“Going for the ‘question overload method,’ huh? That feels nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic?” Anna raised a curious eyebrow.

“Have you done this before, Junior?”

“Ha, maybe only in my dreams…” Faced with Anna’s skepticism, Moen could only laugh awkwardly and try to dismiss the inquiry.

After all, he couldn’t exactly tell her that he had already endured the trial of “question overload” during the all-important college entrance exams in his previous life.

Yet, there was a striking familiarity to it.

This exam, just like those in his past life, would determine his future trajectory.

“Since that’s the case, then there’s nothing to fear,” he thought.

He’d already survived it once, hadn’t he?

Any challenge becomes less intimidating the second time.

All it takes is methodical, step-by-step perseverance. So...

“Bring it on, Senior! Spare no mercy for this delicate flower of mine—come and destroy me thoroughly!” Moen declared with a resolute expression.

“Is that so? Then don’t go crying later, Junior,” Anna grinned mischievously, gripping a teaching wand she somehow procured and gave it a light swing.

“Teacher Anna can be quite strict, you know!”

***

Night fell.

In his dormitory room, the luminous brilliance of a Luster Stone purchased at a high cost illuminated the space completely.

The opposite dorm tower emitted only dim light from a few higher-level dormitories, while all other rooms had already sunk into darkness.

It was late into the night, yet Moen continued studying under the glow of his lamp.

Eventually, unable to withstand the growing soreness in his eyes, he paused, placing a warm towel over them.

From the prepared warm water nearby, it was evident this routine had played out multiple times already.

“It appears the human body truly has its limits,” Moen muttered, rubbing his temples as he felt the comforting warmth on his face.

Even with the physique of a Level Two combatant, it was impossible to endure a full day of learning. Fragile parts like his eyes had already begun going on strike.

“If only there were a way to ignore physical fatigue entirely…”

As Moen continued to wonder, he suddenly snapped alert.

“Wait a second! I think I really have a solution for that!”

Without wasting time, he abandoned the damp towel on the floor, shutting his eyes and focusing his thoughts.

The Black Book Space.

This time, however, neither the assassin maid nor the naked adventurer was present.

Nor was it an abyss of darkness.

Under Moen’s purposeful control, the environment had transformed into something familiar—the ancient Potion Society classroom.

The blue curtains Anna adored swayed gently, though outside the window lay impenetrable blackness—a void masking the world beyond.

Running his fingers over the cold metal tabletop, Moen couldn’t help but smile.

“This place never fails to bring tranquility,” he thought.

After a moment’s sentimentality, Moen summoned the practice book he had been working on earlier, which now appeared before him.

“Let’s see if this works.”

Once again, he immersed himself in study.

Time passed unnoticed.

Emerging from his absorption, Moen glanced at the clock and gauged his physical state. His excitement grew.

“Three solid hours of uninterrupted study! It’s confirmed—in the Black Book Space, my body doesn’t experience fatigue.”

It made sense upon reflection. In the Black Book Space, it was Moen’s consciousness at work, taxing mental resources rather than physical ones. His body didn’t accumulate exhaustion.

In fact, it was able to rest fully during his time here.

As for his mental endurance…

Thanks to the countless trials and tortured deaths experienced in the Black Book Space, Moen’s mental strength had long surpassed that of ordinary individuals.

A person who has faced death a thousand times inevitably forges an unyielding spirit.

“So, theoretically, I could cut my sleep down to almost nothing!” Moen’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

Freed from reliance on sleep to recover from physical strain, he figured two hours of deep sleep each day would suffice to rejuvenate his mental faculties.

Effectively, this would add four extra hours of study time to his daily routine!

Moen clenched his fist in joy.

Effort truly didn’t betray its beholder.

Though his earlier struggles seemed fruitless, they somehow repaid him in a way he’d never anticipated.

They offered him a glimmer of hope amid his seemingly distant aspirations.

***

“But simply churning out answers without knowing whether they’re correct feels wildly inefficient,” Moen mused.

As he continued tackling problems, he realized an inherent flaw.

For this world, magic remained an exclusive subject for nobles and certain prodigies. While it had formed a defined academic system, it still lacked the widespread standardization present in earthly sciences.

Take, for instance, the practice books Anna had gathered—they weren’t formal publications but rather compilations of past exam questions and teacher-assigned exercises. Some sections were even handwritten.

Hence, no answer keys existed.

The purpose of question overload wasn’t to blindly attempt problems but to systematically identify weak areas in knowledge, enabling quick improvement and reinforcement.

Without knowing whether his answers were correct, Moen couldn’t realize those benefits.

It devolved into an exercise in speed and familiarity—things utterly useless for his needs.

“Sending these to Senior Anna for grading tomorrow?”

Ignoring how much time and effort it would demand of her, such an approach ran counter to Moen’s ideals of efficiency.

He needed a better solution.

Moen rubbed his chin in thought.

The first thing that came to his mind was to hire a few more ‘teachers’ to correct the exercises for him.

After all, he wasn't short of money.

But for him, recruiting teachers was time-consuming, and he might not be able to get them.

Therefore, this solution could only be a solution without a solution.

Moen continued to think.

As thoughts churned, Moen’s gaze inevitably wandered. Inadvertently, his vision fell upon the blue curtain swaying and the deep, inky void beyond.

Darkness...

Blackness…

Suddenly, inspiration struck.

“Black Book!”

At Moen’s call, the Black Book emerged, revealing its mysterious presence.

Why does he seem... a little unwilling this time, with that leisurely attitude?

Moen didn’t think much of it. With an excited expression, he eagerly pulled the Black Book toward himself.

“You can do it, Black Book.”

He patted his practice book.

“Help me correct my practice!”

【……】

The Black Book remained silent.

“You definitely can.”

When the Black Book didn’t respond, a sharp glint appeared in Moen’s eyes.

“Your ability is essentially to record, isn’t it? You even know the weaknesses of the Dark God. I refuse to believe you don’t understand the basics of first-year magical theory!”

【……】

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the time you altered my fate without notifying me in advance. I still haven’t settled the score with you.”

【Ah.】

That familiar heavy sigh echoed.

Suddenly, Moen’s practice books flipped through their pages rapidly.

Afterward, small ✓ symbols appeared behind the correctly answered questions, while little × symbols marked the incorrect ones.

“Thank you!”

Moen was overjoyed. He immediately turned back to the first page of his worksheets to start fixing his mistakes.

However, as he worked, he suddenly turned to look at the Black Book, his expression stern.

“What are the foundational principles of magical syllogism?”

【……】

Exasperated, the Black Book flipped open, revealing the explanation straight out of a textbook.

“Thank you, love you!”

Moen practically wanted to hug and kiss the Black Book.

It might not qualify as a good teacher, but it was indisputably an excellent textbook.

Anywhere he didn’t understand, the answers would appear—sometimes he didn’t even need to ask. Knowledge points would materialize on their own, eliminating the time-consuming process of searching for information. Who wouldn’t love a textbook like that?

...

It was a long night. Moen immersed himself entirely in his studies.

The Black Book floated beside him, occasionally flipping open to reveal textbook knowledge or snippets of lectures taught by senior students.

Moen was improving rapidly.

However, he didn’t seem to realize that he could use the Black Book to cheat and easily pass his exams.

Perhaps, in truth, the thought of cheating had never even crossed his mind.

...

...

“You’re late.”

In the student council room, Celicia looked at Weier, who rushed in with dewy hair. Her expression was blank as she spoke:

“Late by exactly fifteen minutes.”

“Hehe… Please forgive me, President…”

Weier stuck out her tongue, pleading for mercy.

“I was up all night interrogating Emon, and I overslept.”

“Really? But when I went to see Emon earlier, he told me you bailed at eight o’clock last night.”

“Uh…”

Weier’s pretty face stiffened slightly. She began debating whether to kneel and beg for forgiveness or cling to the President’s leg to save her beloved novel.

“Forget it.”

But this time, Celicia didn’t pursue the matter.

“Go make me a cup of coffee.”

“Got it!”

Weier acted as though she’d been spared execution and quickly got to work.

In moments, the room was filled with the aroma of coffee.

Meanwhile, Celicia stood with her hands clasped behind her back, turning to glance out the window.

The autumn season was nearing its peak. The fallen sycamore leaves lined the quiet path outside like a golden river.

If someone were to walk over them, it would surely produce a crisp, satisfying sound.

It was picturesque, but in the stillness of the morning, nobody traversed the path.

“How many days has it been?” Celicia suddenly asked.

“Five,” Weier replied, assuming Celicia was referring to the Emon matter. She rambled as she brewed the coffee:

“That Emon is really such an idiot. How could he drink a potion given by a stranger? And he didn’t even get a good look at their face—so reckless! If he’d been more cautious, we wouldn’t be this busy. Don’t you think so, President?”

“Yes, rather foolish indeed.”

Celicia withdrew her gaze, though it was unclear whom she referred to.

“Although, I must admit, I do find it strange not seeing him running in the mornings these past few days.”

...

...

“Ariel!”

On the path to class, Lea stared at Ariel, who was daydreaming beside her. Her large, sparkling eyes were tinged with concern.

“You have been acting like a different person lately!”

“Huh? Really?”

Ariel snapped out of her thoughts, blinking curiously.

“Must be your imagination.”

“No, you have been! You’re spacing out in class, lost in thought while walking, and you keep smiling foolishly at your communication stone.”

Lea’s expression grew serious.

“Don’t tell me… you’re still thinking about that woman. The professor already said she wasn’t real!”

“No, definitely not!”

Ariel denied it vehemently, then grabbed Lea’s hand and gazed at her with deep affection.

“Right now, Lea, all I see is you.”

“Oh, stop it!”

Lea blushed, her shy demeanor emerging.

Since Ariel had said that, she’d let it slide.

But just as she was about to say something, she noticed Ariel’s attention had already wandered elsewhere.

“What’s that…”

Following Ariel’s gaze, Lea spotted a blond man sitting under a tree. He was engrossed in his book, muttering to himself and occasionally underlining passages with his pen.

“Moen Campbell,” Lea identified the man under the tree.

“I heard he vowed to score eighty points in the upcoming magical theory exam. Do you think he can actually pull it off?”

“Hah, he’s just trying to get attention.”

Ariel sneered:

“He scored only three points in this subject last semester. Now he’s aiming for eighty? Starting now and expecting success? He’d be better off retaking first-year exams!”

“True, but the buzz surrounding this is quite loud lately; I’ve seen lots of people discussing it. Oh, by the way...”

Lea seemed to recall something and asked:

“Did you join the betting pool, Ariel?”

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

“Because I thought Ariel would be the type to jump into something like this.”

“...”

Ariel went silent for a moment, then smirked mischievously.

“You truly know me so well, Lea. I did participate—just for fun. I only bet two hundred Aemir coins.”

“Two hundred? But isn’t that your entire food budget for the week?”

Lea expressed concern.

“I remember last time you wagered your food money too and ended up eating black bread for a whole week. If you keep this up, you’ll get malnourished! Your chest could even shrink!”

“That definitely won’t happen!”

Ariel erupted in anger, then confidently said:

“Last time, I forgot Moen Campbell had a really powerful father, so my misstep was understandable. But now, things are different!”

Especially since even top-notch magical instructors flatly declared this feat impossible—it simply couldn’t happen!

“Just watch—I’m going to reclaim my losses and food money this time!” Ariel crowed, hands on her hips.

“But… but isn’t the current betting rate 1:20? Most people, just like you, don’t believe Moen Campbell can pull it off. So even if you win, you wouldn’t earn much, right?” Lea pointed out cautiously.

“...”

Ariel froze, her smile stiffening before her rage boiled over.

“Damn you, Moen Campbell!”

...

...

“I’ve decided—I’m putting my entire month’s allowance on the line!”

In the art club, a twin-pigtailed girl took out her piggy bank angrily and declared:

“That 1:20 odds... Who do they think they’re looking down on? Do they really think Moen is that hopeless? Just because *they* don’t believe, I refuse to agree!”

“Exactly, I’m doing the same with my pocket money!”

“Let’s crush those snobs! Single-fan solidarity forever!”

Two more girls echoed the sentiment, eager enough to roll up their sleeves and take on Moen’s haters personally.

“Emma, Alva, Amy,”

Near them, senior Fannie gazed at the trio with resignation and sighed.

“Calm down. It’s not that we doubt Moen Campbell—it’s just that the goal he set is extremely difficult. Even the teachers think it’s impossible.”

“So what!”

Emma slammed the table in fury.

“True dedication conquers all! Idol forever! I say Moen can do it—so he will!”

“Exactly, exactly!”

“Agreed, agreed!”

“...”

Watching the three passionate girls full of fighting spirit, ready to take on anyone—even their senior—if a negative remark was uttered about Moen Campbell, Fannie’s lips twitched.

Diehard fans could truly be terrifying.

But then, even Fannie couldn’t help but wonder...

Maybe she should bet a little on Moen Campbell for fun?

If she lost, a small amount of money wouldn’t sting too much. But if she won... The twentyfold payout was undeniably tempting.

Besides...

What if, unexpectedly, those girls ended up being right?

...

...

Since the Moon of Silence incident, no major events occurred, and the academy seemed to be enjoying an extended period of peace.

The leisurely life Moen had longed for finally arrived. But ironically, he didn’t have the leisure to enjoy it himself.

His days had been exceptionally busy.

Aside from two hours of sleep, half an hour for meals (three in total), and an hour reserved for daily necessities (bathing, commuting, urgent matters, etc.), Moen devoted nearly all his remaining hours to studying magical theory.

He even attended Fran’s lectures occasionally once his senior tutor matched pace with the syllabus.

Instead of choosing a conspicuous seat, he quietly sat near the window in the back corner, attentively listening to Fran’s instructions and cross-referencing them with those provided by his senior tutor to reinforce his understanding.

Occasionally, he’d raise his hand to ask questions—no longer as intimidated as he used to be. Fran would earnestly and thoroughly address his doubts.

Despite her tendency for emotional outbursts, Fran was undoubtedly an excellent teacher.

Yet, curiously, whenever Moen sat in that spot, Ariel would shoot him several sharp glares.

He genuinely couldn’t figure out what he’d done to offend her this time.

...

Time marched on.

And so, the day before the exam finally arrived.

Within the Ancient Potion classroom, Anna closed her book, signaling the end of the final class.

“All right, all the lessons have been covered. Take a moment to rest, Moen.”

“No need—I’m not tired yet.”

Moen ignored Anna, immediately opening his practice book to dive back into problem sets without a moment’s pause.

Anna lowered her gaze, quietly observing Moen.

His beautiful golden hair had grown quite a bit, but it was obvious that it hadn’t been groomed in a long time. It draped over his ears and brows, giving him a somewhat disheveled appearance.

The uniform he wore was also in a state of disarray. There were multiple wrinkles that hadn’t been smoothed out, and even his bow tie was askew—a sight that would seem unimaginable for a noble's son born into privilege.

His strikingly handsome face still appeared healthy and rosy, but the fatigue in his eyes was unmistakable to anyone looking.

It wasn't just physical exhaustion; it was a deeper, mental exhaustion—the kind left by a stubborn soul pushing forward relentlessly day after day without pause.

"Speaking of which, Moen junior, it seems we haven’t tried holding a club activity for quite some time now."

"Huh? Now?" Moen looked up in confusion.

"Right now." Anna nodded earnestly, her demeanor resembling that of a mischievous girl pestering an adult for candy regardless of the occasion.

"Well... alright."

Moen felt helpless; for all intents and purposes, he couldn’t say no to his senior’s small request. He could only give a wry smile as he agreed:

"But please, make it quick. My schedule is tight—I have exams tomorrow and still need to review the material thoroughly tonight."

"Of course, it'll be quick. Just drinking a potion, that's all."

Anna chuckled softly, as though she'd been planning this for a while. She placed a black bottle—a container so opaque that its contents couldn’t be seen—on the table in front of Moen.

"Go ahead, drink."

"This... Won’t have any horrifying effects, right?" Moen asked, still harboring fear from their last experiment.

"Relax, this time there definitely won’t be any problems."

"Alright then..."

Trusting his senior, or perhaps just wanting to finish this quickly so he could get back to studying, Moen didn’t even bother asking about the potion’s effects this time. He simply lifted the bottle and gulped all of its contents down in one go.

"Just like that—"

Before Anna could finish her sentence, Moen’s vision started to blur.

Then, with a soft thud, he collapsed onto the desk.

Before long, rhythmic snores began to echo through the room. Moen had sunk into a sweet, deep sleep, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in a whole month.

In the quiet alchemy classroom, Anna propped her chin on her hand as she gazed at Moen. Unable to resist, she reached out and gently patted his head.

"Rest well for a while, junior. You’ve already worked hard enough."