The next day was the last Magic Fundamentals class before the open house.

Since the professors had graded the exams swiftly, this class essentially became the moment for the announcement of exam results.

Moen arrived at the classroom early, taking his usual seat by the window.

Resting his cheek in his hand, he gazed at the flowing clouds outside, attempting to calm his emotions.

The wait for the results was always the hardest part, but Moen didn’t feel that way this time.

He was certain he had given it his all, so no matter the outcome, his conscience would be clear.

Now, all that was left was to quietly await whatever destiny had in store.

As time passed, students trickled into the classroom.

Talking, laughing, grouping into threes and fives—on the surface, everything seemed calm. However, many eyes couldn’t help but dart toward the blonde boy seated by the window.

Moen paid them no mind, having long grown used to such gazes.

Ariel walked in right on time, shooting a glare at the boy who had once again taken her seat. She dragged Lea to sit by another window-side spot.

"That Moen Campbell sure doesn’t look nervous at all," Lea remarked curiously after taking her seat, her eyes wandering toward Moen.

"Hmph, what good is being nervous going to do for him? He’s still a loser," Ariel scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Hey, don’t be so sure. What if he really scores eighty?" Lea blinked playfully, her words tinged with a hint of hope.

"Impossible," Ariel declared firmly.

Her seat during yesterday’s exam hadn’t been far from Moen’s, so just to be safe, she’d asked her mentor in her ring to sneak a glance at Moen’s test while Professor Pulan wasn’t looking.

Sure enough, her suspicions were confirmed—he had only scored seventy-nine!

Seventy-nine! Not eighty!

I win!

Though her winnings might only amount to something as trivial as an extra chicken leg, victory was still hers.

When the time came, Ariel vowed she’d munch on her fragrant, delicious chicken leg while ruthlessly mocking Moen Campbell!

The delightful thought made her heart swell with joy.

At that moment, Professor Fran entered the classroom and announced to the class:

"Now, I’ll be releasing the results of yesterday’s exam."

As her words fell, the previously lively classroom grew silent.

All eyes were fixed on Professor Fran, eagerly awaiting the next moment.

While this was just a monthly test with minimal impact on credits, the curiosity surrounding the results had grown unusually intense this time.

For many, their concern wasn’t about their own scores, but rather how well the outspoken duke’s son had performed one month after his bold proclamation.

***

"Tac Rod, fifty-three points..."

"Gucci Sloan, sixty-one points..."

"…"

"Ariel Bugard, one hundred points!"

"Whoa!"

"What?"

"A hundred?"

The instant Ariel's score was announced, the room erupted in disbelief.

One hundred points!

To achieve a perfect score in a subject like Magic Fundamentals—was that even possible?

Had anyone ever done it before?

Eyes widened, breaths were taken in sharply, and students stared at Ariel in astonishment, silently marveling at her exceptional achievement.

In the midst of their unbridled admiration, Ariel wore her trademark smirk—a cocky curve to her lips—as she proudly strode to the front. Taking her test paper in hand, she turned to flash Moen a challenging look.

You're not the only one working hard!

But Moen didn’t notice Ariel’s gesture; his gaze remained affixed on Professor Pulan, waiting for his moment.

***

"Next."

"Moen Campbell."

The room, which had been lively from Ariel’s announcement moments before, fell silent again.

Feeling all the eyes trained on her, Professor Pulan hesitated before speaking:

"Eighty!"

A deafening eruption filled the classroom, far beyond the commotion Ariel’s perfect score had caused earlier.

"He really scored eighty?"

"Impossible. He actually made it happen?"

"Barely passed? Could it be cheating?"

“No way, Professor Pulan personally invigilated the exam.”

"So that means..."

"We’re doomed. Meet me on the rooftop."

After the initial shock, cries of anguish from gambling students filled the room.

Moen, however, seemed oblivious to the chaos around him.

In his ears, only one word resounded overwhelmingly: **Eighty.**

He did it.

He really did it.

Even though he had kept telling himself to stay calm and accept any outcome, hearing that number stirred an uncontrollable wave of emotion within him.

What to do now?

Cheer?

Cry?

Dance?

Sprint a victory lap around the campus?

Or share the good news with senior immediately?

Oh, right—his test paper.

He’d better retrieve his test paper first.

Moen walked toward the podium, but Professor Fran hesitated and gave him a wry smile.

"Apologies, your test paper... unfortunately met a tragic end. Professor Gran accidentally spilled coffee on it, and well, it’s ruined."

"Huh?"

"But don’t worry about your score; your test was graded in front of all the professors, so there’s absolutely no doubt about the results," Professor Fran reassured him hurriedly upon seeing Moen’s confused expression.

"I see."

Moen shook his head in mild disappointment but didn’t dwell on it.

The paper didn’t matter—the score did.

One month of arduous effort had not gone waste. That was enough for him.

"Moen," Professor Fran called out again unexpectedly.

"You’re incredible. Not just me—every single professor thinks so."

"…Thank you."

Moen blinked, a soft smile creeping onto his face. He turned back and walked away, his footsteps light and springy.

Just then, a piercing scream jolted him to a stop.

"Noooo—!"

Ariel collapsed to her knees, her hands digging into the ground.

Despite holding the highest score in the class—potentially the first perfect score in history—she appeared the most defeated of all.

Even a few students who had gambled away large sums couldn’t help but glance her way curiously, wondering if she had wagered something more than important—like her spouse.

"Why? Why did it have to end like this? How could I lose?" Ariel slammed her fists against the floor and screamed with the agony of her soul:

"My food money, my chicken leg! I don’t want to eat black bread; it’ll shrink my chest!"

Everyone: "…"

Moen: "…"

***

"Yay! We won!"

On the other side of the campus, as Moen's score rapidly circulated, a starkly contrasting scene played out.

Three adorable girls let out jubilant cheers, practically bouncing with joy at the long-awaited vindication.

"Hmph! I always said Moen could do it!" Emma, a twin-tailed girl, puffed out her chest and posed confidently.

"As his number one fan, my judgment was spot-on!"

"Exactly!"

"Those snobs who looked down on Moen must be fuming right now!"

The other two giggled, their cheeks flushed with excitement—as if they were drunk on victory.

Meanwhile, Fannie stood off to the side, seemingly oblivious to their impassioned vindication. She stared blankly, calculating something in her head.

Having been relentlessly badgered by the trio earlier, she had bet the spare 5,000 Emil she had lying around on Moen Campbell.

And now, at twenty times the payout...

Ten thousand!

Ten thousand Emil!

This was no small sum.

With this money, she could finally afford new clothes, new art supplies, and even magical books she’d been eyeing.

But most importantly...

Fannie stole a glance at the three girls still gleefully celebrating. She swallowed hard.

All three of them were from respectable families, so their allowance must’ve been substantial—at least several thousand Emil each.

Several thousand multiplied by twenty...

My god.

Had they just become... rich ladies overnight?