Beren was right—openly investigating here was impossible. No student would willingly come to him for punishment.

But Beren himself looked utterly incapable of "investigating." His legs trembled, his whole body shook, and he couldn’t even form a coherent thought.

With no other choice, I did what the other men here did—looping arms around women—and guided Beren to a nearby sofa.

Neon lights, drunken revelry—this place reeked of excess. Men in crisp suits, who’d probably been at proper jobs that morning, now played seasoned veterans of the pleasure district. They casually stuffed wads of cash into their companions’ cleavage. The hostesses didn’t resist; some even leaned toward their laps.

*Cough. Cough.*

I looked away, clearing my throat twice. I really didn’t want to know what came next. Red-light districts truly were worlds apart from mine.

Beside me, Beren hadn’t stopped trembling since we sat down. His complaints poured out nonstop.

"A-ah… this… this place is a disgrace to public morals! Filthy!"

His words sounded fierce, but the Elf was clearly shaking with fear.

"Y-you humans… all you think about is below the waist…"

Today, I wouldn’t argue with him. The scene before me was brutal enough.

"Huh? Th-that one over there—"

Beren hadn’t even caught his breath when he shot up again, spotting something shocking.

"T-that Elf tangled with two men! Her ears… She’s an Elf?! Unbelievable! How dare our kin disgrace themselves like this? I must—"

"W-wait, you idiot Elf!"

I slipped back into my usual tone without thinking.

This Elf was so worked up, his IQ seemed to have plummeted.

"That woman just glued fake Elf ears to her head. It’s… uh… called cosplay?"

My perverted old man often played these games with his wives. His closet overflowed with weird outfits—"maid costumes," "swimsuits," "magical girl gear."

He called it "romantic atmosphere."

*Screw your romance.* I prayed he wasn’t the source of this trend. If he was, I’d crack his skull with the Hero’s fist.

"Beren, calm down. Stay here. I’ll get you a drink."

Seeing him still on edge, I sighed deeply.

…

The bar counter overflowed with bizarre "drinks." Giving any of them to Beren would only cause more trouble. As I scanned for something healthier, a familiar scent and voice cut through the noise.

"Juice for this young man. On the house."

The madam’s pipe exhaled lazy coils of pale smoke.

"Yes, Madam."

The staff moved silently. I’d been cornered by a dangerously sharp woman.

"Well? Found any suspicious minors in my place?" she asked.

"N-not really…"

*Sorry, Madam. You’re staring at one right now.*

Her aura was nothing like Serica’s. I struggled to respond.

Suddenly, she burst into laughter, watching my stiff posture.

"Relax, sweetie. I don’t prey on good kids. That Elf—is she your wife? Lover? Or…" Her grin turned sly. "Slave?"

"We’re nothing!"

And why was "slave" even an option?! Enslaving Elves would spark a racial crisis!

"Hmm? But that Elf… she likes you."

She blew a smoke ring straight into my face.

Spotting the truth after one glance—this madam had clearly survived her share of love wars.

"What about you, kid? Speak up about feelings early. Keep a girl waiting too long…" She tapped her temple. "Who knows what energy builds up inside her?"

She set down her pipe, nodding toward Beren.

"Your drink’s coming. This is your chance to play the hero."

*Play the hero?*

I glanced over. Beren sat frozen like a puppet, trembling. Around him loomed several shady figures.

Worse—they wore our academy uniforms.

"Tch. Asking for death…"

Before I knew it, my fists were clenched, my body already rising.

Beren was arrogant and insufferable most days. But beneath it all, she was just an unmarried, lonely "old maid."

*Heh heh~ That’s the spirit.*

The madam’s pipe glowed as she watched me leave.

"This place—fickle yet fiercely protective—reminds me of that man."

…

Had Beren’s unusually "pretty" outfit today blinded them? The four students surrounding her hadn’t recognized their teacher. They’d tossed aside all human decency, taunting the Elf.

"Coming here but playing innocent? Please."

Their greasy stares seemed to strip her clothes off. Her silence only emboldened them.

"Just split the cost four ways. How’s that?"

One man flashed fingers in Beren’s face.

*Four at once?* These were repeat offenders.

"Don’t worry. My dad’s a big noble blah blah blah—he won’t miss this cash."

*Oh? Your dad’s a noble?* I hadn’t abused privilege in ages.

As their hands nearly grabbed Beren’s collar, I snatched a bottle from the table.

No more waiting. Beren wasn’t setting a trap—she was genuinely terrified. I knew her too well.

"A-ah! Y-you’re back?!"

Beren’s eyes lit up at the sight of me. She scrambled to stand, rushing toward me—

*Thud.*

Her wrist was yanked back. Her hair ribbon fell to the floor.

"W-woah!"

"Beren! Hey! You four—scram before I make you."

Rage flooded my head, snuffing out any urge to joke.

One slick-faced guy stepped forward, blocking my path.

*Beren… I finally get why you hate humans.*

*So as compensation…*

"Hah!? You know who our young master is?! He’s—"

***CRACK!***

"Extras don’t get introductions."

I tossed the broken bottle aside. The "young master" who’d grabbed Beren crumpled, dazed.

Pulling Beren close, I took a deep breath for the coming "exercise."

"Sorry I took so long, Beren. Leave these disobedient students to me."