"What are you doing here? Do you even know where this is?" An Imperial soldier stationed at the gate barked through the iron bars. Today wasn’t a permitted day for students to leave or return to campus, and Yedi had been standing outside far too long.

Clad in dark steel plate armor and a half-helm, with deep blue cloth guards on his limbs, the soldier gripped a polished steel glaive and wore a broadsword at his waist—gear of exceptional quality.

"It’s me," Yedi replied flatly.

"What? Who the bloody hell are you? Get lost! No loitering here. Move it! Can’t you hear?" The towering, muscular soldier snarled. Only battle-hardened nobles’ kin or fiercely loyal retainers guarded the Imperial Sacred Academy.

"You don’t recognize me?" Yedi had already confirmed his transformed face in the carriage mirror—it was identical to before. "Then fetch an officer who does. I won’t waste words on you."

Elite Imperial soldiers earned their arrogance. Even now, hollowed out and trapped in a boy’s form, Yedi—still Tiyi at his core—couldn’t be bothered with such grunts.

(Though truthfully, his current body was undeniably male in every physical aspect.)

"Do you think just anyone gets to see our commander? Prove your identity!" The soldier’s war-tested instincts flared; this stranger hadn’t flinched.

Footsteps approached. Another soldier spotted Yedi from dozens of paces away and sprinted over, bowing low.

"Master Swordsman?!" he gasped.

"Fool, step aside!" He shoved his comrade aside and bowed deeply to Yedi. "Master, my deepest apologies! He’s new—he doesn’t know you."

"But who is he—"

"Silence! Open the gate! He’s our greatest swordmaster!"

"What?!"

In the Empire, martial prowess reigned supreme. At its pinnacle—the Holy Academy, where Church and war forged elites—being called the "greatest swordmaster" meant shaking the Empire itself.

The gates groaned open.

"Master Swordsman, I’m so sorry… You’ve been away, and this new fool—" The soldier, Thomson, kept bowing. "I’m Thomson! Last year, your single tip helped me defeat my cousin and claim my inheritance. All thanks to you! It’s wonderful to have you back…"

The other soldier froze, head bowed, praying to be ignored.

The constant "Master" soothed Yedi—yet beneath it, a quiet ache lingered.

Because Tiyi was no longer a master. She was a lady now.

"Shall I still show my credentials?" Yedi asked.

"Ah—no! Forgive me! Of course not! Please, go ahead, Master!" Thomson pressed his companion’s helmet down in frantic apology.

He only knew Yedi as the Academy’s top sword instructor. He had no idea this man was a living legend of the Holy Demon War. Had he known, Thomson would’ve bragged about it for life.

The Imperial Sacred Academy clung to the mountainside—a cluster of interconnected castles ringed by defensive walls on one side, sheer cliffs on the other. Training grounds, arenas, and chapels dotted the terrain.

Yedi walked the quiet, ancient mountain path. Mottled stone steps. Fallen leaves carpeting the slopes. Moss-crawled boulders in the woods. Memories surfaced with every step.

To walk here again—as a boy—along these soul-soothing trails where mountain winds seemed to cleanse the mundane… A rare comfort. One he hadn’t felt in ages.

*I must see the Chairman first.*

Among the Academy’s many luminaries, Chairman Koushou was the only one Tiyi truly respected—and found hardest to handle.

Once merely a sword instructor, Yedi had held a unique position under her direct oversight.

"Oversight" wasn’t quite right. They’d been partners. Almost friends.

He reached the highest castle, perched near the cliff’s edge.

Her office lay in the tower’s upper floors.

Gripping his large suitcase, Yedi traversed the castle’s wide, aged corridors to a heavy door. He took a slow breath. Dealing with her had always been difficult. Now, burdened with secrets, it felt impossible.

He knocked.

"Enter."

The door swung open. A maid in black-and-white uniform stood aside—impeccable posture, chestnut-red hair cropped short, her figure impossible to ignore despite her restraint.

The office was spacious, shadowed, filled with unassuming yet priceless artifacts.

A tall, mature woman stood by the window in dark red noble hunting attire. Her pale auburn hair fell past her waist. Beyond the glass, mist-swathed mountains stretched into the distance.

"Chairman." Yedi stood several paces behind her.

Baroness Koushou Hornheit—Chairman and Headmistress of the Imperial Sacred Academy—was a legend even in the vast Empire.

"You’ve finally… returned." Her voice was smooth, controlled. She turned slightly, the curve of her waist flaring into hips both rounded and powerfully built—a mature woman’s magnetism. "As Chairman, may I ask why my most vital swordmaster vanished without word for months?"

"I… dealt with matters from my past." Yedi glanced back.

The maid, Gallilu, sealed the heavy door shut. She was no ordinary servant.

"…Matters involving the Succubus Queen, Selys."

A lie rings truest when half-truths anchor it.

Koushou turned fully, circling her massive desk toward him. She towered over Yedi’s slender frame; her hips alone seemed wider than his entire torso.

(Though against Tiyi’s form? That might’ve been different.)

Her warm golden hair framed a face of serene elegance. Narrow gold-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose. Her lips, glossed in subtle rose, curved with quiet allure.

She studied him for a long moment. Close, but not intrusively so. Her gaze made the world feel like her chessboard.

"Understood," she said, her voice like velvet.

"Won’t you press for details, Chairman?"

"I sense this isn’t ordinary. You’ll tell me what matters. Won’t you?"

Yedi gave a slight nod.

"And your plans now?" She stepped back, settling her generous hips onto the desk, legs stretching out long and elegant.

A scent of champagne-colored roses clung to her—intoxicating. Many students and faculty fantasized about her, but the Chairman seemed indifferent to men.

Yedi, among males, was exceptional.

Yet their rapport stayed politely distant. At most, a hair’s breadth beyond.

"Nothing special." Yedi shrugged—a gesture uncharacteristic of his usual self. "Return. Teach. Resume life."

"Hmm." Her hum held a spark of amusement. A slender finger tapped her chin. "Very well. But your salary for these months will be deducted."

"*Hah*." Yedi almost laughed. First hero of the Holy Demon War, granted lands he never visited or managed—taxes alone covered his needs. Salary meant nothing.

"When will you resume classes?" Koushou asked.

"Today."

"Oh? So decisive? Unlike the old you."

The words struck him. His boyish frame felt strangely sturdier. His will hardened by self-command. "Teaching *is* my respite."

"Heh. True enough." She pushed off the desk. "Your quarters remain untouched. I’ll inform the Vice-Chairman and Dean." She knew he hated bureaucracy.

"Thank you. One thing—I’ve lost my room key."

"Oh?" Her spectacles glinted. "What fierce battle made *you* lose a key?"

"Can you arrange a replacement?" Yedi sighed.

"Gallilu. Fetch Yedi a spare key. Then accompany him to his room—see what he requires."

"Yes, Chairman." Gallilu’s face stayed blank, as if "maid" were her entire identity.