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Chapter 13.
At that answer, the teaching assistants flinched. Demon Hunting Studies was a subject even seasoned veterans avoided at all costs.
Because of that, the TAs grew restless, and Kallon let out a dry laugh.
“So you must be confident you can catch a Firefly Demon, huh.”
Sneering voices followed, but Ruin didn’t care. Of course he didn’t—because there wasn’t much time left before his debt was due.
“Pay back everything with interest within 70 years. If you can’t, become a stuffed butterfly for me.”
That was what the demon lord had said.
And the loan period was—70 years.
Sure, 70 years sounds long.
The problem was that 20 years had already gone as a spy, and another 50 as a missing person. That was already 70 years combined! Which meant there was now less than a single year left to pay it back!
「Come on, surely they’ll subtract the years you were missing, right?」
‘He’s not that kind of guy.’
He was already itching to turn Ruin into a perfectly obedient stuffed butterfly.
「Well, you are kind of a rebellious sort.」
And now, in this situation, they were asking him to teach demons how to hunt demons? Was this a joke?
It was like telling a fish to “try swimming.”
Yet somehow, Kallon—with that seaweed hair—took it as something worth mocking and turned away laughing.
“Haven is a place countless professors dream of. I’ll look forward to the last class of the fastest-promoted professor.”
Once the professor disappeared to teach, Ruin turned to the teaching assistants.
“So I just start with the next lecture?”
Normally Ruin would have spoken politely at a first meeting, but since he was supposed to be a high noble, he needed to maintain an overbearing demeanor like Wayne. Fortunately, his acting seemed convincing.
“Ah, um… we’re the TAs assigned to that course…!”
“Demon Hunting Studies technically teaches from year one to year six, but upperclassmen go out on internship, so in reality you’ll only be handling the third years.”
Third years?
“You just said it was a course for all years.”
“Well…”
After exchanging awkward looks, the teaching assistants bowed deeply.
“We’ll send the class materials through Phrics!”
“Please, sir—don’t underestimate the students just because they’re students!”
With tearful voices, the TAs fled.
Ruin leaned his chin on his hand.
‘Hmm. Don’t underestimate the students? Are they telling me to be stricter because their level is high?’
Well, it wasn’t like professors at such a prestigious academy were kicked out for no reason.
‘Fine, then. I’ll raise the level even more.’
Soon, even the headmaster came to greet Ruin.
“I’ll tell you in advance: the students are… quite strong.”
Ruin grew even more serious.
Was he supposed to train them as active-duty combatants? They’d die at that rate.
Seeing Ruin’s puzzled look, the headmaster guided him toward the TA office and told him to pick up the school handbook.
When Ruin left, the administrative chief, who had stayed behind in the office, turned to the headmaster, his jaw practically hanging. He hadn’t been able to object since Kallon was there, but now…
“Headmaster, you know their objective. Why did you accept Professor Kallon’s suggestion?”
He seemed particularly shocked that the headmaster had entrusted Demon Hunting Studies to Ruin.
Of course he was.
“More importantly, Demon Hunting Studies is normally taught by the chief professor. It’s not a position just anyone can take.”
A professorship at Haven wasn’t simple. It was practically tied to imperial titles. A TA was equivalent to a knight granted ennoblement; even contract professors could hold administrative power. Associate professors could lead organizations, and full professors wielded the authority and rank of division commanders.
And once you reached chief professor, you gained privileges even higher, serving as the Hero’s aide. So it wasn’t a seat the nation could hand out lightly, and every professor coveted it.
Recently, the problem was that students had begun abusing that system to exert dominance.
‘Those students aren’t going to sit still.’
They were the so-called “Transcendent” candidates.
The top hero candidates received immense attention. They’d developed strange magic even professors couldn’t decipher, and recently, even underclassmen were learning it—enough to toy with professors. Since Demon Hunting Studies was Haven’s signature course, they acted up even more there.
Haven had practically given up, saying there wasn’t a single professor who could tame them, and planned to just wait until those ringleaders graduated.
“…Will this really be okay?”
“To be honest, I hope he can control them, but… I’m not expecting much.”
…Excuse me?
“Do you really think any professor could beat those students?”
…Then why?
“No one else was willing to take the job.”
They silently bowed their heads in mourning.
“What? A new professor for Demon Hunting Studies?”
Haven erupted in commotion.
It was natural. The Union contained countless schools, since the Empire and many nations were united.
Among them were the top “Five Great Academies,” each with its own famed plaque.
Haven, the most prominent, bore the plaque: “Unconquerable and Impregnable.” Its greatest symbol—that was Demon Hunting Studies.
Especially since it guaranteed the chief professorship, every professor coveted it.
“Who is it?”
“Ruinus Wayne.”
At those words, murmurs exploded instantly.
“Wayne?”
“Don’t tell me—that Wayne?”
Even without being among the Five Great Academies, members of any of the Eight Great Noble Houses of the Union were always featured in newsletters.
“Whoa, we’re actually seeing someone like that? If he’s the Wayne family heir, doesn’t that make him the successor? Maybe he really is strong.”
At that moment, someone snorted.
“Strong? Ruinus Wayne?”
“The year representative?”
“I heard it from seniors. The Wayne family’s eldest son is a shut-in coward, timid to the extreme.”
The eldest son of House Wayne was already pretty infamous among students. Probably because his comparison target was too exceptional.
“How useless do you have to be for the successor position to be handed to your little sister?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Wayne’s little sister is a genius. She’s chasing Firefly Demons right now, so the second son is acting as proxy heir in the meantime.”
As though the conclusion was obvious, students smirked.
“So, a parachute hire.”
Of course.
Noah, the third-year class rep, pushed his glasses up.
And the professors? They were all the same—no real skill, just all talk about catching Firefly Demons. That was why first and second years were being “personally” handled by students instead.
‘And now a new professor?’
Not that it mattered. They were stronger than the professors anyway.
Noah was about to start roll call for the first and second years on behalf of the professor when—
BANG!!
Students nearly had a heart attack. The lecture hall door slammed open like it was about to shatter.
No—more shocking than the door was the face of the person who walked in.
A… a mummy?
He looked like he’d become a serial killer if you just stuck a knife in his mouth.
As if trying to soften that terrifying aura, he was even holding a cute flower pot in one hand.
But even the adorable plant couldn’t erase the intensity surrounding him. His gaze was like that of a trained soldier—no, an officer.
Every other professor who had entered before had been careful of the students’ attitudes, but this man casually set the pot on the podium and spoke bluntly.
“Looks like some students are in the wrong class. If this isn’t your course, get out.”
His voice was annoyingly pleasant, yet more menacing than a grim reaper.
At his words, the first and second years began packing up, but the third years scoffed and blocked them.
“You’re the one who needs to leave, professor.”
“…Huh?”
“You haven’t heard? Demon Hunting Studies doesn’t need a professor.”
Ruin tilted his head.
“A pig’s trotter is talking. You can leave too.”
P-pig’s… trotter?
The student who’d spoken turned bright red. Noah, the class rep, pushed up his glasses.
“Excuse me, professor, but I heard your specialty is Healing Magic. Are you even qualified to teach this class?”
“What? Healing?”
As if on cue, laughter broke out across the room.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“A Healing magician is teaching Demon Hunting?”
“Pfft, he’ll break his nose chasing Firefly Demons.”
While third years sneered, the underclassmen could only dart their eyes nervously. They couldn’t even see Ruinus’s full face because of the bandages, but he looked like an executioner—and somehow, with only his eyes visible, the murderous glare was even clearer.
‘If I were him, I’d be furious too.’
‘He’ll probably give up and leave soon…’
But then—
A quiet chuckle.
It was Ruin.
Students froze.
‘H-he’s laughing?’
‘Not angry?’
But Ruin’s laugh was cold. Truthfully, he’d been facing a massive headache since morning.
Why? Because of the traits he inherited from Ruinus.
And why was that a problem?
【Innately Lazy】
Terribly lazy. Filled with sloth and indulgence. Because of that, he always finds the best method with the least effort. He always extracts maximum efficiency with minimal work, understands easily, and derives the optimal answer.
In short… Ruinus Wayne was a “lazy genius.”
And to get straight to the point, because of that damn trait, Ruin experienced fear for the first time in his life.
‘I open my eyes… and it’s five minutes before work starts.’
For a perfect spy, it was his first time facing the terror of an office worker.
He tried to get up right away, but—
【Incomprehensible Genius】
A genius under extreme stress has a high probability of sudden, irrational behavior.
Maybe the alarm stressed him too much—he slammed his head into the wall and fainted.
It wasn’t something he could resist by willpower. So to avoid getting fired, he sprinted what should’ve been a one-hour trip in five minutes…
‘…and still ended up late.’
And then the TAs at the gate started babbling nonsense like:
“Professor Wayne, when you go into class, please don’t really teach. Just… go along with them, okay?”
“More than ten professors have gone in confident and left humiliated.”
“They’re connected to the imperial family. If you make them mad, you’ll be the one who suffers…! In the end, a school is a service industry. Keep the students happy, play nice!”
Catering to bratty kids? What the hell?
So this is what they meant.
When they said the students were “strong”…
Yeah.
“They meant they’re rude brats.”
At that vicious smile, the students flinched.
