SPO 41

From ages eight to sixteen.

The children varied in height and build as if someone had lined up different kinds of pencils side by side—but there was no disagreement on one point: every single one of them was grimy.

Greasy hair from not washing for days, worn-out clothes, and even the smell.

The students who had joined out of curiosity instinctively stepped back, glancing at one another.

“What exactly are we sponsoring by supporting kids like these? This isn’t sponsorship—it’s charity.”

It was understandable that they hesitated to get close.

The surprising thing is, these kids aren’t even the poorest of the poor.

To avoid creating too stark a contrast between the Judea students and the children, we had excluded those without homes who wandered the streets.

The children before us all had confirmed identities and homes. At least one of their parents had a steady income.

Even so, that still doesn’t close the gap that feels as wide as heaven and earth.

I silently thanked Janet for helping properly screen the candidates and looked over the children again.

They fidgeted awkwardly, wriggling their fingers and toes.

We should hurry up with introductions and get started—

Just then, Izael strode toward the seated children.

As his silver hair slipped from behind his ear and cascaded softly over his cheek, the children stared blankly at the shimmering strands.

“Before we begin class, let’s start by getting clean.”

He clapped once in midair. A faint purple smoke curled up and enveloped the children.

Inside the cloudlike vapor came the bubbling sound of boiling water and the whoosh of rushing wind in quick succession.

When the mist finally dispersed, clean children stood in its place.

“Woooow!”

“I feel all fluffy!”

“How did you do that?”

The children spun around, inspecting themselves in disbelief at their sudden transformation.

Realizing that magic had swept over them, their eyes sparkled as they crowded around Izael.

“A wizard! It’s magic!”

“Teach me magic too!”

“Ha ha, follow me.”

Looking down at the small children who barely reached his waist, Izael smiled with curved eyes.

Like the Pied Piper, he began to walk off with the children trailing behind him in a long string—

“Hold it.”

We’d already assigned groups. He couldn’t just drag them off however he pleased.

I calmed the excited children and had them sit back down.

Thankfully, Izael’s magic had eased the stiff atmosphere.

To think Izael could actually be helpful.

I shot him a grateful look and began explaining to the children.

“Hello. I’m Archel Nodovan. I’ll briefly explain how the Talent Class works, so please listen carefully. As you know, the Talent Class meets three times a week—Monday, Wednesday, and Friday…”

The subjects we would teach included Imperial language, history, economics, magic, mathematics, art, music, physical training, and etiquette.

The structure was simple.

Judea students would form groups of four and rotate time spent with the children.

Of course, creating the schedule hadn’t been easy.

First-years would handle ages eight to ten, second-years eleven to thirteen, and third-years fourteen to sixteen.

The number of children selected matched the number of Judea students who had volunteered from each grade.

Whether it would run smoothly remained to be seen.

…Yet contrary to my worries, the children adapted rather quickly.

Maybe because they were still young?

Aside from understanding that their teachers held higher status than I did, they didn’t seem to feel a significant gap and quickly closed the distance.

For example—Rihat.

“Teacher, you’re handsome but your hair looks like an apple!”

“No, it’s paprika!”

“Ew, paprika tastes bad.”

“Apple or paprika, either way, how about focusing now? It seems like you have motors attached to your mouths.”

“How can a motor be attached to your mouth? Teacher, you’re weird.”

“If your teeth are bad, you have to go to the dentist!”

“Ha…”

The children, unaware that Rihat was the Crown Prince, freely teased his red hair.

Even if they had known… I wasn’t sure it would’ve made much difference.

As for Rena—

I had worried whether she, who radiated an untouchable aura, would manage well with children.

That concern turned out to be pointless as well.

They say a beautiful face wins every battle—no wonder the kids adore her!

The children behaved politely, as though in front of a respected teacher, so Rena didn’t have to struggle the way Rihat did.

Aben and Kassel were awkward too—it was their first time teaching anyone—but their earnestness was pleasant to see.

Then what about the most concerning figure here—Izael?

I’d worried he might corrupt these pure children with something scandalously inappropriate, but perhaps because it was the first day—

He concealed his true nature and simply smiled with a genial face.

More than anything, he was wildly popular with the children.

By freely showing off various bits of magic, he had successfully captured their attention.

“…Am I being too prejudiced?”

“Teacher, what does ‘prejudiced’ mean?”

A child who had been listening raised their hand high.

“Hm? Prejudice means having a biased way of thinking. In simple terms, it’s not seeing something as it is and instead judging it based on your own assumptions.”

Seizing the opportunity, I wrote the word prejudice on the board.

“Now, let’s copy the word we just learned.”

After only a short period of hesitation, the children shed their wariness with their natural innocence and immersed themselves in class.

It might have been closer to play than study.

“Teacher, catch me!”

“Ha ha, you’re too fast to catch!”

“Eeeek!”

During the noisy break time, Izael lifted a child who had been running down the corridor into the air with magic, lectured them about not running in the hallway, and then sent them floating off.

Is flying in the hallway any better?

Lost in deep contemplation, I approached him.

“Izael, do you like kids?”

I glanced at his silver hair, now disheveled from being tugged by small hands.

“No. Why would you think that?”

No?

He calmly drank water, looking almost absurdly indifferent.

“You’re good to them. You play with them really well.”

“Is there any reason not to?”

As I folded my arms, trying to persuade him, he poured more water and hummed.

“I simply find it interesting. That such pure evil, over time, becomes astonishingly insidious and refined evil—the axis that sickens the world.”

He turned fully toward me.

“Isn’t it delightful?”

How could someone be this gloomy?

I opened and closed my mouth, speechless, when the sound of rapid footsteps echoed from afar.

A moment later, something bumped into Izael’s back.

“S-sorry!”

A child peeked out from behind him, fidgeting nervously.

Their timid gaze lingered on Izael’s damp chest, wet from spilled water.

Fortunately, Izael didn’t get angry.

Instead, he gently scolded the child and sent them back to class.

“Oh dear, I’m soaked.”

Only after the child disappeared down the hallway did he look down at his damp clothes with a slight frown.

“Stay here. I’ll go get something to wipe that.”

I turned to head to the staff room, but Izael stared at me.

His violet eyes, filled with curiosity, almost looked innocent.

Tilting my head, I followed his gaze to my chest.

A white handkerchief with gold trim peeked out of my pocket.

It was the one I’d been carrying to return to Johan.

“Th-this is…”

I’d already washed it.

Flustered, I stammered, when Izael pointed at my chest with his index finger.

“There it is. Something to wipe with.”

His smiling eyes clearly pressured me.

Reluctantly, I pulled it out.

It’s just water, not juice… I can wash it again and return it, right?

Still, it felt shameless.

Maybe I should just buy a new one and gift it instead.

While I was thinking, Izael elegantly dabbed the moisture away.

“Are you worried it’ll wear out?”

Noticing my wavering eyes, he shook the damp handkerchief as if snapping laundry.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it fluffy and brand new with magic.”

“That’s a relief—! Wait, if you could do that, you could’ve just dried your clothes in the first place!”

Realizing the obvious, I shouted. Izael tilted his head with an infuriating expression.

“My choice. I’ll dry it now, so don’t get heated.”

Given his magic, restoring the handkerchief like new was certainly possible.

Still… maybe I should buy a new one and give it together?

“You must treasure it. Is it from some famous brand? The material is quite different.”

He placed the handkerchief on his palm as if about to cast a spell.

Unfortunately, there was no brand logo anywhere on the gold-embroidered edge.

Meaning I couldn’t buy an identical one.

With a sigh, I reached out my hand.

“It’s not mine—it’s Johan’s. I’ve been carrying it to return.”

So before Johan Derial, who was currently teaching children somewhere nearby, saw this scene—

But contrary to my hopes, Izael froze.

He blinked his long lashes repeatedly, as though he’d heard something he shouldn’t have.

“Johan? Surely you don’t mean Johan Derial?”

“That Johan Derial.”

Was there another Johan at the academy?

Pushing aside the question, I waited for him to use magic—but he didn’t move.

“Izael, what are you doing?”

Sensing the sudden silence, I looked up at him—and shivered.

His violet eyes gleamed sharply.

He wasn’t looking at me anymore.

His gaze wandered through the air as though tracking something invisible, before slowly returning.

“I see.”

Murmuring as if to himself, he licked his lips and curved his eyes.

And then—

“Ahhh! Izael, what are you doing?!”

The handkerchief burst into flames.

The fire flared intensely before vanishing like a magic trick.

Staring blankly at where it had been, I finally screamed.

J-Johan’s handkerchief!

As I covered my mouth in despair, Izael grinned.

“Ah. My mistake.”