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Chapter : 09
6. This Is the Class Assignment? (2)
“What are we going to do… you went through that trouble last year, and now again this year….”
‘…What did I do wrong? Why is this happening… why is the world doing this to me?’
A memory of what the dean had said earlier suddenly popped into her empty mind.
‘Thanks to you, I got a perfect sense of it!’
That “sense”…
‘I decided to leave that class to you! Haven’t you seen the assignment list yet? Haha, you don’t have to thank me. Exceptional people deserve treatment that matches their talent!’
That class… was this? The dean was insane—this was what he called a class assignment…
‘Why don’t you come and teach it yourself!’
“Princess and the Viscount of Münster haven’t completed the basic curriculum yet, right? Why are they already in the advanced class…?”
“They finished early. It seems their goal is early graduation.”
Lucien, having failed to remove the two from her responsibility, clung to a futile hope and asked again.
“Princess Arche took a leave due to illness, right?”
“Well, it seems she’s returning this year.”
Of all years, they had to be unusually diligent in their studies this year.
She read the list again.
“I don’t recall seeing this student, the candidate for sainthood, in the basic class last year. Could this list be wrong?”
At this point, the other teachers shook their heads, looking at her as if she had just received a terminal diagnosis and was refusing reality.
“Haven’t you heard? There’s a student who transferred into the advanced class through a special program. That’s her.”
Ah… the temple must have had some influence. But why this year, of all years?
She silently continued checking the rest of the names. There were no more objections to raise. The only name that caught her attention was that of the precious heir being nurtured as the next head of the Magic Tower.
‘…Last year, the teacher for that class took the same disguise potion as me.’
“Stay strong, teacher.”
“Yes, Lucien. It’ll be fine. After all, it wasn’t just the Grand Duke’s class last year…?”
“Right. I asked last year’s homeroom teachers, and both Her Highness and the Viscount of Münster were exemplary top students.”
“The rest of the class doesn’t seem bad either. If you have trouble organizing the classroom, let us know—we’ll come help.”
“When I saw the transfer documents last week, the candidate for sainthood seemed kind and gentle as well. The temple might fuss a bit, but it should be fine.”
Everyone approached to console her, but no one offered to take over the class.
“Next week is the counseling period, and you want me to schedule sessions based on this list…? With the royal family, the dukes, the Magic Tower, and the temple all at the same time…?”
“…….”
Lucien stared blankly at the ceiling.
‘I just want to go home….’
But it wasn’t a home she could simply go to. Ignoring the pitying glances, she trudged to the campus café looking like a walking corpse.
Ever since two years ago, a craze for the unfamiliar drink “coffee” had spread from the capital throughout the Empire, and cafés specializing in coffee began appearing on every street.
Even Aten, the dean of Noctua who loved money above all else, had jumped on the trend and installed a café inside the school—one for students, one for staff.
As a result, the teachers were engaged in a bizarre economic cycle: spending their entire salaries right back at the café.
It couldn’t be helped. They, especially Lucien, had become incapable of working without coffee.
“Just as you always order… Do you want it sweet?”
“Yes… lots of chocolate, plenty of cream, and syrup too, please.”
“You seem very tired.”
“It’s the first day of classes tomorrow… I wish the semester would end quickly…”
“Philonia-sensei, this year too—ah!”
The manager, taking her order politely, startled and dropped his pen.
Lucien’s gaze fell on the space behind her, and she turned to see Chester standing there.
She remembered, belatedly, that she had asked Chester to meet her here after a short meeting. The shock from the class assignment had left her dazed.
“Duke, don’t you usually move around without being noticed?”
“I hear that often.”
Given his line of work, it made sense.
She glanced at the notice stating “One menu per person, please,” neatly written next to the cups, and asked Chester,
“Do you have a preferred drink?”
“Not particularly.”
It didn’t seem like he would purposely visit a crowded café. He had also stayed at the banquet hall rejecting the crowd with his entire presence.
“Hot or cold?”
“……Hot, please.”
She noticed his preferences were unusually clear. Perhaps he disliked cold drinks? Even his clothing looked excessively warm.
Conversely, Lucien, who disliked heat, enjoyed the almost imperceptible chill emanating from him.
She ordered her usual sugar-laden coffee that could barely be distinguished from chocolate, and for Chester, she ordered chamomile tea.
His eyes were dark like someone sleep-deprived, so coffee or tea didn’t seem particularly suitable.
“Here are your drinks.”
The drinks were unusually precise, almost excessively so.
Even leaving aside the chocolate and cream mountain on hers, Chester’s drink was served in an entirely different cup.
In a school café, such high-end teaware seemed out of place, fit for a high noble’s tea party.
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“Please tell the manager that I accidentally stepped on my own foot earlier and screamed, not that I screamed upon seeing Your Grace…”
Living was really that hard.
Lucien gave a kind smile to the trembling manager, telling him not to worry, but then faced a dilemma.
‘…Was it always this heavy?’
For someone who could barely hold her own cup, lifting all the teaware at once was impossible.
She stared at the tray, thinking she’d need to give her maids extra allowance when she got home.
Frowning in concern, she noticed the manager gasp again and lean backward.
Just as she wondered if her expression had shocked him that much, a hand reached out from behind.
“Give it here.”
“How did you know?”
“Could I not?”
“Next time, even if you know, please pretend you don’t.”
“……Next time.”
Lucien took Chester, who had fallen silent in thought, to their usual spot, poured tea into his cup, and gulped her ultra-sweet drink in one go.
Her exhausted mind regained energy.
“This is my favorite spot in Noctua. Only staff are allowed, so we won’t run into students.”
“You come here often?”
“Yes. At the start and end of each semester, especially on days like today. Do you know which students are under my care this year?”
Lucien, having drained more than half her overly sweet drink, finally began to chatter with regained vigor.
“…So not only the royal family and two dukes, but also the Magic Tower and the temple! Isn’t that too much? Dean, you must have disappeared in a hurry earlier because of this, right?”
Chester tapped the table with his fingers.
Even someone unfamiliar would find the selection of students suspicious.
The royal family and dukes, fine, but the Magic Tower? And even the temple?
‘A candidate for sainthood…’
The previous famed saint, who could see all things, left only prophecies and died suddenly. After ten years, they finally found a candidate for sainthood.
Though a commoner, she was said to possess extraordinarily strong divine powers. Beyond that, nothing was known.
Whether that was true or not was uncertain.
“Anyway, that should cover all the Noctua guidance. Anything else you want to know?”
Bathed in sunset light, Lucien’s pale platinum hair glowed with reddish tones.
Chester paused, as if a fragment of a memory long buried had resurfaced.
“Your Grace?”
“……Ah, just a fleeting thought.”
“From the day after tomorrow, you can hold classes at the Dark Forest or the Misty Lake practice grounds I showed earlier. I think it’d be better if you discuss with the dean to reduce the number of classes…”
“That’s fine.”
Lucien’s eyes drooped slightly.
‘I don’t think it’s fine.’
Suddenly, she realized that Chester hadn’t even touched the cup in front of him.
