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Chapter 30
The Protagonists’ Teacher Wants to Quit
16. The Value of Power (2)
But then—
“Noel? What are you doing?”
What was wrong with him all of a sudden?
Lucien lightly grabbed Noel’s shoulder and shook him.
“What? Why are you fine— I clearly just attacked—!”
The boy who opened his eyes looked utterly terrified.
The boldness he’d shown on the first day of term—when he’d blown the classroom door off its hinges—was nowhere to be seen. His widened eyes darted nervously as he gauged Lucien’s reaction.
“What are you so shocked about?” Lucien said calmly. “I told you before. You can’t use magic in my classroom.”
Had he never really used attack magic before?
Thinking back on all the trouble Noel had caused so far, Lucien realized it was true. Most of his incidents involved flinging things around, erasing them, or dispelling something and making people furious. He had never actually used offensive magic.
“Of course, if you really tried, you could probably break through. But an unintentional mistake like this is fine. I am the adult here—and the teacher.”
“A mistake…?”
Pale fear washed over the boy’s face. Lucien quickly stepped in front of him, shielding him.
Then she smiled casually at the murmuring students.
“As you just saw, barrier magic blocks specific targets within the caster’s domain. A well-known example is the Grand Barrier called Vertesia’s Veil, which was designed to prevent demons from invading. However, as we learned during the last war, even such barriers can collapse at any time.”
Lucien withdrew the magic completely.
“That’s why you—who are the future of the Empire—need to study hard. The more skilled the mage, the wider the area they can control, the more precise the control, and the longer they can maintain it.”
After delivering her explanation like a rapid storm, Lucien offered what every student considered a teacher’s greatest virtue.
“That’s all for today. No homework.”
Crash—bang!
Desks and chairs scraped loudly as students leapt to their feet.
“Waaah! I love you, Teacher!”
“Teacher Lucien is the best!”
“Teacher, where are you?! I can only see light!”
Students freed from the hell of ever-compounding homework—like interest on a loan shark’s debt—cheered as if they’d met a savior.
As they poured out of the classroom without looking back, Lucien turned to Noel.
“Noel?”
The boy had collapsed to the floor, hands clamped over his ears.
The voice calling his name sounded distant, as if coming from far away.
Instead of his teacher’s gentle voice, a different, vivid voice echoed in his mind.
“Noel, your power is our future.”
Was great power inherently evil?
Ever since the Mage Tower had been built, that question had sparked the fiercest debates—now centered around a single boy.
If a power strong enough to surpass evil existed, couldn’t it become good?
Place the strongest in the strongest position.
Ensure the first oath and the magic itself would endure forever.
The pain and bloodshed left behind by war pushed mages toward that conclusion.
Instead of a control collar meant to restrain an S-rank threat, the symbol of the Mage Tower was placed around the boy’s neck.
A child who knew neither his parents nor his own identity grew up bearing the hopes, expectations, and obsessions of every mage.
Noel’s world was filled with overwhelming power—and bound by obligations he didn’t even understand.
To ensure those obligations were fulfilled efficiently, the Mage Tower taught him many things.
“The future Tower Master must understand exactly what kind of power he possesses.”
Screams and chaos.
Acrid smoke and crimson flames licking the air.
The warmth of someone’s body in his hands—and the sensation of it turning cold and stiff.
Hands soaked in something sticky.
“Experience is the greatest teacher. You will never again doubt your own power.”
That dozens of people had died for that realization, or that the boy had been forced to understand that killing with his own hands was not an illusion but reality—none of that mattered to them.
“Remember this: a mage’s power comes from coolly judging their own ability and trusting it completely.”
Because the boy—and his power—were their future.
Humanity was a species that could justify anything, as long as it was for a “better future.”
“Noel Efron. Look at me.”
Warm hands cupped his cheeks, and the boy lifted his head.
“See? I’m fine. Breathing normal. Pulse normal. Body temperature normal. Mana flow normal.”
His homeroom teacher knelt in front of him, calmly listing off her own vitals.
Her pale, clear face—like winter sunlight—and her steady voice were no different from usual.
She’s alive.
Her gaze met his directly.
The softness of her skin, the warmth in her hands—
All unmistakably signs of a living person.
She didn’t die… I didn’t kill her.
Relief slowly spread through Noel’s rigid body.
“You can count, right? Slowly.”
One, two, three…
As he followed the numbers in his head, he realized they’d already passed fifty.
Feeling the cold sweat on his hands finally dry, Noel spoke.
“I’m okay now. Really.”
“Can you stand?”
“What do you think I am, some kind of—”
“They opened an Ethics of Language course this semester.”
Even now, his teacher didn’t hesitate to threaten him.
Noel surrendered, raising both hands, and stood up on his own.
Lucien didn’t reach out to help. She only offered a quiet apology.
“I’m sorry for forcing you to use attack magic.”
“That’s not why this happened.”
…It’s because I thought you might die.
Whether she heard his muttered words or not, Lucien didn’t respond.
He had no intention of giving up magic. It was his identity—his very foundation.
But he hated killing people.
Death came too easily, yet once it arrived, it was unbearably heavy and irreversible.
Impulsively, Noel asked Lucien—
Because she was standing there, claiming to be his teacher.
“Is it really okay for someone like me—who could kill dozens of people in an instant—to become the Mage Tower’s successor? Are they all insane?”
It was a bitter, self-mocking, irritable question.
Lucien picked up the staff Noel had dropped.
When it returned to its owner, it flashed once, then fell silent.
“You’re right that your magic is dangerous. But people can die even without attack magic.”
“…!”
“When you broke the wall at the Northern Tower, guards could’ve been hurt. If you’d jumped down, you, Beatrice, and Estelle would’ve been injured.”
Or killed.
Noel looked stunned.
Was that too harsh on a kid who just had a panic attack?
But digging straight ahead was better than blindly tunneling the wrong way.
Lucien finished justifying herself instantly.
Speaking as someone who perfectly embodied the idea that “people can die without attack magic,” she warned him firmly.
“What you need to be careful of isn’t your power itself, but how you use it—and how you judge situations. That’s what you’re here to learn. That’s why teachers exist.”
Excluding herself from that group entirely, Lucien paused, then lowered her gaze to meet Noel’s eye level and sighed softly.
“But if you’re still worried, I’ll tell you a secret.”
“…What secret?”
“My innate mana is ‘blockage.’ It has the property of stopping or cutting off all flows, which makes it perfect for barrier magic.”
“…! Wh—Why would you tell me that?!”
Noel shouted without thinking.
For a mage to reveal their innate mana to someone else was to expose the foundation, origin, and even weaknesses of their magic.
Is this teacher insane?! What if I decided to do something to her?! Is she crazy?!
What kind of person is this defenseless?
Ironically, Noel was more upset than the one who’d just revealed her secret.
So stunned that all his lingering dread evaporated, he bristled in disbelief.
Lucien, meanwhile, looked completely unconcerned.
“So don’t worry. Unless you deliberately decide to hurt me, I won’t die just because you’re a little less exceptional than you think. That’s also why I took responsibility for you.”
It wasn’t gentle or affectionate—just a calm statement of fact.
The kind of confidence only someone stating an obvious truth could possess.
“Remember: a mage’s power comes from coolly judging their own ability and trusting it completely.”
Noel felt a deeper sense of defeat than he had on the first day of school.
But unlike then, he wasn’t angry.
“…You really know your personality is weird, right?”
No empathy. No comfort. Just lectures—followed by casually laying bare her greatest secret.
Not patting him, not helping him up—just staying beside him, endlessly counting numbers.
She’s seriously a strange person.
