After leaving the Ancient Potion classroom, Muen returned to his dorm, took a quick shower, changed clothes, then scarfed down a rushed breakfast in the cafeteria before jogging all the way to the Magic Theory classroom.

And then—he was shocked.

Outside the classroom door, a massive crowd had gathered, practically sealing off the entire hallway.

As soon as they saw Muen, the crowd erupted into noise.

“He’s here, he’s here!”

“Muen Campbell is here!”

“..."

“Aren’t these people supposed to be taking the exam too?”

Muen scanned the crowd, then glanced at the time—roughly fifteen minutes remained before the test began.

Normally, this would be the time when everyone slowly filed into the classroom to wait or scrambled to flip through their notes one last time. Why did it look more like a fan meet?

“Don’t tell me... they’re all here to watch the show?”

That thought struck Muen, and the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily.

He remembered what Senior Anna had said—the rumors had spread through the whole academy...

Were these people really prioritizing spectacle over the exam itself?

“This kind of attention... feels like I’m walking the red carpet or something.”

With countless eyes on him, Muen braced himself and pushed through the crowd toward the classroom.

His upbringing as a duke’s son meant he could still carry himself with grace under pressure, but even so, as he passed by, he couldn’t help but catch the whispers leaking from all around.

“Wow, Muen Campbell really showed up to take the exam. After all that talk, doesn’t he care about embarrassing himself?”

“If he didn’t show up, he’d look even worse. Running away before the test would be even more pathetic.”

“True, but... he does look kinda confident.”

“Hah, he’s faking it. With his level? No way he’s scoring eighty. He’d be lucky to get eight.”

“Hey, that’s harsh. I heard he’s been trying really hard lately...”

“Trying doesn’t mean anything. I try all the time and still fail.”

“Pfft, fair enough.”

“...”

Muen walked in silence, not bothering to argue back—because he knew that arguing now wouldn’t change anything.

Results. That was the only response to prejudice and gossip.

All he could do now... was give this exam everything he had.

And yet...

“It’s still kind of infuriating.”

Muen lowered his gaze, fists unconsciously tightening.

But then—

“Muen!”

A shout rang out.

It sounded like a young girl’s voice, raw and strained like she was yelling with everything she had, even cracking a little from the force.

In the middle of the noisy crowd, it still came through clearly.

Startled, Muen lifted his head and looked in the direction of the voice.

“You’ve got this, Muen! We believe in you!”

“You’re totally getting that eighty!”

“Wreck those jerks who look down on you!”

“Go, go! I bet all my allowance this month on you—you have to win!”

There, in the most visible spot, were three clearly first-year girls shouting at the top of their lungs, faces flushed bright red. They were waving a little banner with the characters for Go Muen! and wearing white headbands with his name scrawled in bold red letters like a trio of bandit mascots. Their wild energy crashed straight into Muen’s vision, and for some reason, his eyes stung a little.

“You three...”

His brain couldn’t quite catch up. He had no idea what these strange little creatures were—but something about them made it feel like the whole world had gotten just a bit brighter.

Beside them stood Senior Fanny from the Magic Arts Club—someone he’d only met once before—watching with a wry, helpless smile.

“Muen Campbell, I ended up betting quite a bit on you too thanks to these three little tyrants. You better follow through.”

“I...”

Muen froze for a beat, then nodded hard.

“I will!”

Then he looked at the three girls, who looked like they might pass out just from making eye contact with him.

“I absolutely will.”

Yes.

There was nothing left to be angry about.

No matter how people viewed him, no matter how little they believed in him—

The truth was, Muen had poured his entire heart into this past month.

So regardless of what anyone said, what he had to do now... was show them the results of that effort.

Effort never lies.

Serious study. Endless problem sets. Sleeping only two hours a day...

None of that would betray him.

And so Muen lifted his head, straightened his back, and with the steady steps of a future Duke of Campbell bearing the full weight of his family's pride, walked into the classroom—

Walked onto his battlefield.

...

...

After Muen left, the crowd lapsed into brief silence—then erupted again.

“Whoa, he really does look confident. Crap, I bet a lot of money he’d flunk!”

“Chill, it’s definitely just for show. Don’t forget, he’s a noble—they’re all good at acting like that.”

“Speaking of which, he is a duke’s son. What if he found some way to cheat? Like bribing the proctor or something?”

“Now that you mention it... yeah, that might explain it. Otherwise, how could a guy who scored a three last semester be this confident?”

“Then what do we do? Our bets...”

“Ahem—”

A loud cough cut through the noise, instantly silencing the crowd.

All the gossiping students suddenly felt as if a massive shadow had fallen over them.

Like dark storm clouds were rolling in.

“The exam is about to begin. What exactly are you all doing here?!”

And then—thunder.

A stern-faced elderly man stood at the entrance of the corridor, a bundle of test papers tucked under one arm. His glare swept across the entire group like a blade of fire.

“Do you want me to wipe out your credits?”

“It’s Professor Prang!”

“What the—why is he here?”

“Is he the proctor? No way, a professor of his stature wouldn’t stoop to that...”

“Run! He’s pissed!”

The doubt lasted only a second before the crowd scattered like birds.

Even Senior Fanny had to drag the three little fangirls away, who clearly wanted to wait and cheer Muen again when the exam ended.

Professor Prang’s sternness and fearsome authority were legendary across the entire academy.

...

...

Inside the classroom.

Muen sat quietly at his seat.

At this point, there was no use flipping through ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) his notes anymore. He emptied his mind, steadied his breathing, and waited silently for the exam to begin.

The other students entered in small waves, and nearly all of them glanced at Muen as they passed. Compared to the exam itself, more people seemed invested in whether Muen Campbell could back up his outrageous claim from a month ago.

“Due to Professor Fulan falling ill, I’ll be administering this exam myself,” announced Professor Prang as he appeared at the podium—bringing, for many students, a stroke of bad luck.

“Ughhh—”

A chorus of groans filled the room. If Professor Fulan were here, a few students might’ve hoped for some... creative workarounds.

But with this famously strict and rigid Prang?

Trying to cheat under the watch of a Crowned-tier professor? What are you, suicidal?

Even Muen was a little surprised. A professor of Prang’s rank shouldn’t normally be overseeing a second-year test.

“Is Professor Fulan really sick?”

Muen scratched his head but didn’t dwell on it.

“What’s with all the groaning? If you’re taking this seriously, what difference does the proctor make?”

Professor Prang’s cold eyes scanned the room as he sneered.

“I hope some of you can drop whatever shady little thoughts you’ve been brewing. Otherwise, if I catch you...”

He trailed off—then shot a very pointed glance at Muen.

“...”

The corner of Muen’s mouth twitched. Do I really look like the type to cheat, Professor?

Still, he pushed aside the irritation.

Just as Prang said—if you’re serious about the test, who’s proctoring it doesn’t matter.

And then, the bell rang.

The exam began.

Muen picked up his pen and started writing.

His eyes scanned the questions in rapid succession. Almost instinctively, the knowledge he’d carved deep into his brain came flooding out, flowing through the pen in wave after wave.

Time stretched—or maybe it shrank.

The classroom was silent, broken only by the scratch of pens. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

And then even those sounds faded. Muen could only feel the pale sheets of his test paper gradually being covered in ink.

The bell rang again, snapping him out of his trance.

A withered hand pressed down on his completed exam.

“Muen Campbell, you may go.”

Professor Prang said quietly—his eyes betraying a flicker of shock and... pity.

“The exam is over.”