“It’s over?”

Bathed in sunlight, Muen stared blankly at Professor Prang inside the classroom.

It was like waking from a long dream. The contents of the exam had flashed by like movie credits, already fading from memory—but there was an odd sense of release in his chest. As if something had been set down. A strange, floating lightness.

“Yes, it’s over, Muen Campbell. You did well—better than I expected.”

Professor Prang’s eyes swept over the paper in front of Muen. His expression didn’t change, but his tone... seemed noticeably gentler.

He patted Muen on the shoulder and urged him:

“Hurry up and go. Don’t just stand there spacing out.”

“...Oh.”

Muen nodded blankly, then rose just as blankly.

He didn’t know how he left the classroom. He didn’t know how he passed through the crowd of onlookers. He didn’t even know how he returned to his dormitory.

By the time he came back to himself, he was already sitting at his desk, staring at his reflection in the mirror. For a very, very long time.

“So... what am I supposed to do now?”

Now that the goal he had chased so desperately had concluded—however briefly—Muen felt consumed by emptiness.

As if something inside him had gone missing. Hollow.

But he quickly snapped out of it.

“Do I even need to think about that?”

He murmured to himself.

In his gemlike blue eyes, the old fire had died down—but a new one had just been kindled.

“My goal is still far from achieved... right?”

And with that, his consciousness sank into the dark.

In that darkness appeared an assassin in a maid’s dress, and a naked man. Both of them resurfacing together.

“Been a month. I actually missed you.”

Muen snapped his fingers. “This long-awaited reunion deserves a brighter setting, don’t you think?”

The darkness vanished.

Sunlight poured down like blessing.

Muen stood basked in the infinite glow, twin blades in hand.

He grinned and said:

“Let’s see just how much I’ve degenerated this month.”

...

...

“Finished? You finished? Quick, let me see!”

After the exam ended, Professor Prang returned to his office with the stack of test papers—only to find it already packed with a crowd of nosy teachers.

Even Instructor Kaide, who usually scoffed at all things magic, was lurking in a corner, looking curious.

At this academy, gossip and rubbernecking weren’t just the domain of students.

The moment Professor Garan saw Prang walk in, he pounced without a shred of dignity to try and snatch the test papers from his hands.

“Can you people act like teachers for once?”

Prang slapped Garan’s hand away in annoyance.

“It’s one thing for the students to gossip—but you? What the hell is this?”

“Oh please, like you have any room to talk. You went and supervised the exam yourself, didn’t you?”

“I was making sure the exam was administered fairly!”

“Oh yeah? Then I guess you’re going to personally proctor every exam from now on?”

Garan whistled and didn’t seem fazed in the slightest by Prang’s irritation. Instead, while Prang was distracted, he reached out and snatched the papers away.

“Let’s see now—Muen Campbell, Campbell...”

He quickly sorted through the pile and precisely fished out Muen’s test, handing it to the sturdy-looking Professor Fulan next to him.

“Professor Fulan, quick—grade it! I need to see the result!”

“Uh... is that really okay...”

Professor Fulan hesitated, glancing uncertainly toward Prang.

Technically, grading early wouldn’t change the outcome, but it still wasn’t quite proper...

And Professor Prang was notoriously strict. He’d never tolerate bending the rules—

“Grade it.”

Contrary to expectations, Professor Prang gave in without resistance.

“This isn’t something worth getting hung up on.”

“...Huh?”

Even Garan was surprised now. He stared at Prang suspiciously for a long while.

“You’re acting weird. Did that Muen kid piss you off again or something?”

“Did he?”

Prang shot him a sideways look, still deadpan.

“Of course he did. You were never this easy to deal with before.”

“And you listened to me better when I wasn’t?”

“Heh. Fair enough.”

Garan didn’t press the point—because his attention had already shifted to the test in Fulan’s hands.

“Quick, Professor Fulan—go on, he already said it’s fine!”

“Ah, alright!”

Seeing Prang give the okay, Professor Fulan no longer hesitated. She immediately picked up Muen’s paper and began grading.

The other teachers crowded around her, equally curious.

As she worked, Garan let out a constant stream of running commentary:

“Ooh, he got all five of the first questions right? Not bad, kid’s got some chops.”

“Aww, he missed number six? That one was so easy...”

“Number thirteen probably stumped him. Bet that ate up a lot of his time.”

“Whoa... he left the last long-answer question blank. Smart move.”

It was only a 100-point exam—so not a lot of content. The grading didn’t take long.

And soon, the final score came into view.

The entire office fell silent.

Because every single teacher was staring at that number in silence.

Finally, after a long pause, one of them sighed and shook their head.

“Seventy-nine... what a shame.”

That’s right.

Seventy-nine.

That was the number now printed in bold red at the top of Muen’s paper.

Bright, unmistakable, and painfully real.

Just one point away from the line. But he hadn’t crossed it.

That one point hurt more than a gulf of ten ever could.

Even Garan, who had been chattering nonstop, went quiet when he saw it.

“...Guess you could call that bad luck.”

Because no one could say that a score of seventy-nine meant he lacked ability.

From three to seventy-nine.

Just comparing those two numbers, every teacher in the room could feel the amount of effort that blond boy had poured in over this past month.

He had built a miracle with his sweat and blood—something everyone had thought impossible.

And yet... that only made it more tragic.

That one point short—it was like a cruel joke from the god of fate.

“Give me the paper.”

As the room drowned in shared regret, Professor Prang suddenly reached out and took the test back.

His eyes scanned it rapidly—then stopped, focused on a specific part.

Pointing to the spot, he said:

“This was marked wrong. But it’s correct.”

“Eh?”

Professor Fulan blinked and followed his finger.

Her eyes widened. Her face instantly flushed red.

“Ah! You’re right—I’m so sorry, I marked it wrong! I must’ve been nervous with so many people watching me grade...”

“Fix it.”

Prang’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t sound angry.

He just stood there silently, watching her correct the answer and recalculate the total.

Not that any calculation was needed.

Seventy-nine plus one—any street beggar could do that math.

Eighty.

An excellent score.

The office went quiet again.

Just moments ago they’d been sighing in disappointment—but now, faced with the new number, they couldn’t help feeling shaken.

They were teachers of Saint Maria Academy—elite educators. They’d seen all kinds of students.

Some who once shone like stars only to burn out, or fall into depravity.

Some prodigal sons who finally woke up and slowly clawed their way back to the top.

But someone like that blond boy—who had exploded from a three to an eighty in just one month?

Frankly, none of them had ever seen that before.

“You could call this a miracle in the field of education.”

One teacher couldn’t help but sigh in awe.

“That’s Muen Campbell for you—no matter good or bad, he always leaves people speechless.”

“Wait a minute... didn’t he say he was going to do this a month ago?”

Someone else recalled and clicked their tongue.

“I heard the betting odds were twenty to one. Tsk, there’ll probably be a bunch of students ready to throw themselves off the roof now. Should we install wire mesh on the railings in advance?”

“No—!”

Another teacher howled in despair:

“My bonus! Without you, how am I supposed to live?!”

“...”

Professor Prang glanced at the wailing Instructor Kaide and said expressionlessly:

“Ten-thousand-word reflection due tomorrow. And your bonus for this semester is canceled.”

The wailing grew even more tragic.

But after that brief uproar, silence returned once again.

Over a dozen pairs of eyes quietly drifted toward Professor Prang.

He hated that Muen Campbell kid so much... he wouldn’t be angry, right?

No—maybe he already was. Just look at poor Kaide, who got caught in the crossfire!

If they stuck around much longer...

“Um... I’m not feeling well. I’ll take my leave first.”

Professor Fulan was the first to flee.

“Y-Yeah, I’m feeling a bit under the weather too...”

“I think I left the gas on at home...”

“My wife’s about to give birth...”

One by one, the teachers suddenly remembered “urgent matters” at home and made a swift exit.

In the end, only Professor Garan was left.

He stared at Prang’s still-expressionless face in the now-silent office for a long time before finally muttering:

“You know... you’re a professor. You don’t need to get this worked up over a kid.”

“I’m not worked up.”

“Bull. Look at yourself.”

“I said—I’m not worked up.”

Prang repeated, then suddenly raised his arm—and smashed his beloved antique desk with a single palm strike.

Garan froze.

It took him a long moment to recover. He trembled slightly as he said:

“A-Actually, uh... back then I really thought you were joking...”

“But I wasn’t joking.”

Prang picked up a splinter of the desk. Hesitated.

Then put it in his mouth.

He chewed.

And swallowed.

“I never joke.”

Then he picked up another piece. And ate it.

With his Crowned-tier physique, it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle some wood.

But this redwood—though fragrant—tasted terribly bitter.

And more than anything, it hurt to eat.

“I’m not worked up.”

Prang repeated, as if to convince himself.

“Why would I be upset?

As an educator, as a teacher, what could be more joyful than seeing a student find their way again?

It’s just... I feel ashamed. Ashamed of my lack of skill. Ashamed of my blind eyes.

I call myself a veteran teacher, but only during this exam did I finally see what was hiding in that boy’s eyes.”

“That fire—so fierce and bright. Like a lion roaring beneath a burning sunset!”

He clenched his fist, crushing the desk’s corner, then shoved it into his mouth.

He chewed, tears almost welling up—as if trying to wash out the filth clouding his eyes.

“That boy—Muen Campbell—he’s not some useless playboy like we thought. He’s the true heir to the Campbell name!”

“No... I have a feeling. One day, he’ll surpass even his father!”

“Surpass the Duke of Campbell? The Lion King?”

Garan gawked. He hadn’t expected Prang to suddenly hold Muen in such high ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) regard.

After all, Lorne Campbell was among the most exceptional Campbells in history.

“That’s... pretty hard to imagine.”

“Hard?”

Prang didn’t argue. He simply asked:

“Do you know who was the last person I saw with that same look in their eyes?”

“...Who?”

“You’ve seen her too.”

Prang lowered his gaze, voice sinking:

“That other foolish student of mine... the one who was taken by the Love God.”

The Purifying Saintess.

The girl who disappeared twenty years ago.

Whose statues still stood tall.

Whose believers still prayed to her.

Who, even in death, never bowed to the Love God.

“...”

Garan was stunned. He lapsed into silence, overwhelmed.

Then, after a long pause, he frowned and asked seriously:

“Wait—are you saying Muen Campbell is going to become the next Saintess?”

“...”

Prang froze.

He almost choked.

Garan just grinned and patted him on the shoulder.

“Alright, alright—don’t beat yourself up. No matter how good a teacher is, no one can see everything in a student.

At least... you didn’t ruin him, right?”

“But that genius—who can score eighty after just one month—only knew how to cast a light spell last semester. Under me.”

Prang’s voice was full of quiet misery.

“...”

Garan’s face stiffened too. Then he scowled in shame:

“You liar. You are mad!”

“I’m not.”

Prang went back to gnawing on the desk corner.

“And even if Muen Campbell hadn’t scored eighty this time... I still would’ve kept my promise.”

“...What?”

“You forgot, didn’t you? At the start of the semester, I said it: If Muen Campbell truly changed, I’d eat my desk.”

He let out a deep sigh.

“So from the moment the exam ended... I already knew.

No matter what the score was—I had to eat that damn desk.”

...

...

After he actually ate the whole desk, Professor Prang stormed out in a hurry. No one knew where he went.

Only Professor Garan remained.

After a while, something seemed to occur to him. He picked up Muen’s test again and looked it over carefully.

Eventually, at the question Prang had “corrected,” he faintly sensed a trace of magic.

“Heh... I knew it. Even if she was nervous, Professor Fulan’s level isn’t that low. There’s no way she’d make a rookie mistake in front of so many eyes.”

Garan rubbed his chin and squinted with a smile:

“So even that crusty old fossil Prang knows how to pull a little trick once in a while.”