By Zephyria 
Shayden, Benjamin, Jenny, Marianne, Damian, Ivan, and I. The seven of us argued for a long time.
Having been the closest companions for several semesters, we wanted to take at least one class together, but we couldn’t find any decent ones.
What I had hoped to learn in the Intermediate Alchemy class was how to heal injuries. However, since we spent the entire last semester making beauty creams and hair oils, I no longer felt like studying alchemy.
This class is unavailable for this friend, that class overlaps with that friend’s major… as we eliminated options one by one, nothing suitable remained.
Jenny, who had been diligently advocating for it, handed me the syllabus again.
“Basic Social Dance for an Effective Debut. Is this really not going to work, Michael?”
“My parents gave up on teaching me to dance.”
“Nooo… But Michael, you’ll be fifteen next year.”
Damian, suppressing a laugh, offered another syllabus.
“If dancing isn’t your thing, how about this? Continental Gastronomic Tour. It’s a class where you learn about and experience the unique dietary habits of the entire continent.”
“That class, the one where… you eat bugs? I can’t do that.”
“Aaaah, bugs can be delicious too. I trust Ivan.”
“I don’t trust myself. No way.”
Shayden brought up an accounting class, earning Marianne’s grumbles, and when Marianne asked if they weren’t curious about Elemental Studies, she was met with the children’s jeers.
Amidst this, Ivan held up a syllabus from the very bottom.
“…How about this? Professor Blanc Cooper’s Growth and Reflection.”
“…What kind of class is that? No, the name itself sounds strange.”
Marianne already showed a look of disgust. Ivan looked directly at me and handed me the syllabus, so I accepted it.
“Well, it suddenly reminded me of Michael.”
“Michael?”
“Yes. Michael likes theology, right? So I thought Michael might like it too… It’s a class that helps you achieve inner growth through theological reflection.”
“No, what is this…”
“Wow… Where do you even find classes like this?”
“Theology-related subjects are easy to get good grades in. First of all, the professors prioritize attitude over grades, and attendance is the most important.”
Damian, who had taken the syllabus and examined it for a while, chimed in.
“Besides, this class has no exams. Grades are based on attendance and assignments.”
“Let’s go with that one.”
“Agreed.”
“I also approve.”
It wasn’t just because there were no exams, but also because I hoped to have richer theological discussions with Michael, that I decided to take the class. It was absolutely not because there were no exams.
In the mornings, I still attended Maelo Sanson’s classes. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I took Intermediate Swordsmanship, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Advanced Swordsmanship, just like last semester.
The first class on Tuesday afternoons was Basic Estate Management with Shayden and Damian, and the second class on Tuesday afternoons, joined by other children, was Growth and Reflection.
After fitting in Imperial Genealogy on Wednesday afternoons, one-on-one lessons with Douglas on Thursdays, and Magical Creature class with Edwin on Fridays, my week was packed.
Damian looked at my schedule with a puzzled expression.
“Uh, are you only planning to take Imperial Genealogy on Wednesday afternoons this time?”
“Michael wouldn’t be satisfied with just seven classes.”
“Ah, this day… Professor Wilton Roberts only comes to the academy on Wednesdays and Thursdays, so I requested a separate private lesson for late Wednesday. I was worried about being late.”
“When? At this time? Uh… Isn’t this too much of a privilege?”
“No, after seven o’clock. He agreed to make time after his regular classes end.”
“After regular classes? Then it won’t count towards your credits.”
“Yes.”
Marianne’s jaw dropped. She looked at my schedule once, then at me, and let out a hollow laugh.
“It’s not a privilege, but it’s certainly unique… Wow, the singularity of my life, Michael Ernhardt.”
“Hmm.”
“…I’m asking because I’m genuinely curious, what are you going to learn one-on-one?”
“A bit of Stealth technique and Footwork. Professor Wilton Roberts’ methods of moving stealthily are fascinating…”
Even Shayden and Benjamin were dumbfounded. As students in the same Swordsmanship Department, I had wondered if they might want to join, but they showed no such inclination, which made me feel a little disappointed.
“No, …aren’t you interested? Why?”
“Hmm… I’m aiming to be a knight, so… I’m more accustomed to taking the lead than being stealthy.”
“Can you even call something a class if it doesn’t count for credits…? I don’t think so.”
After helping the other children plan their schedules, I spent the entire weekend shopping for the necessary supplies and other items for the semester. I was content with the time spent relying on each other, laughing, and chatting with my close friends.
I met Rubel briefly to inform him about my schedule again.
Rubel agreed to take the “Encounter with Monsters and Philosophy” class on Mondays and informed me that he would also be taking Intermediate Swordsmanship this semester. I felt a bit awkward but pleased at the thought of seeing him every day.
When I asked if he wouldn’t be too busy, I decided to simply trust his word that it was fine.
❖ ❖ ❖
August. The new semester began.
It was summer. Just like the last semester, I started the first class on Monday with Intermediate Swordsmanship. It was a class taken by Shayden, Benjamin, Bill, and Rubel.
Maelo Sanson was a professor with a high reputation. Many students took his classes consecutively in the first and second semesters, even if they didn’t count for credits.
As a result, students who had built a solid foundation in Imperial Swordsmanship last semester were tested on whether they remembered what they learned in the first class.
Following Sanson’s commands, they sequentially executed from the first to the final form of Imperial Swordsmanship. There were no stumbles. All swordsmanship should connect into one, so it was strange for me, who had reached the Transcendent Peak realm in my past life, to be clumsy with a new sword style I had practiced diligently for half a year.
“Very well done, Michael. All your movements were precise.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Nevertheless, the single word of praise sounded so sweet, likely because Maelo Sanson was a Martial artist of Hwagyeong. I didn’t hide my joy and pleasure.
Shayden was criticized for losing power when retracting his sword, while Bill, conversely, was told he was putting too much power into all his sword forms. Benjamin received similar praise to mine.
And Rubel received a lukewarm gaze from Maelo Sanson.
“Uh… You’re planning to take it again this semester? Intermediate Swordsmanship?”
“…Yes, Professor.”
“Well, there’s no reason you can’t… Alright. Work hard.”
It was clear he had already taken Intermediate Swordsmanship at least once before, not just last semester.
Indeed, it was unlikely that Rubel, who wielded such high-level Imperial Swordsmanship, had not received Maelo Sanson’s instruction. My gaze shifted to Rubel, who was pretending to look elsewhere.
After adjusting his stance a few times and receiving decent praise, Bill strutted over to me, acting cute.
“I think it’s thanks to you teaching me well, Senior.”
“Me?”
“Yes, especially this move in the 12th form.”
“Ah, that.”
Bill demonstrated the move of pulling back his extended arm and then quickly bowed his head again. It was a clear request for praise. Seeing his round head glistening with sweat, instead of stroking him, I pinched and shook Bill’s cheek and sent him away.
As the boy whined, I chuckled at his cuteness, then belatedly noticed Rubel standing there, watching us.
“…”
“You did well too, Senior.”
I didn’t know why I felt a prickle of unease over something like this. I beckoned him closer, and Rubel scurried right up to me. I patted him on the shoulder a couple of times.
I felt a strange sensation and looked at him closely.
“…Why, why are you looking at me like that?”
“No, you just seem a bit taller.”
I had grown a little taller during the break, but it seemed the child had shot up as well.
At this age, children grew day by day like bamboo shoots after rain. With a pleased feeling, I compared Rubel’s height to my own shoulder. Rubel asked in a small voice, carefully.
“…Do you prefer being short?”
“Of course not. You’re still manly…”
I was about to say handsome, but my throat suddenly closed up. I was speechless.
It was the same tone he had when he asked if I liked long hair before. The child had grown his hair out and tied it back, and I had only just noticed it.
But unlike last time, his face wasn’t flushed with shy embarrassment.
I gazed at Rubel’s pale, gentle face. When he asked what was wrong, I smiled and said it was nothing.
Had he already given up?
No, that wasn’t it. What use would he have for wondering about such things? I composed myself.
We agreed to meet again after washing up and returned to our rooms.
It felt a bit unsettling that my Monday afternoon class was scheduled with Rubel alone. I resolved firmly not to dwell on it.
Professor Steven McCliffe, who taught “Encounter with Monsters and Philosophy,” distributed books around the same time as last semester, using work-study students.
The binding of the book I received this time was leather, with a more bluish hue than before. Steven surprised the children by saying this textbook was made from Ogre hide.
Watching the children react with surprise and chaos, throwing the books around noisily, Steven smiled faintly.
“They’re expensive books, so they fly far. Hurry and find your own books and pick them up. It would be a hassle to buy them again. Are you not taking exams this semester?”
“Ah, Professor…”
“Alright, alright. Let’s start by writing your names on the first page. Everyone, calm down…”
…Could it be that he enjoyed the children’s screams and did this on purpose? It was a mischievous act, unbefitting his appearance. I looked at him anew.