By Zephyria 
Professor Wilton Roberts was sitting, hunched over the table.
He had one leg raised, resting his cheek on his bent knee, with the Yongcheon acupoint (*the acupoint in the middle of the sole of the foot) on the edge of the tabletop.
From that position, the professor merely lifted his eyes to look at me. The size of his pupils made his gaze seem even more snake-like and sharp.
With a smiling face, the professor asked, “Why do you think so?”
“Long swords are usually worn at the waist. Because the blade is long, it’s difficult to conceal the weapon, and the swinging motion is also relatively large. Therefore, one can be wary and prepared in advance.”
“Daggers.”
“⋯On the other hand, daggers can be hidden in one’s clothing. Because they can be used for a covert and swift attack in an unexpected situation, it is difficult to prepare.”
“That’s correct. Then, how can one identify someone who uses a dagger?”
“⋯By visually inspecting whether they⋯ are carrying a dagger⋯.”
“How can you tell if the opponent is carrying a dagger?”
“By whether they are wearing a holster⋯ or if the dagger is visibly worn⋯.”
“This time, you’re only half right.”
Wilton Roberts stepped down from the table.
Despite wearing what appeared to be sturdy shoes, he made no sound with his footsteps. I found that fact peculiar.
Stealth technique is primarily learned by assassins, and it was a martial art I had wanted to learn at least once in the Central Plains. I observed him closely, wondering if Sierren had something similar.
He stood straight and held up his hands, shoulder-width apart.
As his hunched back straightened, I could finally gauge his full height.
He had seemed small and slender, wearing a long, thin black shirt and black pants with a black vest over his lean frame, but he had a considerably long and solid build.
It was strange that he could control his appearance so freely, as if he hadn’t mastered the Bone Contraction Art (*a martial art that narrows the space between one’s bones to make the body appear smaller).
Naturally, I found myself admiring the departments of the Empire’s Nobility Yearbook, where individuals like Calypse Agrigent and Wilton Roberts were involved.
And I was even more astonished by what he said next.
“How many daggers do you think are hidden on my body right now?”
No one answered.
Instead, low gasps of surprise flowed out from various places like murmurs.
It seemed he hadn’t asked the question expecting an answer. Wilton Roberts drew a dagger from each of his shirt’s wrists and placed them on the table.
Since the thin black shirt didn’t appear to have ample space inside, the professor’s action seemed as impossible as pulling an elephant out of a small wooden box.
And surprisingly, that was just the beginning.
When Professor Roberts opened his shirt buttons, a chest strap was visible over his thinly worn turtleneck.
The daggers in their holsters were arranged diagonally, like collarbones, without hindering his movement. Three on the left, and three more on the right, for a total of six.
There were three more daggers on his left hip, hidden by his shirt. He then bent down and rolled up his pants, revealing one more dagger and a heavy sword.
Just counting these brought the total to thirteen. As Professor Roberts tapped the floor with the heel of his right foot, a blade sprang out silently from the front of his shoe.
I swallowed a gasp.
“Those who use long swords first learn not to drop their weapon. But daggers are useless if you carry them for too long, so people like me usually carry a large number of them.”
“⋯.”
“I’ll ask again. How can you know in advance if a dangerous person is carrying a dagger?”
“⋯.”
While I remained unable to answer, Wilton Roberts re-equipped the daggers he had set down.
In reverse order of how he had placed them, he secured the daggers from his ankles to his waist and chest, then fastened his shirt buttons, making them invisible even when you knew where to look. He dropped his smiling expression.
“Dangerous people usually wear black clothes.”
“⋯Excuse me?”
“It’s a simple answer. Who would have a preference for wearing only intimidating, pitch-black clothes from head to toe?”
I was speechless.
A few people let out stifled chuckles at the professor’s joke.
However, the laughter stopped immediately when Wilton Roberts scanned the children with a stern gaze. He was serious throughout. I wondered if I was missing some profound truth and pondered deeply myself.
Professor Wilton Roberts did not teach by giving away the answers beforehand. He was someone who constantly threw out topics.
He would ask a question, and after the students pondered and answered, he would then reveal his own answer. After giving the students ample time to think, he would ask again.
“But would I dress like this even if I were going to kill someone?”
This time, no one laughed. Someone quietly replied, “No.”
“The weapons you hold in your hands are that dangerous. Always check who is staying by your side and what they are thinking, and do not handle daggers lightly.”
Meanwhile, I felt utterly disheartened.
In the Central Plains, assassins truly wore black when they went to kill people. Because it was extremely difficult to spot those in black clothing in the deep darkness, which rarely brightened even during celebrations.
Of course, the nights of the Central Plains and Sierren are very different, but night is night, no matter how bright. Wouldn’t it be better to wear black clothes if one had to kill someone in the dead of night?
However, I could understand what he said next. The saying to be wary of the elderly, women, and children was a common adage even in the Central Plains. One should not underestimate any person around them. I composed myself.
Wilton Roberts waited until tension appeared on the children’s faces before continuing.
“Now, I will first explain the structure of a dagger.”
I listened as he explained the obvious in an unconventional way, with great detail.
It wasn’t a simple explanation of ‘this part is the handle and this part is the blade.’ He spoke about how gripping it in a certain way allowed for a longer throw, and another way for a shorter one, making every word fascinating.
When he explained how to grip a dagger in reverse and inflict damage by sacrificing flesh to cut bone in a desperate situation, it felt as vivid as listening to the professor’s adventure stories, and my palms grew sweaty.
Every time the tilted Wilton Roberts threw and caught a dagger, the children’s shoulders flinched.
The movements his ten fingers made were as delicate as if they could split a wind-blown fallen leaf in half.
I was amazed by the way he transferred power from his shoulders to the tips of his fingers, and even when I tried to mimic a few small movements, it didn’t work well. I was overjoyed to hear that he would teach it properly starting from the next class.
❖ ❖ ❖
After dinner, I organized my notes with Shayden in front of me.
In the second semester, Alchemy and Camping Class, which had been moved to Fridays, continued until Saturday, making it difficult to secure sufficient study time. Therefore, both Shayden and I were more diligent in organizing our notes than in the first semester.
I organized what we learned that week into my notebook and compared it with Shayden’s to reconfirm important parts.
As I finished organizing my notes, I asked Shayden about the children who were taking the throwing knife technique class together.
Shayden, as always, provided detailed information about all of them. I couldn’t tell if it was because everyone taking the throwing knife technique class was a student from the Swordsmanship Department, or if it was the same even with other department students mixed in, but it was quite strange.
Among them, the story of Oliver Combine, a third-year student, remained in my memory for a long time.
Oliver Combine was a martial artist of average height and build. His teal hair, which reached his jawline, was wavy like seaweed and stood out even from afar.
When he was quiet, he had a stern appearance, but he was talkative because he enjoyed explaining things. He said he was Glotin Tenner’s best friend.
Glotin Tenner was a boy Marianne Philodendore had grown fond of during the summer break. I hadn’t seen his face yet, but he was said to be very handsome.
When I relayed Marianne’s comment that he looked good in glasses, Shayden laughed heartily and nodded.
“Tenor senior is indeed handsome. As someone from the Business Department, he must be good at his studies, so glasses⋯. Yes, they might suit him well. Marianne said that? She told me not to worry about her.”
“Well, she seemed more anxious because I didn’t believe he was handsome.”
“In any case, I heard that Tenor senior and Combine senior are quite close friends. I don’t think there’s any particular need to be cautious. From my perspective, they are both just good people. We just need to be careful not to relay Marianne’s words to them, right?”
Although I wasn’t the type to pass on others’ stories, I nodded, resolving to be careful just in case. Suddenly curious, I asked again.
“How did someone from the Business Department and Oliver Combine become such close friends?”
“They are the same age, and the Tenner family has worked as retainers for the Combine family for a long time. It’s natural for them to be close. Besides, I heard their personalities match well. Combine senior apparently likes people and enjoys explaining things.”
“Ah, that’s true. Even when meeting for the first time, he answers questions well.”
“Right?”
Then, Shayden asked me various detailed questions about Professor Wilton Roberts. It was surprising that there was anyone at this school he didn’t know, but I also tried my best to provide detailed answers.
After I explained for a while that he was a martial artist of a high realm, whose gait was silent and deliberate, his movements were subtle, and he could fully control even the minute muscles of his body, Shayden interrupted me and told me to answer what he wanted to know, so I agreed.
When Shayden heard about Professor Roberts’ ash-colored hair, his pale, sand-like eyes, and how he was wrapped in black clothes covering him from neck to toe, he wore a very peculiar expression.
Only after hearing Professor Roberts’ affiliation did Shayden nod as if he understood.
“If he’s affiliated with a lower department of the Empire’s Nobility Yearbook, that’s understandable.”
“Are all the people involved in creating the Nobility Yearbook like that, besides Professor Calypse Agrigent?”
“Uh⋯. There’s a rumor that people in that field, for professional reasons, don’t like to reveal themselves. Professor Calypse doesn’t often leave his office during breaks either, does he?”
“⋯Is that so?”
“Yeah. Unless Walter senior drags him out⋯ Oops.”
“Hmm?”
“No, it’s nothing.”
“Walter, that senior, seems to get along quite well with the professors.”
I praised his demeanor, unsure if it was because Walter Orgen knew how to respect elders or simply because he had a friendly personality.
After chatting about such things for a while longer, Shayden said he was tired and wanted to sleep, so we parted ways.