Chapter 83: The Pink Bear and the First Lesson

After his morning run, Muen returned to the dormitory.

By then, the whole dorm district had finally started to stir, the usual clamor of student life gradually rising.

Back in his room, Muen took a cold shower.

The icy water shocked his skin, washing away sweat and fatigue, jolting his mind fully awake.

Afterward, standing before the mirror, Muen admired his freshly cleaned reflection, rubbing his chin with satisfaction.

“Mm, perfect.”

“Still got that roguish, handsome bastard charm.”

His appearance couldn’t change overnight, of course, but Muen believed that shifting his overall demeanor might soften how others perceived him.

He had to change how people saw him—otherwise, everywhere he went, people would keep looking at him like he’d been possessed by an Evil God or something. And that was getting old fast.

...

The Auditorium.

The opening ceremony was about to begin.

Muen arrived a few minutes early, following the posted signs to the second-year seating area.

About half the students had shown up so far.

He picked a relatively empty spot and sat down.

In the original novel, thanks to his identity and personality, Muen Campbell only ever associated with his little circle of "lapdogs." He didn’t exactly have many friends at the Academy.

So naturally, no one greeted him now.

But Muen could feel the countless eyes glued to him—the curious stares practically clung to him like stubborn gum, impossible to shake off.

Weird...

Muen glanced around.

The moment he turned, many students quickly averted their eyes, but the weight of their attention lingered.

“I mean, sure, I’m kind of a big deal here, but it’s never been this bad.”

Wait... could it be?

Muen suddenly clapped his palm into his fist, a realization dawning.

His apology to Ariel—word must’ve gotten out by now.

“That explains it... they’re all wondering if I’ve really turned over a new leaf.”

“If that’s the case... this is my chance to show off a little.”

“A perfect opportunity to shift my reputation—I can’t waste it.”

Suppressing his glee, Muen straightened his back and plastered on what he thought was a flawless smile.

With his naturally gorgeous, practically unfair face, his charm meter shot through the roof—some first-year girls in the nearby seats already let out soft, lovestruck squeals.

But elsewhere...

“Shit, Muen Campbell’s looking this way—avert your eyes, quick!”

“Wait, he’s smiling... He smiled at me! Oh no... what if he’s into me now?”

“No, no, absolutely not! I refuse to be one of his thirteen girlfriends! I’ll get sunk by the Dreadnought-Class Girlfriend for sure!”

These kinds of whispered panics rippled through the female students.

Unfortunately, they were sitting too far away—Muen didn’t catch a word.

But closer to the source of the gossip...

“Bastards... these gossipy witches! Who the hell are they calling the Dreadnought-Class Girlfriend?!”

Ariel, claws bared, seethed with rage, ready to tear those rumor-mongering girls apart.

“Stop, Ariel, calm down! We’re in the auditorium—starting a fight here is a huge problem!”

Liya wrapped her arms tightly around Ariel’s slim waist, trying her best to restrain her.

“Besides, even if your chest’s a little... flat and sturdy, just because they said ‘Dreadnought-Class’ doesn’t necessarily mean it’s about you.”

“Liya.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Whose side are you on, you little traitor?!”

“Wah—no! Ariel! Don’t scratch me—the ceremony’s starting, haha—the ceremony’s starting!”

Bzzzt—

The sharp feedback of a magically amplified mic cut through the auditorium, silencing the girls’ squabble.

Up on the wide stage, an absurd pink bear mascot patted the magical mic, testing it:

“Check, check—can you hear me? Can you hear me? Good, seems like you can.”

“Huh?”

Muen glanced up at the stage, spotting the ridiculous pink bear costume totally out of place in the formal setting.

“Entertainment? Icebreaker for the ceremony?”

Hiring someone in a mascot suit to liven things up—seemed the Academy’s leadership wasn’t as stiff as he thought.

“Now then, would all students kindly return to their seats and sit down quietly?”

The pink bear’s voice was low, dragging like a jaded middle-aged man, but the moment the sound echoed across the vast auditorium, some unseen force compelled every student to immediately sit in perfect order.

A hall that could seat over a thousand fell deathly silent in an instant.

“Hmm, seems everyone’s quite obedient.”

The pink bear nodded in satisfaction.

“Well, I won’t waste your time. Let me introduce myself.”

“My name is... Pink Bear.”

“I’m your new Headmaster.”

Oh, so the Headmaster—

Wait, what?!

Muen’s eyes shot wide, staring in disbelief.

Headmaster?

That ridiculous pink bear just said they’re the Headmaster?

No, hold on a damn second!

In the original novel, the Headmaster of Saint Maria Academy wasn’t... this.

She was supposed to be a mature, stunning woman—voluptuous figure, deep-V professional suit trimmed with delicate lace, black garter stockings, those ten-centimeter stilettos clicking down the halls—a vision straight out of a sinful daydream... Ahem, a deeply respectable educator!

The descriptions in the novel were, well... incredibly enticing. Muen had been looking forward to meeting her.

The original Muen had slept through the last opening ceremony, so he’d never seen her.

But this?

Where was the sultry office lady?

What he got instead was a ridiculous mascot bear with zero allure.

I ordered a lifelike, full-scale girlfriend model, and you delivered a plush teddy bear?!

Sure, plushies are cute—but they do nothing for my... aspirations!

As that realization dawned, the entire student body seemed to finally process the situation, a roar of collective outrage nearly blowing the auditorium roof clean off.

Apparently, they weren’t thrilled about trading their dream MILF for a comedy mascot either.

Ahem.

The pink bear cleared their throat softly.

It wasn’t loud—but the entire auditorium instantly fell silent again.

“I understand everyone’s dissatisfaction. Truly. Swapping an ice-cold, stunning, mature woman for a cute, cuddly Pink Bear... yeah, that’s rough.”

“But hey, it wasn’t up to me. Your beloved Headmaster, Hathaway, was temporarily reassigned for... reasons. So I’m stuck filling in.”

The pink bear’s mouth suddenly gaped open, and from the pitch-black interior, a massive, hairy, muscular arm extended.

It rose high—then flipped the entire crowd off with a perfectly angled middle finger.

“Like hell I wanna be Headmaster, assholes! What a pain in the ass!”

The pink bear’s low, irritated voice thundered across the hall.

“Got complaints? Take it up with the higher-ups! I was lounging on a beach, surrounded by gorgeous babes, soaking up sun, admiring thighs—next thing I know, I get dragged here to play Headmaster.”

“They even warned me explicitly—hands off the female students! You think I volunteered for this crap?”

“No, I didn’t! If I can’t flirt with cute girls, what’s the damn point of this job?!”

...

Silence consumed the hall once again.

Even Muen’s jaw hung slack—he could’ve swallowed a whole goose egg.

Forget what I said earlier.

This pink bear? Not cute. Not even close.

“Tch. Useless brats, all of you.”

Seemingly vented enough, the pink bear withdrew their arm and lazily droned:

“Alright, that’s it from me. Nothing important to say, just here to say hi.”

“Well then... happy end-of-term exams, everyone.”

With that, the pink bear tossed the magic mic aside, swaggered offstage with a scornful gait, even kicking over a cup of wolfberry tea along the way.

The middle-aged teacher nearby fumed silently, too scared to speak up.

...

Backstage.

“Aww, your turn, little Celicia~”

The pink bear’s entire demeanor shifted, voice syrupy sweet as they teased Celicia.

“Nervous? Want me to stall a bit? Make those useless students wait longer?”

“Can’t believe my father put you in charge of the Academy...”

Celicia’s cool gaze narrowed in faint confusion.

“They’re not worried you’ll cause real trouble?”

“Trouble? Me? How could I possibly cause trouble?”

The pink bear’s exaggeratedly innocent expression was almost impressive.

“...”

Celicia’s stare grew icier by the second.

“Fine, fine, I swear I’ll behave—little Celicia, please relax!”

The pink bear raised both hands in surrender, whining:

“Don’t look at me like I’m trash... I’ll get... I’ll get sad.”

“...So?”

Ignoring his weird phrasing, Celicia asked plainly:

“What happened to force Headmaster Hathaway to leave her beloved Academy?”

“Pfft, nothing big.”

The pink bear coyly squeezed their burly waist, feigning bashfulness.

“Maybe she snuck off to meet her secret lover~ Who knows?”

“Silence Oath?”

Celicia’s eyes flashed sharply.

“So that’s it.”

Only a vow sworn by the Gods themselves—a Silence Oath—could bind someone powerful enough to muzzle this pink bear so thoroughly.

Combine that with Headmaster Hathaway’s research specialty... it wasn’t hard to guess.

“Evil Gods...”

Celicia whispered under her breath, no longer wasting time.

She turned and strode toward the stage—her student council president’s speech was next.

“Aww, little Celicia, you’re impossible to fool...”

The pink bear sighed, watching her go.

From their gaping “mouth,” another hand emerged, scratching their head helplessly.

“Ah, right—”

Scratching his head, the Pink Bear suddenly seemed to recall something. That ridiculous bear face turned deadly serious.

“I almost forgot my objective!”

“Gotta sneak into Hathaway’s office before those uptight professors react.”

The Pink Bear glanced around, confirming no one was nearby, then muttered under his breath, voice solemn:

“A mature woman's office... there might still be something... exciting left behind...”

...

Ah—Celicia.

Still reeling from the image of a Pink Bear flipping off the entire auditorium, Muen’s brain was barely functional when that cold, breathtaking figure stepped into view, instantly purifying his battered soul.

“She hasn’t changed one bit.”

Muen propped his chin on his hand, eyes fixed on the girl on stage.

Her long silver hair cascaded down her shoulders like a river of stars, lashes so fine they flickered with shadows and light.

She was still devastatingly beautiful. Standing there, she was like a snow lotus blooming on a mountaintop.

“It’s like... everything that happened didn’t leave a mark on her at all.”

So cold.

So distant.

So impossibly flawless.

Even after all that mess, not a single blemish tainted those pure petals.

Instead, the one responsible for everything... could only shrink in shame.

But that’s good... isn’t it?

Staring at her, Muen thought silently.

Preserving her untouchable soul... that’s Celicia.

...

“Golden September, autumn winds bring cool relief... in this...”

Interestingly enough, Celicia’s speech turned out... shockingly ordinary.

It was practically indistinguishable from the generic school principal speeches Muen had suffered through in his past life.

But maybe thanks to the overwhelming trauma of the Pink Bear Headmaster, the entire auditorium actually listened with rapt attention this time.

After the speech, thunderous applause erupted.

Once Celicia left the stage, the department heads took turns giving instructions, pitching their respective fields to the first-years, trying to lure students into their programs.

Saint Maria Academy operated differently than Muen’s old-world schools. No rigid class structures—much more freedom. Like a university, students chose their courses individually.

No “required” or “elective” categories either. As long as you racked up enough credits within the year, your course selection was entirely up to you.

Though... new students only got one shot to choose freely. After that, switching courses meant slogging through a mountain of paperwork.

It was designed to discourage impulsiveness—students needed to learn commitment.

So, for first-years, these three days of open classroom tours were critical—this would shape their entire future path.

But for returning students, the first class of the semester began right after the ceremony.

“First class... Basic Principles of Magic?”

Muen checked his schedule.

“Perfect. Couldn’t be a better first lesson.”

The corner of his lips curled into a smile.

With a name like Basic Principles, it had to be introductory material—way more suitable for a magic novice like him than Professor Prang’s brutal practical courses.

“The first magic class... the first real start of my new self. Just watch—this Muen Campbell is going to surprise you all!”

Pumped with determination, Muen strode off toward that bright new beginning.

...

The Clocktower.

Basic Principles of Magic classroom.

The place resembled a university lecture hall from his old world—massive, stepped seating that could hold over a hundred students.

When Muen arrived... he was alone.

“First one here?”

He checked the time—less than fifteen minutes to class.

Figures. Too much freedom breeds laziness.

Just like his old world’s colleges, showing up barely on time was the cultural norm here too.

Thankfully, this world wasn’t so competitive that students rushed in early to claim seats—no need to fight for front-row dominance.

“Guess I’ll wait.”

Muen placed his textbook neatly on the desk, back straight, posture flawless.

“No point wasting time.”

With that, he closed his eyes to meditate.

...

“Damn it... so that move really has a hidden variation!”

Muen’s eyes snapped open, sharp killing intent leaking unintentionally.

“Ah!”

A startled gasp broke the silence.

Turning his head, Muen saw a petite girl clutching her books, wide-eyed with fear, frozen mid-step as her textbooks tumbled to the floor.

Crap. His combat-hardened expression must’ve scared her half to death.

Snapping back to himself, Muen rubbed his face into a gentler expression, smiling softly:

“Sorry... did I scare you?”

“N-No...” The girl looked on the verge of tears.

“Here, let me help with those.”

“N-No, I’ll do it!”

She hurriedly knelt to pick up her books, as if terrified Muen’s mere touch might infect them with some unspeakable curse.

But her hands trembled so badly, it took ages to collect them.

Once finished, she practically fled past Muen... paused at the third row... hesitated... then retreated to the fifth row to sit, far from him.

“...Am I really that scary?”

Muen scratched his cheek in confusion.

She looked at him like he was some thirteen-timing, apex-tier scumbag about to seduce and ruin her life.

No... probably just that combat-ready glare from earlier.

Smile, Muen. Keep smiling.

Checking the time—five minutes to class.

The students should be arriving soon.

Just as he thought that, it was like someone flipped a switch—the doors burst open as students poured in.

Judging by the thick notebooks and reference materials in their arms, these were the model students—the diligent types.

Spotting Muen seated dead center in the front row, their expressions froze. Then they grabbed their friends and hurriedly sat as far back as possible—at least five rows of distance.

It created a ripple effect.

Row after row filled from the back, a massive half-circle of empty space forming around Muen.

“...You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Even with his forced, practiced smile, Muen nearly lost composure.

What am I, patient zero of some plague? Why the ten-meter exclusion zone?

But he wasn’t the only one flustered.

Right before class started, a group of clearly “problem students” slinked in—their uniforms in disarray, hair dyed wild colors, covered in piercings and chains.

Classic delinquents.

One look, and their faces froze in shock.

Where are my seats?

The back rows—the warm, cozy, guaranteed nap spots—occupied entirely by studious overachievers.

Scanning the room, they spotted Muen in the front row... and his massive bubble of empty seats.

But ultimately... no one dared approach.

Sure, they didn’t mind sitting next to Muen.

But the front row? You ever seen a delinquent willingly sit in the front?

Hell no.

They’d rather stand, legs numb, unable to nap, than risk that humiliation.

“What the hell...”

Ariel, nearly late, dragged Liya through the crowd, jaw dropping at the unusually packed back rows.

Where’s my seat?

Where’s my sacred rear-window kingdom?

Gone.

Swallowed by the sea of students.

“And now what?”

Liya pointed nervously at Muen seated front and center.

“Do we... sit over there?”

“Like hell!”

Ariel’s eyes flared with rage.

“You forget how bad the rumors already are? If I sit next to Muen Campbell now, who knows what disgusting new version those rumors will evolve into?”

“True... so...”

“We stand.”

Ariel clenched her jaw.

“Standing for one class? No big deal.”

...

...

“Um... Professor Prang... I-I’m really nervous...”

Outside the classroom.

The new teacher, Miss Fulan, shrank back nervously, glancing at Professor Prang beside her.

“Professor... What if something goes wrong during class? What if I can’t teach them properly? What if they... hate me?”

“Relax, relax, it’ll be fine,” Professor Prang replied unusually gently, offering rare words of reassurance.

“Every teacher has to survive their first class. Trust me, students are always very forgiving toward new instructors during their first lesson. They won’t hate you.”

“R-Really?” Fulan asked, eyes wide with hope.

“Absolutely. Just perform like you did during the trial lecture—you’ll be fine.”

Professor Prang smiled, adding warmly, “These students... some might be a little mischievous, but they’re all lovable kids.”

“Oh, that’s... that’s good.” Fulan exhaled deeply, patting her generously proportioned chest for comfort.

A flicker of anticipation stirred in her heart.

Lovable students... she wondered what kind of cuteness they’d bring.

Lost in thought, she followed Professor Prang into the classroom, eyes sparkling with excitement as she looked ahead.

Surely the cute ones sit right at the front, the studious, obedient ones... I’ll connect with them first...

Wait, huh?

Where... where were the diligent, adorable students supposed to be?

Instead, all she saw was a ridiculously handsome blond young man sitting alone in the front row... with not another soul nearby.

Lifting her gaze, Fulan realized every single student had clustered themselves five rows back, many still standing by the door, unwilling to come anywhere near the front.

This...

This...

Wasn’t this basically...?

They already hate me, don’t they?

I haven’t even started, and they hate me already!

“P-Professor Prang...” Fulan’s eyes welled with tears as she looked over at him in panic.

You told me they wouldn’t hate me!

“W-Wait, let me assess the situation,” Prang muttered, visibly confused himself.

But after only a moment of bewilderment, those sharp, eagle-like eyes of his honed in on the one person who clearly did not belong in that seat.

Doesn’t matter what happened—if something’s weird, it’s his fault for sure!

“Muen Camp—bell! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Me?” Muen blinked, bewildered, spreading his hands. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Nothing? Then why are you sitting there?”

The notorious back-row slacker, suddenly plopped in the first row? Of course something was off.

“Why can’t I sit in the front? Maybe I just wanna be closer... to the blackboard,” Muen reasoned with mock shock.

“Wait, are seats based on grades now?”

“Well... no, the seats are open,” Prang admitted, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “But you, sitting there? Something’s not right.”

“There’s nothing wrong! I just want to actually study this time!”

Muen straightened his posture, face etched with righteous indignation.

I just wanna be a good student... why’s that so hard?!

“You...” Professor Prang started to argue, but his mind flickered back to Muen’s recent behavior.

Maybe... he really was trying to turn over a new leaf?

Taking a deep breath, Prang turned his glare toward the students crammed awkwardly at the back, barking:

“What the hell are you lot doing?! Sit down—now!”

“But—”

“No buts—sit!”

His stern gaze swept the room, landing sharply on Ariel Bugalde.

Even she... someone he had high hopes for... was tangled up with the delinquents.

His brow twitched, palm slapping the empty desk beside Muen.

“Ariel Bugalde. Sit here.”

“Eh? Why?”

“No questions! I’m offering you the best seat in the room, and you don’t want it?”

The best seat...

Ariel’s eye twitched at the sight of the one beside that so-called ‘best seat’—Muen Campbell himself.

But... faced with Professor Prang’s overwhelming authority, she gritted her teeth, grabbed Liya, and reluctantly took the seat beside him.

“Good morning, Miss Ariel. Fancy seeing you here,” Muen greeted her with a polite smile.

“Y-You...”

Ariel’s jaw clenched, face twisted with frustration. Rather than respond, she coldly turned away with an audible huff.

“Eh?”

Muen blinked.

What did I say wrong?

“Guess she still really hates me...”

Scratching his head, Muen turned to his other side.

There sat another delinquent, someone vaguely familiar—a lackey from his predecessor’s reckless days.

“Morning,” Muen greeted with the same bright smile.

“....”

The delinquent’s face twitched, lips curling into a scowl as he turned his head away with a snort.

...Excuse me?

Do they all have to be so difficult?

With the seating finally filled, Professor Prang tapped his cane in frustration, muttering under his breath before turning to Fulan:

“Alright, Miss Fulan. Begin your class.”

“O-Okay.”

Fulan forced a determined nod, smiling brightly at the class despite her nerves.

“Um... good morning, everyone! I’m Fulan Fudo, your new Basic Principles of Magic instructor for the second-year curriculum. I hope we’ll all get along well!”

The classroom fell utterly silent.

Fulan glanced left.

A punk with messy hair, piercings, and a weird grin chewed on something in the corner.

She looked right.

A gloomy, dark-faced girl glared out the window, acting as if the teacher didn’t exist.

Fulan’s fragile optimism shattered.

Professor Prang, you liar... are these really ‘lovable’ students?

Why was this nothing like her expectations?!

“Great job!”

Only the blond-haired, absurdly handsome young man seated front and center clapped eagerly, his voice ringing bright and clear:

“Good morning, Teacher!”

“G-Good morning...”

Fulan nearly teared up in gratitude.

There are good students...

Look at him—so handsome, so polite, so attentive... his name sounds familiar though...

Wait. His name.

Wasn’t he... Muen Campbell?

The name that appeared all over those... scandalous headlines.

Duke’s son. Legendary playboy. The one with thirteen girlfriends and a forced abortion scandal.

Fulan’s vision darkened. She glanced desperately toward Prang for help.

But Professor Prang... had just picked up a transmission stone.

On the other end, a frantic voice shouted:

“What?!”

Prang’s face turned crimson with rage. “The fifth-years... blew up the lab building? With the magical creatures from the Beast Care Club inside?! Dammit! I knew housing magical creatures next to the labs would backfire! Hold tight—I’m on my way!”

Snapping the stone closed, Prang offered Fulan a hurried, apologetic smile:

“Sorry, gotta run. You’re on your own.”

“Eh? Wait—!”

“I believe in you!”

Flashing an overly cheerful thumbs-up, Prang vanished from sight with a flicker of light.

“....”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It’s just a little setback. You got this.

Blinking back tears, Fulan forced herself to smile, turning to face the students:

“Well then, everyone... let’s begin class.”

This is it!

Muen straightened, spirits surging with determination.

He’d prepared all break for this moment.

No matter the subject, first impressions were critical—and he couldn’t afford to miss a single word.

As a total magic novice, his only option was to follow the teacher’s pace meticulously.

“Please take out your textbooks.”

Yes—textbooks out.

“Open to page one.”

Page one—ready.

“Turn to the table of contents and find the chapter on Multi-Phase Continuous Chanting Theory,” Fulan instructed.

Muen nodded obediently, flipping through the thick book.

...Wait.

Something feels off, Muen frowned slightly.

“Today’s class will cover the basics of Multi-Phase Continuous Chanting,” Fulan continued cheerfully. “If anyone has questions, feel free to raise your hand.”

“Teacher, I have a question.” Muen's hand shot up instantly.

“Ah... M-Muen Campbell, right? Please, go ahead.”

“Uhm... why are we starting with something as advanced as Multi-Phase Continuous Chanting?” Muen asked innocently, wide eyes full of curiosity. “Shouldn’t we start with something... simpler?”

“Simpler?” Fulan tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. “But this is the simplest topic.”

“Lies!” Muen slapped the textbook dramatically, flipping the hefty tome in his hands. “What about the chapters before this? The hundreds of pages before page 130 where this chanting stuff starts?”

“Before that?” Fulan blinked, looking even more confused. “That’s first-year material... didn’t you already learn all that last year?”

“...”

Muen froze.

The world quieted for a moment as realization ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) hit him.

Then came the bitterness.

How... how did I forget something so critical?

He’s in second year now.

Second-year classes don’t review first-year content.

No matter how much he wants to follow along, how dedicated he feels... there’s an insurmountable wall between him and the rest of the class.

The tragic chasm between year one... and year two.

Muen silently lowered his head, flipping desperately through the earlier pages of the textbook, praying some hidden memory might resurface.

But after a few pages, he gave up.

Forget resurfacing—there was nothing there to begin with.

So this... this is the legendary level of a student who spent an entire year learning only the Illumination Spell?

What do I do... Should I just... accept repeating a year?

“...”

Watching Muen's expression darken in despair, Fulan wisely decided not to ask what was wrong.

Better to keep the class moving.

“A-Alright, let’s begin the chapter then,” Fulan announced with forced cheer. “If anyone doesn’t understand, just tell me, okay?”

“Now, regarding Multi-Phase Continuous Chanting... we must first start with the legendary Grand Mage Meladomir, who—”

“Wait, Teacher Fulan!”

Muen raised his hand again, desperate.

“I... I don’t understand.”

“Huh?”

Fulan blinked, surprised. “But I barely started the introduction...”

“Exactly.”

Muen gritted his teeth. “I didn’t understand a single word. What the hell is Multi-Phase Continuous Chanting even supposed to be?!”

“...”

He’s... not just messing with me, right?

“Then...” Fulan forced a smile, suppressing her unease. “Muen, what do you suggest?”

“Teacher, how about this,” Muen declared seriously, flipping his book back to the very first page.

“Start from the beginning. Slowly. I don’t mind how long it takes.”

“Eh? Why?”

“Because I want to listen,” Muen leaned in earnestly, grabbing Fulan’s hand with both of his.

“I want to hear you explain the entire textbook. From start to finish.”

“W-What?!”

Fulan panicked, warmth flooding her cheeks as Muen's masculine presence pressed closer. His large hands wrapped around hers firmly, startling her with both their temperature... and boldness.

“W-Why... the whole book?” Fulan stammered. “That’d take forever... plus this is class, we can’t disrupt the others—”

“I want to understand. Everything,” Muen said with quiet determination. “Time doesn’t matter. After class, even if I have to pay for private lessons, I’ll do it.”

“I just... want to hear you teach me everything.”

W-What the hell is happening...

Steam practically hissed from Fulan’s flushed cheeks, her eyes swirling like tangled threads of yarn.

Stay calm, Fulan Fudo. You’re a teacher! You can’t lose your head here!

Focus—first, understand the situation logically:

→ Fact one: Muen Campbell is an infamously terrible student. The last magic theory instructor mentioned he scored... a legendary 3 points on the final.

Three points.

As Professor Prang so eloquently put it: “If you trample across the test paper, the muddy footprints would score more than that.”

A hopeless student, notorious for hating academics.

Meaning, there’s no way this request is about studying.

→ Fact two: He said earlier he picked this front-row seat to “get closer.”

Closer to whom? There’s only one person in front of him now.

→ Fact three: In a classroom full of students openly hostile toward a new teacher, only Muen Campbell is smiling warmly, eager to “learn.” Highly suspicious behavior.

→ Fact four: He wants her to teach him an entire textbook, regardless of how long it takes. After class. Alone.

Conclusion: This isn’t about academics.

He wants me. He’s trying to flirt with me!

Muen Campbell—the thirteen-girlfriend, forced-abortion-level scumbag—is trying to seduce me!

“N-No way!” Fulan yanked her hands free, cheeks burning as she stepped back.

“That’s impossible!”

“Eh?” Muen blinked, baffled.

“What’s impossible?”

Private tutoring is completely normal, right? He made the request openly, in front of everyone, to avoid weird rumors given his reputation.

Why is she reacting like this...?

“Pursuing me is impossible!” Fulan shouted, eyes squeezed shut, face bright red.

“Even though being a duchess sounds amazing, forbidden student-teacher romance is unacceptable!”

“Wha...?”

Muen froze, body trembling with shock.

Duchess?

When did he mention anything about making someone his duchess?!

Before he could process that ridiculous misunderstanding, the classroom door knocked and swung open.

“Pardon the interruption. Student Council class inspection.”

Celicia Leopold, followed by her secretary Veil, entered the room gracefully.