Chapter 107: The Dean

“Name?”

“Muen Campbell.”

“Age?”

“Eighteen.”

“Sex?”

“...You’re really asking that?”

Inside the white hospital room, Muen looked at the adult woman in front of him—dressed in a professional suit and sheer black stockings—and couldn’t help but comment:

“Can’t you see that for yourself?”

“Of course I can.”

The woman, writing and scribbling away, pushed up her gold-rimmed glasses and glanced at Muen with a deadpan expression.

“But as a psychological evaluator, my job is to assess your mental state through these questions, so please cooperate. Thank you.”

“...Male.”

“Good. Self-perception appears intact, for now. Then...”

She pulled a pair of men’s boxer briefs from a sealed bag and held them up in front of him.

“When you look at this, Muen, do you have any... particular thoughts?”

“...I hate it.” Muen’s lips twitched.

“Is that so?”

She continued writing calmly. “Subject displays clear aversion toward male-associated items. Possible indicators of feminization in psychological profile...”

“Wait a second!”

Muen interrupted her, shocked.

“I just hate underwear that someone else has already worn! How the hell does that connect to anything feminine?!”

“Do most males hate men’s underwear?”

Her glasses glinted with a light that seemed to see through everything. “Don’t tell me... you’re wearing women’s panties right now? If that’s the case, we might be dealing with a more serious condition—possibly—”

“I said it’s because someone else wore them! Anyone would be grossed out by used—whatever! That’s basic human hygiene!”

“Oh? My apologies. Seems I lack experience in that department.”

The woman nodded as if enlightened, then wrote:

“However, subject displays clear signs of irritability. Possible trauma-related trigger—”

“It’s you! I’m pissed off because of you, you lunatic!”

“Subject demonstrates violent intent toward evaluator. Verbally aggressive. Recommending—”

“...”

Mental breakdown achieved.

Are all psych majors this deranged now?

Muen decided to go completely silent from now on. No more giving this lunatic anything to twist into a report.

“Subject has entered prolonged silence. Possibly suffering from severe psychological trauma due to prior incident. Recommending electroshock therapy.”

“That’s ENOUGH ALREADY!”

...

...

“How did it go?”

Celicia looked at the adult woman emerging from the room.

“He’s fine, right, Dean Hatherway?”

“Of course he’s fine.”

Hatherway gave the paper in her hand—now decorated with dozens of little red flowers—a glance, then crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash.

“Physically, he was clearly injured pretty badly, but someone gave him professional treatment. Mentally and physically? Completely robust. Feels like he could go on dates with seven girls at once and not even flinch.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Celicia replied flatly.

“Oh? You’re that worried about him? Because he’s your fiancé?” Hatherway teased with interest, noting Celicia’s serious expression.

“I remember you used to hate him, didn’t you?”

“...”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop. That look is scary, Your Highness.”

Removing her gold glasses, Hatherway revealed a face of mature, elegant beauty.

“His mental state seems fine. No signs of Evil God corruption.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Hatherway smiled sweetly.

“I only talked with him for ten minutes, but he looked at my thighs at least twenty times. For a grown man, I’d say that’s textbook normal.”

“...The Dean’s evaluation methods are certainly unique,” Celicia said coldly.

“Alright, don’t get mad. But at least now you know—he’s especially into black stockings, isn’t he?”

“I think you’re mistaken.”

Celicia lowered her eyes.

“I’m worried about him purely out of my responsibility as Student Council President. There’s nothing more to it.”

“Ohoho. Let’s go with that.”

“Anyway, is your other assignment going okay?” Celicia switched topics.

“Of course not.”

Hatherway immediately grimaced.

“That whole mess is going nowhere.”

“That difficult? I remember you were temporarily reassigned because of something related to Evil Gods.”

Celicia raised an eyebrow.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I can tell you part of it.”

“Part?”

“I was reassigned for two missions. One of them is the Empire’s highest-level classified secret—everyone involved had to sign Silence Contracts. So even you, Celicia, I can’t say anything.”

“Pink Bear already told me about that.”

Celicia nodded. “What about the other?”

“The other...”

Hatherway paused to think.

“It’s not exactly a secret among the higher-ups, and it didn’t involve direct contact with an Evil God, so there’s no harm in sharing it.”

“There’s a small village near Lake Beipol. It was destroyed overnight.”

“Overnight?”

Celicia’s expression tensed.

“What about the villagers?”

“Gone. Every single one.”

Hatherway’s tone was grim.

“We searched the entire village. All we found was a recently buried head—beneath an unmarked gravestone.”

“A head?”

Celicia frowned.

Hundreds of people missing, and only a head left behind? That was beyond eerie.

“Yes, a woman’s head. She was a registered B-rank adventurer with the guild, though she’d withdrawn from activity citing marriage. The village seemed to be her hometown. We did tests and confirmed—her head was contaminated by an Evil God.”

“Which one?”

“Who else? The most active of the Evil Gods—the Corrupting Love God.”

“Again?”

Celicia’s gaze darkened.

That same Love God had only just caused trouble at the Academy not long ago.

“Busy little thing, that Corrupting God.”

“Tell me about it. I don’t know why an Evil God would be so damn hardworking—it’s killing us regular folks with overtime.”

Hatherway gritted her teeth. If she’d been present during that Love God’s invasion, she’d have personally dragged the Grand Rite out and blasted Him into oblivion—for all the paperwork He’d caused her.

“But... something like that wouldn’t normally push you this hard, would it?”

Celicia asked with suspicion.

“Destroying a village is horrible, but in the grand scheme of Evil God events, it’s not even top-tier.”

“You’re absolutely right. It seems like just another contamination incident. Normally, I wouldn’t even be sent. That’s what the Empire’s Silence Contract agents are for.”

“But the problem is... this one was too clean.”

Even Hatherway didn’t seem to notice how serious her voice had become.

“The site was eerily clean. Aside from the pollution inside that head, we found nothing. Signs of battle, yes—but zero detectable magic residue. Like some invisible black hand wiped it all away.”

“No magic... was it a warrior?”

“We considered warriors, mages, even Divine Favor holders. We’ve got nothing—just theories.”

“What about the woman’s background?”

“Difficult to trace. Adventurers are freelance by nature. We did find that her emotional ties with two other adventurers she worked with were... complicated. And they’ve disappeared, too.”

“We suspect those two also died in the incident. That emotional mess might’ve been the corruption’s trigger.”

“But...”

Hatherway gave a bitter smile.

“Knowing that doesn’t help. We still have zero grasp of the true nature of the event.”

“No wonder...”

Celicia began to understand.

Compared to the usual messes of Evil God contamination, this «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» clean, trace-less incident was even more unnerving.

It made one wonder—was this all part of another of their schemes?

Especially considering this happened near Berrland...

No wonder the higher-ups panicked and sent Hatherway, the top authority in the Empire when it came to Evil God studies.

“We even spent a fortune to hire the Grand Astrologer in the Holy City, hoping his Grand Prophecy might offer a clue.”

Hatherway sighed. The cost was technically reimbursed—but it still stung.

If she’d handled it herself, she could’ve pocketed a nice cut.

“So? What did he say?” Celicia asked.

“‘Beware the yellow hair.’”

“...What?”

Even Celicia—normally unshakably composed—blinked.

“You heard me right. The Grand Astrologer’s message was: beware yellow hair.”

Hatherway covered her face in despair.

“He said, even through the fog caused by Evil God interference, he could just barely make out a key figure in this event—someone with distinctly yellow hair.”

“So he told us... to beware yellow hair.”

“Yellow hair... that’s incredibly vague, isn’t it?”

“Exactly!”

Hatherway was on the verge of tears.

“Is it pale yellow from malnutrition? Or golden blonde? Long? Short? He couldn’t say anything more specific!”

“...”

“And even if we had specifics, what then? How many blondes are there in Berrland? Has anyone counted?”

She pointed dramatically toward the hospital room.

“Even your precious fiancé counts as yellow-haired. Maybe we should detain him for questioning? Who knows—we might dig up some leads.”

“...Anyway. Good luck with that.”

Celicia didn’t know what else to say. She could only offer a dry word of encouragement.

“Sigh... just one damn thing after another lately. What’s gotten into these Evil Gods?”

Hatherway rubbed her temples in pain.

Compared to the Beipol Lake incident, the other matter—the one she couldn’t talk about—was far worse.

The influence of a divine war was just too unpredictable. The entire upper echelon of Berrland was already on edge.

And now—two whole Evil Gods had invaded the Academy.

Hatherway honestly suspected there’d been some kind of Evil God convention recently.

“Still... I’m impressed you managed to make time for the Academy during all this.”

Celicia remarked.

“Must’ve set you back quite a bit.”

“Well... this place is my favorite school,” Hatherway said, gazing out the window.

Despite all that had happened, the scenery outside was exactly the same.

That finally made her smile.

“But I have no intention of getting involved in Academy affairs again.”

There was a hint of schadenfreude in her voice, as if she were picturing the chaos Pink Bear and the other professors were facing—having to deal with all the questioning visitors, scrambling for answers after the Love God and Silent Moon incident.

“Honestly... being relieved of my duties as Dean for a bit? Not so bad.”

...

...

“Holy Sword? What Holy Sword?”

SLAM! Pink Bear slammed his paw on the office desk, glaring at the knight in silver armor across from him.

“The Church of Life lost its Holy Sword, and you’re saying our Saint Maria Academy has it?”

“But—!”

The knight from the Church gritted his teeth.

“According to our intel, when the Love God controlled the Saintess, He did use the Holy Sword to attack!”

“Intel?”

Pink Bear’s round eyes widened theatrically.

“We’re a closed-campus institution. Where’d you get your intel, huh?”

“I—”

The knight’s face twitched.

“Don’t tell me...”

Pink Bear leaned in, expression full of meaning.

“You didn’t get scammed by some sleazy information broker, did you?”

“YOU—!”

The knight was livid.

“You’d better think carefully. That’s the Holy Sword of the Church of Life!”

“Even so, we all have to follow due process.”

Pink Bear spread his arms.

“Today you lost a Holy Sword. Tomorrow, maybe a Saintess. If your Pope’s underwear goes missing next week, will you be knocking on our door again?”

“YOU BASTARD! How dare you blaspheme His Holiness the Pope!”

“Blaspheme? Don’t twist my words. Are you saying the Pope doesn’t wear underwear?”

“YOU COURT DEATH!”

The knight exploded, drawing his longsword and slashing down.

Fortunately, he retained a shred of reason and didn’t aim for Pink Bear—instead, he cleaved the desk in half.

But the moment the desk split—

“AAAH! My DESK!”

Pink Bear screamed in anguish.

“What’s going on in here?!”

Professor Garan burst in with a whole crowd of teachers.

He scanned the room quickly, then rushed to Pink Bear’s side.

“Are you okay, Acting Dean? Did he attack you?”

“No, not me. My desk.”

“...Your desk?”

Only now did Garan notice the desk had been cleaved in half. He gasped in horror.

“That desk... isn’t that the one made from ten-thousand-year spiritwood? The one worth as much as a Holy Sword? How did it end up like this?!”

“He chopped it in half! My desk...”

Pink Bear wailed, hugging half the broken desk like he was ready to be buried with it.

“This is an outrage! Absolutely outrageous!”

Garan stood up straight, righteous fury in his eyes as he faced the now twitching knight.

“What did our Acting Dean ever do to deserve this? That desk is priceless! His most beloved possession! Even if you’re from the Church, you must explain yourself!”

“It’s just a cheap desk—”

“Excuse me? You’re discriminating against desks now?! Desks can’t be priceless?! I’m telling you—it is worth its weight in gold!”

Garan puffed out his chest, the crowd of teachers behind him nodding in support.

“Don’t even think about weaseling out of this!”

“YOU PEOPLE—!”

The knight’s face turned crimson with fury.

As a holy knight of the Church of Life, he had never been so humiliated.

They were just trying to dodge responsibility for the Holy Sword!

“You’ll all regret this—I’ll be back!”

Realizing there was nothing more he could do but be mocked, the knight turned on his heel and stormed out.

“Bring money next time to pay for the desk!”

Garan whistled cheerfully at the knight’s retreating back.

“Or just bring another Holy Sword.”

The knight stumbled outside—and then vanished from view.

“You two are the only ones who can handle these church fanatics.”

With a sigh—somewhere between admiration and annoyance—Professor Prang entered the room, leaning on a new cane.

“Well, it’s not like we wanted to. That person just waltzed in and took the sword without saying a word.”

Garan grimaced.

“No one wants to get tangled up with the Church of Life. It’s a massive headache.”

“Hah, I’m the one getting screwed here, okay?!”

Pink Bear reached into his mouth, pulled out a furry paw, and lit a cigar.

“I’m just the acting dean. And for the Academy’s sake, I’ve had to offend so many people lately. What if they stop letting their cute little sisters hang out with me?!”

“Well, the Academy’s been under the spotlight non-stop.”

Garan sighed, too.

Yes, that person had resolved the Evil God incident—but the Academy had suffered.

The Silent Moon’s final explosion of madness had drawn far too much attention.

Now, everyone was "checking in" on the Academy—really, just trying to dig up secrets.

At least the Church just wanted their sword back.

Others... wanted a whole lot more.

“So, we’re counting on you, Acting Dean Pink Bear.”

Prang looked up with a rare, “kind” smile.

“...Huh?”

Pink Bear flinched, his cigar falling from his paw.

“It’s not over yet?”

“What are you saying, Dean? There’s an important meeting next.”

“What meeting?”

“A security inquiry meeting. Led by Marquis Colbert. A whole bunch of nobles want answers about our Academy.”

“...Is it important?”

“Of course it is. You know how much of our funding comes from noble donations.”

Prang gave him a meaningful look.

“If you screw this up, well... your cigars and gravure magazines might just—”

“Be unavailable?”

“No. We’ll have to formally investigate your embezzlement of Academy funds.”

Prang gave a cold smile.

“Back then, every penny counted.”

“...”