Chapter 282: Trust

"Pro! Fes! Sor! Prang!"

"Want some coffee?"

"Ah, thank you, Professor Garan."

"Don’t mention it. You’re quite the rare guest in my office."

"This coffee’s really good."

"Hehe, of course it is. These beans are cultivated by myself—you won’t find them on the market."

"Really? Then may I have the honor of visiting... ah, no, wait, I didn’t come here for coffee!"

Almost led astray by Professor Garan, Muen came back to his senses. He looked at the elder sitting leisurely across the desk, sipping his coffee, slapped the table, and demanded:

"Professor Prang! Why did you suddenly set such a strange rule? Wasn’t it you who invited me to represent the Academy in the Holy City?"

"Of course I invited you. As I said before, that was the result of many considerations."

Professor Prang sipped his coffee slowly, his tone calm:

"But I also said, didn’t I? The Academy’s rules are the Academy’s rules. That doesn’t conflict with me inviting you to the Holy City. And I wasn’t targeting you specifically—the regulation I issued applies equally to everyone."

"But, but you can’t say things like that, can you?"

Muen let out a sigh:

"Saying there won’t be any involvement of status or identity, and no retaliation afterward—that’s clearly aimed at me, the Duke’s son who, in their eyes, has nothing but identity."

"What, no confidence?"

Professor Prang cast a glance at him.

"Of course I have confidence."

Muen shrugged. "On the contrary, the reason I don’t like it is... I think it’s a waste of time."

"Waste of time?" Professor Prang raised a brow in some surprise.

"That’s right, a waste of time."

Muen repeated it, very seriously.

"Is that so?"

Seeing not a hint of jest in Muen’s eyes, Professor Prang paused, set down his cup, and sighed lightly:

"Seems I was being unnecessary. But since I’ve already said it, just endure it."

"Professor Prang can be shameless too, huh..."

Muen clicked his tongue, then suddenly his gaze sharpened:

"Speaking of which, I came to you for another reason as well."

"What is it?"

"The accompanying personnel for this Academy trip—who are they?"

"Oh?"

Professor Prang unconsciously tapped the desk twice, a little surprised.

"You’re interested in that?"

"Of course. This concerns my life and safety."

Muen said earnestly, "Not a thing to be careless about."

"Heh, just a moment ago you said you were confident, yet you’re still this timid."

Professor Prang’s mouth curved, his smile carrying a subtle meaning:

"But don’t worry, the Academy will surely do its utmost to protect you all. Aside from the necessary teachers, there will also be a special powerhouse this time."

"A special powerhouse?"

Muen asked, "Who? Do I know them? How strong are they?"

"You naturally know them. But as for who exactly, you’ll find out then."

Professor Prang stroked his chin. "As for how strong... I can only say... not weaker than a Crowned one."

"Not weaker than a Crowned one?"

A Crowned one is a Crowned one.

What does not weaker than even mean?

Could there be some fierce person who isn’t Crowned, yet can stand alongside a Crowned?

Among the people he knew, was there such a person?

"What does that mean?"

"I told you, you’ll know then."

"Fine."

Seeing Professor Prang unwilling to say more, Muen lost interest in pressing the issue.

But right after, he sank into his own thoughts.

Maybe, to be safe, he should make some more preparations himself?

...

After Muen left.

Professor Garan sat down in the chair Muen had just occupied and asked curiously:

"This kind of rule that draws hatred doesn’t seem like your style. Could it be you, like before, just dislike that boy?"

"Heh, the one who dislikes him most right now isn’t me."

Professor Prang lifted his cup again, took a calm sip, and said:

"I’m merely acting under orders."

"Oh?"

Professor Garan froze for a moment, then caught on and whistled pleasantly:

"So that’s it. I get it now—it’s a family matter."

"No."

Professor Prang denied it outright, his tone stern:

"This is a matter of the state."

...

"Hmph hmph, now Muen Campbell can’t go with us to the Holy City. That’s great."

On the way back from the auditorium, looking at the restless crowd searching for someone, Ariel put her hands on her hips and nodded in satisfaction.

In this world, justice still exists after all.

So what if you have a bit ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) of money and status? In the end, what the world relies on is still one’s own strength!

Muen Campbell, in the end, will have to pay the bitter price for his arrogance!

"B-but... I don’t think that’s certain."

Liya suddenly spoke from the side.

"Hm? Why not?" Ariel looked over, puzzled.

"Because Muen Campbell is working hard too. This time his final exam results—all above ninety."

"Huh? Really?"

Ariel thought about it but had no impression.

Of course, aside from a rare few people, she almost never paid attention to others’ grades, let alone that Muen Campbell.

"But, if he spent all his time dealing with exams, doesn’t that just mean his actual strength isn’t very good? After all, last semester he was at the very bottom in every aspect. To make up both overall strength and exam scores in just one semester—how could anyone do that?

Don’t you agree, Liya?"

"...Mm."

Liya nodded lightly, as if wanting to say more but stopping.

But seeing the firm belief on Ariel’s face, she ultimately said nothing.

Because in truth, making up both overall strength and exam grades in just one semester—someone had indeed done it before.

That person was Ariel herself.

She too had entered the Academy as a count’s illegitimate daughter, mocked and scorned. But as if with explosive magic under her feet, in just a short semester she had shot upward, slapping the faces of many who had once looked down on her.

"That’s right!"

Ariel suddenly turned her head, looking at Liya with suspicion.

"How did you know about this? Don’t tell me... like the others, you’ve started paying attention to that guy too?"

"N-no, no, not at all!"

A faint blush rose on Liya’s cheeks as she shook her hands hard.

"I just... just happened to see it. Because when the scores were posted, Muen Campbell’s name was pretty close to mine."

"Really?"

"O-of course. Muen Campbell is a notorious villain—how could I possibly care about him?" Liya clenched her pink fists and said seriously.

"I see."

Looking into Liya’s pure eyes, the doubt in Ariel’s heart faded away.

At the same time, she felt ashamed of herself.

Damn it, how could she suspect Liya?

Liya really had nothing to do with Muen Campbell. Then what was this groundless unease in her chest?

Was she just being too nervous?

Seems she needed to reflect on herself. Clutching Liya too tightly might instead make her feel pain.

Rule number three of the Old Lesbian’s Guide to Strategy: giving the other person a bit of freedom and enough trust—that’s the true warmer of feelings!

"Anyway, let’s not talk about that annoying Muen Campbell anymore. I’m off to train. What about you, Liya?"

"...I’m going to the library."

"Then see you tonight?"

"Mm, see you tonight."