༺[Noel's POV]༻
I was in my office together with Clara, reviewing how the first lecture would play out.
The room smelled faintly of old paper and lavender wax.
Sunlight streamed in through the large mullioned windows, casting shadows over the brass instruments, notebooks, and scrolls cluttered neatly on my desk.
The mechanical hum of the mana regulator in the corner was the only other sound, soft and rhythmic like a heartbeat.
Outwardly, I was composed—calm, professional, as if this routine was second nature to me.
But inside?
I was panicking.
I wasn't a seasoned professor.
Not truly.
I was a corporate office worker in my previous life—Excel sheets, quarterly reports, endless emails.
Teaching an entire class of magical engineering students, both first and second years, felt like being tossed into a dragon's den with nothing but a spoon.
And on top of that, I expected the first lecture to be perfect.
I sighed under my breath.
"Why did the faculty decide that I should teach and manage not only one but two classes...?"
The question came out of me, low and bitter, barely a murmur—meant more for the air than for anyone to hear.
But Clara did.
She turned from the shelves where she was arranging a stack of textbooks.
The late morning sun lit up her features, catching the slight curve of her cheekbones and painting a golden line over her tied-up light brown hair.
Her brown eyes sparkled—not because she was amused, but because they always seemed to hold some kind of warmth.
It was the kind of look that could disarm most people.
"Is it too much for you?"
She asked gently.
She tilted her head slightly, smiling the way one might smile to a stray cat—soft, patient, unassuming.
"I could talk to the faculty and have them reduce or remove one class to ease the workload for you... I am supposed to look after you, after all."
She smiled a little more at that, and something in my chest tightened.
That smile.
I hated how beautiful it was.
Because I had seen her journal.
I knew she was secretly investigating me.
She was trying to expose something—me, perhaps, or the mess left behind by the original Noel Saint Grenn.
I didn't know how far she'd gotten, or what her plan was.
But I decided, for now, to act like I didn't know.
It was the safest course of action.
And truth be told, I needed answers too.
I still didn't know what kind of man the original Noel was, or where all those stolen funds had gone.
But those answers could wait.
Perfecting the first lecture couldn't.
"No..."
I said, my voice colder than I intended.
"...I can manage."
Clara didn't flinch, though I noticed her fingers tightening slightly around the papers she was holding.
She turned back to the desk and began sorting the lecture materials.
Leather-bound notebooks, parchment grids filled with rune diagrams, copies of the engineering syllabus.
"Your first lecture will be with both the first-year and second-year students."
Clara said as she flipped through the notes.
"In the Ganesha Hall.
The Ironlight Atrium may be the most advanced in the MET division, but Ganesha was chosen for its capacity—it's the only one that can accommodate a full combined class."
I nodded slowly, watching her work.
Efficient. Sharp.
She moved like this was routine.
Like none of this felt heavy on her shoulders.
Figures as a seasoned civil servant who had worked on much harder objectives.
"There are one hundred and forty-three students assigned."
She continued, scanning her checklist.
"A full cohort from both years.
The second-years will be sitting with the freshers this time, which includes the department assistants as well."
That explained the extra copies of everything.
I stayed silent, though my stomach felt tight.
The nerves hadn't left.
But I still had my pride.
Clara picked up a thick, dark-bound book labeled Principles of Arcanodynamics and Mana Conduction.
She tapped the spine twice, aligning it with the pile of lecture materials.
"You'll start with the foundations."
She said.
"Arcanodynamics and how it relates to mana conduction systems in enchanted constructs.
I've included the standard diagrams, the flow models, and made sure the mana converters and conduit visualizers are pre-tuned for demonstration."
I exhaled slowly.
One hundred and forty-three students.
No pressure, right?
She looked like she wanted to add something, but paused.
Then, as if she just remembered, she turned back to me.
"Oh—right, I ran into your younger brother yesterday."
That caught my attention.
I turned fully to face her.
"Nox?"
She nodded.
My voice came out quieter than I expected.
"How is he doing?"
Clara's eyes softened.
"He's doing well. Not a single worry in that face of his."
She looked thoughtful, her smile returning as she added.
"But… he has the same resting face you always have, Sir Grenn."
I raised a brow.
"What do you mean by that?"
I crossed my arms, the sound of the rubber on my black gloves squeaking faintly against the long fabric of my dark trench coat.
I wore it out of habit—it gave me a sense of separation from the rest of the world.
Clara's face turned a shade pinker as she realized what she just said.
"I-I didn't mean that in a bad way!"
She panicked, waving her hands a little.
"I mean it's just... your face is always so serious-looking, not that it's a bad face, or that your brother looks—um, intimidating.
He just looks... really focused!
Like you!
I'm sorry!"
I couldn't help it.
I smiled faintly.
"That's good."
I said simply.
"If Nox seems well, like you say, that's all I needed to hear."
Still…
'Why did Mother and Natalie ask me to check up on him, then...?'
There was something about their request that didn't sit right with me.
'I'll have to look for him and check up on him personally...'
I concluded the thought, letting it settle quietly in my chest as I straightened my coat and glanced once more at the lecture notes.
With everything gathered, Clara and I stepped out of the office, heading into the long corridor that led to the Ganesha Hall.
***
As Clara stepped out of the office, balancing the neat stack of books and lecture materials in her arms, her mind wandered.
She remembered it all quite clearly now.
The cafeteria.
It had only been yesterday after all—after that incident with an Assistant Professor.
Just as she was trying to clean up, a hand reached out to her.
Slender, gloved fingers held a neatly folded paper towel.
Clara blinked up.
The student standing before her wore the standard uniform—an unwrinkled blue blazer over a crisp white shirt tucked into dark blue pants.
His black tie marked him as part of a different cohort.
His presence felt still, composed, oddly heavy.
Black hair framed his youthful face, the uneven bangs lightly brushing the top of his eyes—those piercing yellow eyes that locked onto hers.
"Oh, you're…"
Clara murmured, recognition dawning in her voice.
But before she could finish her sentence, the boy interrupted, his tone flat and almost disinterested.
"You're his assistant manager, aren't you?"
Clara froze.
'Those eyes…'
She thought.
There was no mistaking it.
It had been some time since she had last seen them—last seen him.
The younger brother of her superior.
The last time had been years ago, in passing, at the Saint Grenn family estate when she'd accompanied the Manager—Noel—for a formal visit.
And now here he was.
Taller.
Sharper.
But still bearing that exact same aura of unreadable intent.
"Oh, hello… well… u-umm yes, but—"
She tried to respond, fumbling with her words.
But again, she was cut off before she could say more.
"I didn't think you'd be his assistant professor too."
The boy remarked, his tone unreadable as ever.
Then, with no change in expression, he added one more line:
"Word of advice, since you're still new—stay away from people like Professor Brael or anyone affiliated with him."
That was all.
He turned on his heel and walked away without looking back, leaving Clara speechless in the middle of the cafeteria.
No explanation.
No further comment.
Just a blunt warning from a boy who carried the same cold intensity as his brother.
***
I made my way into Ganesha Hall, the ironclad doors groaning open as I stepped inside.
The vast atrium was cold despite the sunlight filtering in from the cathedral-like windows lining both sides.
The architecture felt more like a sanctuary than a lecture hall.
Vaulted ceilings, brass piping intertwined with arcane inscriptions, and a recessed pool pit in the center surrounded by stepped seating.
Everything in this place screamed of prestige and power.
My footsteps echoed against the marbled floor as I walked down to the teaching podium.
The moment I set the stack of lecture notes onto the brass-plated desk, the idle chatter died.
A quiet tension filled the air.
One by one, students began taking their seats in hushed movements, uncertain eyes glancing toward the center.
And yet—two voices cut through the silence.
Bickering.
More precisely, one voice hurling barbed words like it was his birthright.
I narrowed my gaze.
Toward the left side of the hall, in a half-occupied row, I saw them—two boys standing.
One of them with blonde hair, his posture arrogant, chin raised high.
The other—a smaller student with thin glasses and a tightly gripped notebook, his blue tie half askew, eyes glued to the floor like he wanted to disappear.
The blonde sneered as he jabbed a thumb toward the seats a few rows above.
"You lowborn piece of filth, you nearly brushed up against her.
Do you want to lose your damn arm?
Sit somewhere else.
Or do I need to carve the word respect into your back?"
I walked toward them calmly, not saying a word at first.
The bespectacled boy noticed me first.
His body jolted.
He looked up, his lips trembling.
"S-Senior P-Professor..."
Before he could finish, the noble interrupted again, without even bothering to acknowledge me.
"This rat tried to sit near the princess's row!"
He spat.
"Can you believe that?
We let scum like this into the MET division now?
I swear, even wild dogs have more sense than some of these commoners.
This entire layout should've been reserved—"
"..."
"So all this… because he's a commoner?"
I cut in, my voice low but hard.
He blinked, turning to face me like he was only just realizing who I was.
The boy with glasses shrank further, and up ahead, I caught sight of her—the princess.
Golden-white hair tied back neatly, her black tie marking her as a second year.
She was seated three rows ahead, perfectly still, watching everything unfold.
Of course he was terrified.
He'd probably just brushed past her desk accidentally, and in his mind, it was already enough to be branded a criminal.
It pissed me off.
I shifted my attention back to the blonde.
"You're an assistant, aren't you?"
I asked, noting the MET division emblem stitched proudly on his left blazer pocket.
He straightened slightly.
"W-Well… yes, but—"
"You of all people should know that status doesn't mean anything in this academy."
I said, my voice sharp enough to cut.
"You're not in some noble hunting lodge.
You're in the heart of the Magic Engineering Division.
You're expected to uphold discipline and order.
And instead of deescalating the situation, you aggravated it."
He opened his mouth but I raised a gloved hand.
"Not only have you failed to act like an assistant professor—you've made yourself look like an uneducated, pompous idiot.
And to think you had the gall to lecture someone else on respect."
He clenched his fists at his sides, jaw tightening.
"What's your name?"
I asked coolly.
"…D-Dimitrius Von Harthen."
He replied through gritted teeth.
Figures.
I barely had time to register his name before another stir spread through the rows behind me.
I turned slightly and saw her—the princess—standing and descending the steps with all the grace of someone born into the center of the world.
Golden strands glinted in the light.
Her uniform, like the others, was navy blue, but it fit her like it had been tailored by court hands.
Blue skirt.
Blue blazer.
That unmistakable black tie.
The Holy Emperor's daughter.
One of the Empire's highest-born nobles, and quite possibly—if this world still followed the predictable RoFan logic—one of the game's main heroines.
She moved past me with quiet poise, her steps light, eyes locked on the boy with glasses, who was practically trying to curl into his own shadow.
Then she spoke, gently.
"You can sit there.
I'll take a seat at the front."
She turned again, passing by me without pause, her long hair brushing my coat sleeve.
And as she sat down near the podium, she glanced up toward me with a soft, emotionless expression and said,
"I'm sorry, Senior Professor.
Since the matter is now resolved, may we begin the lesson?"
The hall was dead silent again.
All eyes shifted to me.
I exhaled once, slowly, letting the tension crackle in the still air.
"This—"
I said firmly.
"—is the first and last time something like this happens in my class."
My voice carried, low and sharp like steel drawn from a sheath.
"I don't tolerate bullying here.
I don't care what house you come from, what color your blood is, or who bows to your family name.
If you want to drag that filth into my lecture hall, you can pick your teeth off the floor on the way out."
Then I turned, one final look toward Dimitrius Von Harthen.
"And you… for someone named after nobility, you're surprisingly incapable of acting like it."
He visibly stiffened, face reddening as the room remained dead quiet.
"Everyone take your seats. The class is beginning."
I turned toward the podium, coat brushing past the brass stand.
As I began arranging my notes, I felt her eyes on me again.
The princess, watching with a gaze unreadable, her lips curling ever so slightly into a smirk.
I ignored it.
"Today's lesson..."
I began, flipping the top page with a gloved hand.
"...is on Arcanodynamics and Mana Conduction—the very foundation of engineered magic systems."
I cleared my throat and let my voice rise.
"Open your notebooks."
Let the class begin.