I thought I'd grown used to it after hearing it endlessly back at the estate...
But hearing the same insults in a new place, from new people—what could I say?
Honestly, it pissed me off.
'Just endure it for now.'
It was the historic first day of academy enrollment. I couldn't afford to cause a scene right from the start.
What was my goal again? Survive the academy without dying.
That was my top priority.
...So no making enemies yet. Endure. Hold it in.
I swallowed the urge to snap dozens of times, forcing down the boiling rage.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙[Absorbing negative emotion 'Disgust'] [Absorbing negative emotion 'Contempt'] [Absorbing negative emotion 'Revulsion']
Ignoring the system messages blaring like mad, I shrugged off the stares and headed to an empty sofa in the corner.
"Kek."
"Oh, incoming. Run!"
Even though I'd aimed for the most secluded spot to avoid people,
there was always at least one blocking my path.
The moment they noticed I was heading their way, they'd part like the Red Sea.
Of course, it wasn't out of consideration for me—it was blatantly dodging filth.
"Master. Why are those bastards staring like that?"
Imir, following behind with her arms full of luggage, scowled and muttered irritably.
This time, I fully agreed with her.
"...Want me to gouge their eyes out?"
"Stay put. No causing trouble."
She looked ready to drop the bags and charge at them any second,
so I grabbed her just in case and sank deep into the sofa.
Squish.
The plush leather pressed against my back.
"Ugh, damn it. This sucks."
She shot me a glare like Why stop me?, but obediently plopped down beside me, pouting.
Her movements were so exaggerated, and the maid outfit so short, that her skirt rode up precariously the moment she sat.
"Ahem."
"Ooh..."
I could feel the eyes of the guys who'd been watching me all snapping toward her.
'So that's what they were staring at.'
"...Tch."
Tsking at their drooling idiocy, I shrugged off my outer coat and draped it over her knees.
"Hey, it's hot! Why?"
"Cover up. Or dinner's just grass for you."
"...You sneaky bastard."
All this for her sake, and she didn't even realize.
Anyone would think I was threatening her.
She grumbled while clutching the coat but eventually covered up properly.
A former chieftain who turns weak as a kitten at the sight of meat.
"...Sigh."
I glanced at her sulking face, then leaned back into the sofa and slowly closed my eyes.
The unpleasant murmurs around me droned like background noise.
'How should I play this from here?'
Academy life wasn't just attending classes, obviously.
This place was bound to become a nonstop battlefield of incidents and accidents.
So I had to follow the original story's beats, dodge threats aimed at me, and snag any benefits.
And the most important part was...
"Huh? Who's this? Evan Dreadnote, isn't it?"
A sneering voice approached, and I sensed someone drawing near.
I opened my eyes to see a redheaded guy decked out in gaudy jewels, arms crossed, looking down at me.
...?
'Who the hell is this prick?'
The unfamiliar face acting chummy nearly twisted my expression into a scowl, but I held it back.
Let's see... I rummaged through my memories.
His features: red hair, freckles, that punchable smirk.
'Ah.'
Right. An early-game extra in The Glory who picks a fight with the protagonist and gets wrecked.
The second son of the Fernan Count family... Berkis, was it?
"Wow, long time no see, Evan. Still alive? I heard you nearly starved after getting kicked out of your house."
"..."
"Tsk tsk. Guess bastard sons like you have nine lives. Right?"
I had no idea what was so funny to him.
He spat out his piece, didn't wait for a reply, and cackled while fishing for agreement from the crowd.
Seemed he had some hangers-on—a few guys nearby laughed along, hyping him up.
"..."
'Hmm. What would Evan have done here?'
The Evan I knew would've had two reactions.
If the guy was his rank or higher, he'd grovel.
If lower, he'd lord his status arrogantly.
'And this guy's hoping I'll crawl.'
Obvious. He wanted total groveling humiliation.
Yeah. Endure. Just swallow this one insult and...
"Hey, Evan. Deaf now too?"
Endure. It. Endure. Damn it.
I clenched my fist, nearly swinging, chanting inwardly like a mantra.
No incidents yet. Stay off the protagonist's radar. Endure, Evan.
"...Tch. Pathetic. Anyway, that bitch next to you a maid?"
Bored of my stonewalling, his gaze shifted past me to Imir, who sat blankly beside me.
"Well, well. Does the Dreadnote family not train their servants? A maid sitting brazenly on the sofa like that. Guess trash recognizes trash, master or maid."
"..."
"Still, she's pretty hot. Hmm..."
Whoosh!
Berkis leered at her, flashing a sleazy grin as he reached out and yanked my coat off her lap.
"Why wear anything if you're gonna hide it? Lowborn slut—let's have a look."
"Ah."
That instant.
Snap.
Something snapped in my head after all that holding back.
...This bastard. Keeps crossing the line?
I'd tried to endure. Ignore.
My reputation in the gutter, wastrel label—fine, whatever.
As long as they didn't touch my stuff.
But my possessions? That's different.
"Hey."
"...?"
"Why you keep yapping in my face, you goat-faced fuck?"
"...What?"
He heard me fine. What 'what'?
"Said it already. Why you keep bullshitting in my face, goat boy?"
I recalled how his goat-like mug—perfect for that early-game beatdown—earned him the nickname "Jotkiss" among players.
Up close, he really did look like a goat.
"Master. Master."
"What?"
"You doing this on purpose?"
Yeah. Totally on purpose.
True to her northern roots, she was a pro at picking fights.
Usually dense as a brick, but sniffs out trash-talk like a bloodhound.
As Imir and I chatted under total ignore, Berkis's snickering cut off dead.
"...Goat fuck? Y-You crazy bastard spawn!"
Don't yell. I'm not deaf.
Face beet-red, Berkis jabbed a finger and bellowed.
"Forgot who I am? Berkis! Of the Fernan family! You backwater trash acting all—!"
"Oh~ Fernan. Heard of 'em."
I nodded at his vein-popping rant.
"Of course. That... bumpkin farming family, right?"
"Mines, not farms! And not bumpkins—near the capital!"
"Same diff. So, what's your point?"
I waved him off lazily.
"Urgh...!"
A bit more teasing, and he'd swing for sure.
"Stop wasting my time chasing quiet folks. Go circle-jerk with your buddies."
"You... you...!"
Shooing him like a fly, Berkis trembled, speechless with rage.
Couldn't handle a 'pathetic nobody' like me dismissing him after all that ignoring.
Not my problem.
"Master. You're extra cool today."
"I know."
The pathetic drama around me chilled the room's vibe.
"This fucker...!"
The moment Berkis lost it and raised a hand for my collar—
Thud.
His wrist halted mid-air.
Not by me.
Imir, yawning boredly beside me,
snatched it casually, looking annoyed.
"Gaaah...!"
"Master. What do with this noisy goat? Kill it?"
Without even glancing at Berkis clutching his trapped wrist and screaming,
Imir asked me innocently.
Her grip? Anything but innocent.
I could hear his wrist bones creaking live in my ear: crunch crunch.
"L-Let go! You lowly maid daring touch a noble... Gaaaaah!"
Crack!
"Only one person can call me maid."
That much force would've pulverized bone.
Beyond me quietly impressed, I caught her eyebrow twitching.
About to rein her in—
Creeeak.
The heavy hall doors swung open, a sharp voice slicing through.
"How noisy."
That single line cut the screams.
The hall's air grew heavy instantly.
All eyes turned to the door, where
a stern woman in black robes and silver-rimmed glasses clicked her heels inside.
'Here she comes.'
A professor.
Not just any—head professor for first-years, the infamous witch.
Ingrid von Hainel.
Her sudden appearance paled Berkis, swallowing his scream.
"Private fights are forbidden in the academy. Especially on enrollment day—no fear of demerits, I see."
Her icy gaze swept Berkis, Imir, then me.
"Let go, Imir."
"...Lucky bastard."
"Guh..."
At my order, she snorted and roughly released him.
Apparently gripped too hard—his limp wrist sent him sprawling grotesquely, groaning.
"Evan, young master of House Dreadnote. And her? Attendant?"
"Personal maid."
"Fierce for a maid. Whatever."
She asked no more and ascended the podium.
"Everyone, sit. We now begin the class placement exam for noble-track enrollees."
Class placement exam.
While commoners and low nobles took practical and written tests for class assignment,
high nobles were evaluated differently.
'So...'
Under the premise of early education, they measured potential and capacity.
"Simple method."
Professor Ingrid snapped her fingers in the air.
Hummm.
The hall's magic circle glowed blue.
"This hall has a special mana-suppression summoning array. I'll now release my mana to pressure you."
Pressure via mana... clever.
Playing protagonist, I'd just done standard entrance exams.
Had no clue highborn tests were like this.
"Endure. Classes assigned by duration and composure.
Fall or lose consciousness? Immediate fail—D-class."
Indeed.
Simple enough for idiots, but brutal.
Test how well mere students held against an academy professor's overwhelming power.
Perfect for probing noble pride and grit.
"Pfft. Easy."
"S-class for me, obviously."
'Idiots.'
Naive or stupid?
I tuned out their chatter.
"Then... begin."
No sooner said—
Rumble!
Invisible pressure crushed the hall.
"Urk!"
"Hngh...!"
Groans erupted everywhere.
Berkis, mocking me moments ago, went white and dropped to his knees instantly.
Others sweated, trembling.
Ingrid was a 6th-circle archmage.
In The Glory, her skill was no joke—one of the elite.
Her mana pressure? Beyond fresh students.
But.
'...Easier than expected?'
I stood arms crossed, unfazed.
Heavy, sure. Like a sack of rice on my shoulders?
That was it.
Compared to Imir's northern killing intent,
that monstrous aura—this was a spring breeze.
Plus, the Black King's Ring bolstered my soul and body.
This mana? Zero effect.
"Grk..."
"S-Save..."
The hall devolved over time.
Most down, foaming.
Holdouts strained, veins bulging, howling.
From the podium, the professor's eyes narrowed at one spot—
me, standing utterly serene in the corner.
Our gazes locked.
'Well, well?'
A smile tugged her lips, like she'd said it aloud.
"Impressive."
Provocative grin, and she gestured—pressure intensified.
Booom!
Nothing like before.
Floors cracked; remaining students screamed, collapsing.
'Perfect pressure now.'
The crush kneading my body even felt refreshing.
This intensity? Decent massage.
Loosening shoulder knots from the carriage ride.
Bliss.
"M-Monster..."
Nearby, a girl gripping her knees muttered at me, face drained.
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