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Translator: uly
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Catching the Bread Thief (3)
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Every early spring at the start of the new semester, the small southern city of Pharenchia welcomed an unprecedented crowd.
It was the season when students enrolling in the academy and servants from various families left their hometowns for foreign lands.
The dirt roads outside the city walls were covered in horseshoe prints. The commercial district and clothing shops were packed to the brim.
Gazing at the increasingly bustling streets and academy grounds day by day, Adella's friend Lina let out a sigh of relief. If they hadn't left early, it would have been a total mess.
Today was the first day of classes.
Some freshmen were still frantically checking their assigned classrooms while hastily unpacking in the dorms.
Lina, who had prepared in advance, looked at Adella, who was sitting blankly on her bed.
'Wow... She really does look like a painting.'
Could a mere noble from the borderlands like herself ever have imagined sharing a room with someone from the illustrious Roshiar family?
Whether called the Spear of Reversal or the Flower of the North Sea...
There were as many ways to refer to Roshiar as there were stars in the sky, but at least among the ones that came to Lina's mind right now, the latter suited her better.
Even fresh out of bed with sleepy eyes, Adella's appearance was beyond impeccable, making one double-check if she was really wearing the standard cadet uniform and cape.
Not just her stunning looks, but her gentle, rounded personality and lively demeanor too.
"Hey, Lina."
"Yeah?"
"Is it really necessary for bread to exist in this world?"
If only she didn't occasionally spout bizarre nonsense that made one question her intelligence...
"What kind of talk is that...?"
"Think about it. If the canteen sold pasta instead of bread, no one would tell me to steal it. I should suggest it sometime."
"That's ridiculous. Anyway, hurry up. We've only got thirty minutes left."
Dragging the out-of-left-field Adella along, she headed to the lecture hall.
Being late for the first class was absolutely unforgivable.
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The curriculum at Pharenchia Academy spans a total of three years.
In the first year, students learn the basics of magic and swordsmanship while taking liberal arts courses to cultivate a noble spirit.
Within the massive society that was the academy, differences in status and wealth began to show from the moment of enrollment.
Heirs from prestigious families focused more on social activities during their first year, scraping by with just the minimum credits.
For them, building relationships was key.
On the other hand, lower nobles with minor titles, no lands, or those perpetually strapped for cash—contrary to the vague fantasies of the masses—had to study like mad to cling to their grades.
When desperately short on money, some even went into town for part-time jobs or pooled funds to invest in merchant caravans.
In a lecture hall filled with students of all sorts, the 'Basic Magic Theory' class was underway.
The girl seated in the front row, eyes glued to the blackboard—Liv Greenwood clearly belonged to the latter group.
"The resource needed for magic, namely the total amount of mana we commonly refer to, is mana itself. Among them, the white magic you'll encounter most often manifests through the refined process of mana."
The professor's lecture covered the fundamentals of magic theory, the first topic any aspiring mage encountered.
Liv, who had taken this course last year, was no stranger to it.
"On the other hand, this world has another substance opposing mana. Observed in trace amounts in the air, soil, and even living beings here—Karma is precisely that."
Every mage harbors both energies within their body and must balance them according to the type of magic they wield.
Since Karma increases slightly with intentional killing, some students already unfamiliar with magic looked frightened.
To reassure them, the professor joked.
"No need to worry too much. Mana or Karma, they're both just fuel for manifesting magic— no real difference there."
"But doesn't that mean murderers who kill people indiscriminately can use stronger magic?"
"Not wrong, but—the increase is minuscule. Think the other way around. Hunting demons, demonic beasts, or monsters raises Karma too. How do you think the kingdom's elite Hooksclo Knights got so strong?"
"By hunting demons in Helzev..."
"Exactly. No reason to be prejudiced at all. Besides white and black magic, some Penheim families' unique magics use both mana and Karma."
With that, the professor wrapped up, advising against meaningless killing just to boost Karma.
Fair enough. Accumulating Karma was as tough as steadily training to increase one's mana total.
Toward the end of the lecture, the professor announced preparations for next class.
"Alright, next week we'll do a practical measuring your mana and Karma. They've stocked Litvice Test Paper at the canteen, so bring that."
"Litvice?"
"Yes. Lit for light, Vice for vice. Thin paper that detects the color of evil, basically. Starts white, turns redder with more Karma."
"Eek!? So then...!"
"Haha, don't worry. Most of you'll be close to bright yellow."
As the lecture ended, some boys snickered with sly glances.
As the professor said, Litvice Test Paper measured the mana-Karma ratio, but it had one little side effect.
A fragment of the subject's memories transferred directly onto the paper.
Usually just a tiny snippet of life, but if lucky, you might catch something intriguing.
Like bathing, changing clothes, or the moment of adolescent awakening.
Since people spend a third of their lives in bed, even sleep could be spied on.
Liv passed by the group scheming which girl's Litvice to snag and headed out.
"Hey, Adella. Remember what I said yesterday?"
"Y-Yeah..."
"Oh right. Grab some Litvice after the next lecture? Let me see how grand the Roshiar lady's mansion is."
"Th-That... um..."
"What, got a problem!?"
"Ow, it hurts! Okay, okay! Don't hit me!!"
'Pathetic.'
She thought of both standing in the hallway.
Whether the half-baked mage bearing that great family name getting bullied, or the knight-aspirant strutting on another family's backing—both equally pitiful.
Early semester noble hierarchy sorting could get rough or underhanded, so she let it slide.
'How much money left...?'
Liv reached for her pebble-light wallet.
Probably enough for the test paper.
Scholarship needed to come through soon—this academy was notorious for slow admin.
With a small sigh, she hurried to the canteen. Lunch rush would pack it soon.
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—One sausage bread here!
—One Partagas Mild cigar. Got flint stones too?
—Any spare parchment?
—What's on the second floor?
—Uncle, money's here!
Insanely busy.
Madly busy.
With just me, the owner, in this huge canteen, lunch hour tore it apart nonstop.
The long line mixed students and errand boy servants in total chaos.
Canteen rules plastered in the handbook were useless against lunch-time student hordes.
Especially in March, start of term.
"Yes, here you go! Flints are bottom left shelf! For tobacco, write your salon debut and family name there! Parchment's way over on the right past the study aids, second floor's off-limits!"
—Uncle, the money...
"I'm not 'Uncle'!!!"
"..."
"..."
Brief silence. Then noise resumed.
Given my main customers' status, I usually minded my manners.
Like Kano worried, half-talk to nobles was rare. Mostly when catching thieves.
"You know? In some distant world's tiny peninsula, they count age weirdly. I'm a foreigner, but this is Penheim Kingdom? 'When in Rome'? So I'm still 28..."
—Whatever, just take the money. Sell a ton, uncle!
Sigh, never mind.
Took a while for the crowd to thin.
Retired life, what drudgery.
Sorting coins piling on the counter for a breather—then something popped up over it.
"One bundle of Litvice Test Paper. Bread too."
Calm, emotionless tone.
Even with surrounding din not fully settled, her words hit my ears clear.
So I recognized the owner instantly.
Greenwood. The one northern great noble even I, ignorant of Roshiar, remembered.
"What bread, Baroness Liv Greenwood?"
"Whatever's left from yesterday's bake."
Maybe 'cause I missed proper school days pre-isekai, or saw too many lives snuffed on battlefields—but I had a firm type I wanted to help.
Hard-studying or hard-fighting.
Students study, thugs... knights draw steel unyielding.
My old comrade Whitelett said it: Knights fighting for honor always deserve respect.
Speaking of, heard he got 1st-class medal and title—then no word.
Anyway, today's academy kids—noble sirs—were too soft.
Peace era or not, learning dances over magic and plotting bread thefts? Kingdom's future dim.
In that sense, Greenwood baron's heir was ideal.
Liv Lavre de Greenwood. 2nd-year magic department prodigy.
Topped entrance exams, rumor had it.
Retaking 1st-year Basic Magic Theory? No lack of study zeal.
"...And handbook says treat all cadets equal except royalty. Skip the 'Baroness' please."
"Got it, Baroness."
"..."
Plus, not raised noble, so calling her that made her cheeks flush—kinda cute.
Honestly, all that was fluff.
I see more students than any professor or mage here. Reason obvious.
She's gorgeous. Insanely so.
Twin black hair tails, obsidian eyes meeting yours felt rude.
Before visible beauty, her cape-hid figure: modest, non-flashy chest, but counting coins on palm showed slender arms, curved waist.
Students behind stared blankly, none urging "hurry up."
"Hmm... Seems right, but check?"
"..."
"Uncle?"
Her call snapped me back. 'Uncle' stung, but ignored.
"Ah, one sec. Bread here, test paper where..."
No matter how broke, felt bad giving her day-old outsides—so packed fresh pizza bread from hours ago.
As I gloved for Litvice—
'Hm?'
Familiar figure up front.
Last time's bread thief I lectured and released.
Adella glanced at counter, slyly reached for the day-old bread Liv asked for.
—Hey, lunch ending! Hurry!
—Huff, pant! This academy's huge! Here! Drink?
Worse, another student wave surged in.
"Test paper here! Come again, Baroness!"
"Huh? Uh..."
She'd slip away.
Shoved items over, vaulted the counter.
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