Became the Unjust Contract Slave of the Archamage's Book - Chapter 10

As soon as the magical duel ended, Professor Freud headed straight to his office.

He immediately summoned a student to join him there.

“You called for me, Professor?”

Gospelt Louis appeared, his expression relaxed.

Professor Freud didn’t like the sight of his casual demeanor.

“You seem to be in a good mood?”

“Well, yes… Is something wrong?”

Gospelt Louis was somewhat oblivious to the tension.

Pressing his temples to suppress his frustration, Professor Freud addressed Gospelt.

“There might be a problem with our plan.”

“Don’t give me that stupid look. It means you have a competitor now.”

The head of the Louis family was one of Professor Freud’s patrons, a significant supporter with substantial gold.

Count Louis’s goal was singular: to have his son graduate from Elfenbine as quickly as possible and be appointed a magician.

The deadline set by the Count was this year. It was the pressing timeline that led Professor Freud to promote Gospelt to chief disciple, despite the noise that arose from this decision.

However, the one directly involved seemed to be obliviously carefree.

“A competitor? But wasn’t it already decided that I’d be chosen for the Scala selection?”

Being named chief disciple didn’t guarantee selection for the Scala exams, nor did it ensure passing the exams.

While Professor Freud could manage some of the issues behind the scenes, he couldn’t completely disregard the opinions of others.

Especially not someone as influential as Dean Angelo Yulio.

“I’ve told you repeatedly, don’t let your guard down. Have you been training as instructed?”

“Yes, yes, of course. You can count on me.”

Gospelt answered nonchalantly, oblivious to Professor Freud’s anxiety.

Professor Freud felt a vein throbbing in his temple. He exercised superhuman patience once more.

“Then show me.”

“Why the surprise? If you’ve been training properly, you should have mastered some 2nd tier magic. Try casting a spell.”

“In such a small space? What if I make a mess?”

“I’ll take care of that. Just do it.”

Gospelt hesitated but eventually chanted a 2nd tier spell. To Professor Freud, it was a pathetic display of skill. His patience finally reached its limit.

“Do you have no awareness of your lack of skill? No sense of urgency? Even if you are selected, if you fail to pass the Scala, won’t you fear your father’s wrath?”

“Oh, come on, Professor. With you here, what do I have to worry about?”

“Idiot! Do you even understand what you’re saying?”

Professor Freud’s voice rose sharply. Gospelt shrank back, startled.

Realistically, Gospelt Louis’s skills were a step or two below those of the other chief disciples.

Count Louis hoped his son would return with a golden brooch by the end of the year. Failing that, he had declared he would cut off all funding.

This was the worst-case scenario for Professor Freud and would be disastrous for Gospelt as well.

Without the funding, Freud would lose interest in Gospelt.

A thorough materialist, Professor Freud was fully aware of this simple outcome, but Gospelt didn’t seem to grasp it.

Instead, he asked, puzzled.

“Is it because of that competitor? Who is it? I know. Is it Dennis? Is Dennis offering some bribe?”

“It’s not Dennis.”

“Then who?”

“Binaeril Dalheim.”

Gospelt’s eyes rolled in thought for a few seconds.

“Seriously, that failure?”

“Yes. ‘That’ failure.”

“He just moved up to senior status recently, right? You must be joking.”

“That failure had a magical duel with Gillian Bemes today.”

Gospelt needed a moment to recall the duel system.

“So what?”

‘Is this guy truly an idiot?’

Swallowing his rising disappointment, Professor Freud elaborated.

“He won. Decisively.”

According to the original plan, Binaeril wasn’t a significant concern.

The variable was that Binaeril was growing at an alarming rate, and the second issue was that someone who shouldn’t have noticed him, did.

That person was none other than Dean Angelo Yulio, Professor Freud’s direct superior.

If Binaeril continued to grow at his current pace, it could become difficult to ensure Gospelt’s selection for the Scala exam.

Dean Yulio would undoubtedly raise objections. To make matters worse, Freud’s relationship with the Dean wasn’t exactly amicable.

Unless Binaeril hit a plateau in his development… but that was not a guarantee Freud could rely on.

Professor Freud recalled the recent duel.

Despite it being his first real fight, Binaeril had shown a relaxed demeanor.

While Gillian was distracted casting his self-immolation spell, Binaeril managed to unleash a spell, seemingly without an incantation.

Dean Yulio had stopped the fight citing Gillian’s foul, but Freud believed the outcome wouldn’t have changed even without intervention.

Regardless of his personal feelings towards Binaeril, Freud had to acknowledge the boy’s potential. He was a rising star.

This was a stark contrast to the lazy Gospelt before him.

“Enough. You don’t need to understand all this. What matters now is proving that you are officially better than Binaeril Dalheim.”

“How… how do I do that?”

“Take first place in next week’s hunting exercise.”

Next week, the senior students were scheduled to participate in a hunting exercise, targeting small monsters.

“Winning by a narrow margin isn’t enough. You need to be overwhelmingly first. Can you do that?”

“Come on, I won’t lose to a failure like him. Don’t you trust me?”

Freud’s trust in Gospelt was practically nonexistent. He resolved to prepare a backup plan.

“If you understand, you may leave.”

***

Gillian Bemes was staggering down the hallway, leaning against the wall.

After the duel ended, Binaeril was taken away by Dean Yulio, and the remaining two professors left deep in thought.

No one paid any attention to the duel’s loser.

“I didn’t lose… I didn’t lose…”

Despite his self-consolation, Gillian knew the truth.

If Dean Yulio hadn’t intervened, he wouldn’t be standing.

“How?”

Binaeril Dalheim was just a recent transfer, a mere novice.

In contrast, he was a senior student, having trained for more than a year as a magician.

Binaeril, on the other hand, was said to be the longest-standing junior, a perpetual failure in Elfenbine’s history.

How could he lose to such a novice?

Gillian, steeped in humiliation, didn’t notice someone approaching him.

“Gillian Bemes.”

“…?”

A clear, feminine voice rang out above his bowed head.

He looked up, but the backlighting from the window obscured her face.

“Who are you?”

“I hereby charge you with assaulting and insulting a member of the royal family.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When the princess returns to the palace, forces will be dispatched to your baron’s estate. Your crime is by no means light.”

“Damn it, what are you saying?”

Gillian flailed his arms aimlessly, but the girl easily subdued him.

For a woman, she had a surprisingly strong grip.

“Let me… go!”

Exhausted, Gillian couldn’t muster the strength to break free from her hold.

“Not only did you fail to recognize the princess of the empire, but you also dared to lay hands on her. Be grateful for Princess Friederike’s mercy.”

“Princess Friederike?”

That was a name from the Albrecht imperial family. Why was that name being mentioned now?

Gillian suddenly remembered someone.

The blonde girl he had shoved lightly on the day he fought Binaeril and was knocked out.

Blonde hair… golden hair was one of the symbols of the Albrecht royal family.

A chill ran down Gillian’s spine. Had he really assaulted a royal?

“S-sorry! Please, spare me!”

“It’s too late.”

The girl replied coldly. She easily subdued the struggling Gillian.

***

Binaeril, meanwhile, sneaked a glance upwards, then quickly looked down again as his eyes met Dean Angelo Yulio’s unyielding stare.

‘Why is he doing this? It’s scary.’

Binaeril reviewed the duel in his mind. Had he over-defended? Was that why the Dean was angry?

‘But it was a fair duel.’

Unlike the last time, Gillian wasn’t hurt or unconscious. Dean Yulio had intervened at the right moment.

Binaeril wanted to defend himself, to say he had done nothing wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

Dean Yulio’s gaze was intense enough to kill a monster.

‘Can you tell me why the Dean is angry?’

– I don’t want to.

‘You little…’

“Binaeril Dalheim.”

Fortunately, Dean Yulio broke the long silence.

“Who taught you magic?”

“Professor Freud is my instructor.”

His response was overly formal due to his nerves, but Dean Yulio didn’t comment on it.

“I can tell that Professor Freud hasn’t been particularly attentive in guiding you. His reaction today made that clear.”

Despite his large frame, his tone was calm.

“I’ll ask you again. Who taught you magic?”

However, the look in his eyes was anything but kind. The pressure was incomparable to Gillian’s verbal threats.

It felt like he was saying, don’t even think about lying.

As the Dean suggested, Professor Freud had taught Binaeril very little. It was Veritas who first taught him magic.

All of Binaeril’s magic came from this mysterious book. But would Dean Yulio believe the truth?

‘I found a book in the library, and it taught me magic. It’s not an ordinary book, but a being in the form of a book…’

No matter how he tried to phrase it, it sounded absurd. Even the most reasonable person in Elfenbine would think he was mad.

He hadn’t learned from a professor, and he couldn’t explain Veritas convincingly. Only one answer remained.

“I taught myself.”

-Ha, what a shameless brat.

Binaeril calmly ignored the internal criticism. He had to meet Dean Yulio’s gaze confidently, though inwardly he was anxious.

Could a master magician detect lies? Was there such magic?

“…Hmm.”

Luckily, it seemed his act worked. Dean Yulio pulled out a monocle from his eye and cleaned it.

“Huh, self-taught, you say…”

Professor Yulio thought back to the duel’s last moments.

The sound and flames had obscured much of the scene.

The professors on either side likely hadn’t fully grasped the situation either. It had been too chaotic.

They probably thought Binaeril had simply outmaneuvered his opponent.

But Dean Yulio had seen clearly.

Binaeril had launched his final counterattack without any preparation.

It was exactly as Princess Friederike had described.

‘A mage who doesn’t chant spells.’

The Dean wondered if Binaeril could control this incredible ability at will.

Or was it an unconscious release of magic under pressure?

With his now-clean monocle, the Dean gazed at the boy.

He decided to test him.

“Would you be interested in participating in a special class?”