It was nothing new, but Ihan hated magicians.

Why, you ask?

Isn’t it obvious? As a child, he was used as an “experiment subject” by a magician and endured it for no less than ten years.

Ten whole years. That’s 3,650 days, being experimented on every single day.

The pain he suffered then is something he’ll never forget, no matter how much time passes.

Every day, children were discarded after failed experiments. The experiments became more intense, resulting in scars, wounds, and unimaginable pain.

The endless extraction of blood, the tearing and burning of flesh—it was agony that no one could truly understand unless they’d experienced it.

That’s why it’s unforgettable.

…If he were to tell his story to a priest of the Light, they’d probably say:

“It was a trial sent by God. Thanks to that trial, you are who you are now. You should let go of those memories.”

To which Ihan would reply:

“─What a load of crap.”

If they went through exactly what he endured for ten years and still said that, he might have some respect for them. But who would willingly undergo ten years of torture?

So, no matter how meaningless it might seem to some, he would forever carry a grudge against magicians.

Of course, he knew he shouldn’t generalize all magicians. Not every one of them conducted human experiments. But still, he couldn’t help but wonder:

‘Why do all the magicians I’ve encountered happen to be lunatics?’

For three years as a knight, every mysterious case he investigated somehow involved a magician. He witnessed firsthand how others suffered, just as he had as a child, and sometimes even worse. It was then that he became certain:

‘Good magicians? Sure, they might exist.’

It’s just that most of the “good” ones are only good after they stop breathing.

That goes for Irene Windler, too. While he could admit she seemed like a decent person, the fact that she was a magician was enough for him to hold a grudge against her.

Perhaps, this was an obsessive hatred Ihan harbored. A compulsion that told him magicians were meant to be hated.

And right now, Ihan had just confirmed that his obsession wasn’t misplaced.

Look at this, for instance:

“You’ve mocked my words, you filthy swordsman. How dare you disregard my command! You lowly creature…!”

Only venomous words poured from Odwal’s mouth.

So Ihan replied:

“Did you come here to die, old magician?”

“!!!”

Ihan was more than willing to stoop to his level.

 

The atmosphere in the swordsmanship department’s training grounds was thick with silence.

It wasn’t just any silence; it was the calm before the storm. The kind of stillness that made it seem as if an explosion could go off at any moment.

Suddenly—

“Hm.”

Ihan casually pulled a hand axe from his coat.

“Shall we have a little more ‘conversation’?”

“…Why do you draw a weapon to have a conversation?”

“Why should I put up with a magician disrupting my precious class time? Sure, what a magician says is always nonsense, but I’ll listen. If it sounds like nonsense again, I’ll just throw this at you.”

“…You filthy swordsman.”

“What do you think will happen if this filthy swordsman hits you with an axe?”

“…!”

Ignoring Odwal’s fury, Ihan playfully waggled the hand axe.

It was as if he were saying he was ready to take on any challenge.

But this wasn’t a mere joke.

In reality, Ihan was in a terrible mood. He had warned Odwal very respectfully the day before, yet here he was, intruding into Ihan’s “territory.”

And the fact that he’d brought reinforcements…

‘What else could it mean, if not that he’s here to fight?’

A group of magicians had arrived, about 17 of them, clearly there to show their strength.

Ihan’s deep-seated hatred of magicians made him more than disgusted at the sight. He felt it was his duty to remind Odwal of life’s harsh realities, emanating an intense aura of seriousness.

“…You ignorant swordsman.”

Odwal, however, managed to suppress his anger. Although his gaze was still fierce, neither he nor his disciples drew their staffs. As far as knights go, it’s akin to not drawing their swords. He knew.

Fighting a knight at this range was suicide.

‘A magician keeping their cool? Well, he is a professor at the academy for a reason.’

Still, one could never be too careful. Magicians were like ticking time bombs, prone to sudden outbursts.

And just as expected—

“You don’t understand.”

“…What?”

“I said you don’t understand! A magician’s craft is a delicate thing…!!”

The calm demeanor Odwal had shown moments ago vanished as he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Ihan.

“You filthy swordsman! What did you do to that prodigy to make her neglect her magic training?! You vile creature!”

“Move your finger before I cut it off.”

“This is all because of you! Because of the nonsense you spout! She’s become so unruly!”

“I warned you.”

Their conversation didn’t align. They each were simply saying what they wanted to say.

But one thing was clear: neither intended to back down, and neither cared to have a real conversation.

The old magician, who despised not only knights but all non-magicians, and the knight, who harbored deep-seated hatred for magicians—there was no way they could ever have a proper conversation. Conflict was inevitable.

In this charged atmosphere:

“Instructor, please, hold back!”

“Don’t fight!”

The swordsmanship cadets rushed in to hold Ihan back. Even though they had only known him for a short time, they understood his character well enough to know that if Ihan said he’d do something, he would actually do it.

Likewise, the magicians were just as frantic.

“Professor! We agreed to settle this peacefully!”

“Please, not here.”

“For our sake, calm down!”

It seemed the 17 magicians hadn’t come to stage a show of force but rather to prevent Odwal from causing trouble. They knew their professor’s temperament well enough to follow him around, attempting to restrain him. Ironically, with students on both sides holding back the two men, they had no choice but to calm down.

Then:

“Perhaps it’s best for both of you to take a moment to compose yourselves.”

A man stepped forward, volunteering to mediate.

“Lord Roen…”

Roen Lionel, a distinguished figure with a noble aura and mystique, addressed them. Even Odwal, who had been acting fiercely, paused at his appearance.

It seemed he hadn’t expected Roen to step in personally.

Once the tension had settled, Roen continued:

“You’re both too excited. You’re so focused on saying what you want that there’s no effort to de-escalate the situation.”

Roen’s dark, deep gaze then fell upon Irene.

She flinched!

She was unnerved by his cold stare, though she couldn’t quite discern why.

[Irene, did you do something wrong to that handsome guy?]

‘Uh, no? …At least, I don’t think so?’

Irene felt a chill under Roen’s intense gaze but had no time to explore the cause of her discomfort before Roen continued.

“Professor Odwal Bernard. I’d like you to explain calmly why you brought your faction to another department and what exactly you intend to say to Lady Irene Windler.”

Though Roen’s tone was calm and polite, it carried an undeniable charisma. The presence of a true leader.

The Lionels.

He had the regal bearing of a Northern royal.

“Hmm…”

In the face of such authority, even Odwal hesitated. Although he scorned all non-magicians, even he couldn’t treat someone of such stature so flippantly.

Odwal composed himself, straightening his robe.

“—Old man, what a disappointment. I thought you’d be a man and take me on. Are you just going to keep running your mouth?”

“……You insolent…!!”

But Ihan, somehow already reloaded, immediately provoked him.

Odwal began to rage again, and the magic cadets could only glare at Ihan as they struggled to restrain their professor.

“…Instructor.”

“What? Isn’t it better to settle this with a proper fight? I’m ready.”

“……”

 

After some time, a representative from the Magic Department explained why Odwal was angry. It was a rather tangled story, but—

“So, in the end, it’s because the instructor restricted Irene from using ‘Telekinesis’? Is that it?”

Arno summarized, and while the Magic Department cadet seemed a bit dissatisfied with the oversimplification, he nodded reluctantly.

“Yes, that’s essentially it.”

For the sake of Irene’s health—or rather, her survival—Ihan had restricted her use of telekinesis. He didn’t ban it completely, but he told her to limit its use in daily life.

Ihan was trying to help Irene walk a bit more and become healthier.

…but that decision had deeply offended Odwal, a magician supremacist.

“Professor Odwal frequently says, ‘Telekinesis is the foundation and essence of magic. It is a magician’s [primordial power],’… Essentially, restricting telekinesis is akin to stifling a magician’s growth. To put it in terms of knights, it’s like saying they shouldn’t train their strength.”

“Is that what the old man teaches?”

“…This is just my personal opinion.”

“Of course.”

“Haha…”

That sounded exactly like something the old man would say.

Though there was some truth to it, Ihan couldn’t deny that Odwal had made a valid point.

‘Telekinesis is a magician’s strength, akin to physical stamina for knights.’

Just as consistent exercise builds strength, consistent training in telekinesis likely contributes to a magician’s power. Ihan had restricted this, which understandably irked the old magician. In a way, Irene was going against the magician’s teachings, and Ihan was the one who’d imposed that on her.

For someone who had once thrown a fit over a cadet coughing during the entrance ceremony, it was a wonder Odwal hadn’t caused trouble sooner.

“…Tch, he should have just said that from the start.”

It was a reasonable argument, and if he’d stated it clearly earlier, Ihan might not have been so hostile.

Still, Ihan felt no remorse.

‘Why should I feel bad for a magician?’

Ihan scoffed.

“I’m sorry, Instructor. This all happened because of me…”

“Chick number 2, this isn’t your fault.”

“But…”

“Let me ask you this. Have you ever neglected your magic training because you were attending my classes?”

“No! Absolutely not!”

She could swear that on her life.

[Right, I nag her every day. There’s never been a time Irene hasn’t trained.]

Thanks to the ghost girl’s constant nagging, Irene never neglected her magic training. Limiting telekinesis in daily life was also part of that.

“I only use it when I’m not training. Like when I don’t feel like getting out of bed to fetch a glass of water or when I’m doing my hair.”

“…That’s a bit enviable.”

“Hehe.”

She had a peculiar mix of diligence and laziness, diligently working to balance both.

Listening to her explanation, Ihan remarked:

“See? There’s no real issue here, old man. I don’t understand why you’re making such a fuss.”

Ihan gestured to the old magician, as if asking if he was satisfied. Odwal trembled with rage and retorted,

“You fool! That’s not the issue! Magic must be pure! Her talent must not be sullied!”

“…I don’t see why being healthier is a stain.”

“Health is irrelevant for magicians! With telekinesis—no, with ‘mana,’ we can live perfectly well. Instead of wasting time building physical stamina, it’s far more efficient to train mana…”

“You’re insane.”

What kind of logic was this?

It was like saying you don’t need to eat real food because nutritional supplements are enough.

Madman’s logic.

“Old man, once again, your logic…”

“You, stop calling me an old man! I’m only twenty-eight!!!”

“………What?”

…Did he mishear?

Ihan blinked in confusion and looked at the cadets. He gave them a questioning look, wondering if they had heard the same bizarre claim.

They responded:

“…Twenty-eight? Kunta thinks he’s still not used to the common language. I think I heard something strange. That old guy looks older than our high priestess.”

“No, Kunta. You heard right.”

“What kind of sorcery…”

The cadets whispered, confirming he hadn’t misheard, and Ihan turned to stare at the old magician—no, the prematurely aged young magician—in disbelief.

‘…He’s two years younger than me?’

Maybe…

“You didn’t sell your soul to a demon, did you?”

“You little…!”

In the end, Odwal lunged at Ihan.

Creak!

And immediately crumpled.

Meanwhile, as Irene watched this… young-looking but unnervingly aged magician, she thought to herself:

[Irene, we need to follow the instructor’s diet plan and exercise a lot, alright?]

‘…Yeah, I was already planning on it.’

Sometimes, nothing motivates a person more than a cautionary example.