As the lecture ended and everyone eagerly anticipated the upcoming weekend to rest, I-han couldn’t afford to relax.  

There was simply too much work to do.

He already had assignments from Professor Boladi on *On the Principles of the Water Mana Grenade* and *The Limitations and Development Directions of Water Mana Grenade Magic*, not to mention the additional project from Professor Alfen. It would’ve been easier to put everything off for the weekend, but this time that wasn’t an option.

After all, if he wanted to join his friends for a trip to the skeleton principal’s villa, he would need every minute.

“Lord Wardanaz, shall we go fishing by the lake in honor of Agltakwa?”

“Sorry, Sharukal. I’ve got some reading to finish.”

The shark priest left, disappointed but understanding.

“Lord Wardanaz, would you be interested in a mushroom hunt in honor of Flamang? We found a cluster of honey bun mushrooms! We should go before someone else finds them…though I suppose if someone else does find them, it’s still Flamang’s will, isn’t it?”

“Apologies, Siana. I have reports to write.”

The fox priest left with a small sigh and her basket in hand.

“Lord Wardanaz—”

“Sorry, Tijilin. I’ve got professors to—uh, that is, I’ve got a problem to tackle.”

I-han hastily covered up some scribbled notes on his desk, which read *101 Ways to Bury Professors Alive*. No good would come from Tijilin seeing those.

“...Did you just say—?”

“You must’ve misheard. Anyway, I’m too busy to head out today.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest going out…”

The demon-blooded priest held out a tray of snacks instead: a plate of freshly baked corn bread and a warm tin cup filled with hot cocoa.

“Did the other priests ask you to go out? They wouldn’t have—”

“Actually, yes.”

“Well… I’m sure they had their reasons. If they did, then I suppose it’s understandable.”

With elegance and tact, the demon priest changed the subject. I-han could only feel impressed.

“Thanks, really. Wait…did you bake this cornbread using my recipe from this morning?”

“Oh, yes. You made a lot, so I just re-baked some.”

“And this cocoa…didn’t I give this out to everyone last time because they were all tired?”

“Yes, but I didn’t need anything sweet for myself, so I saved it.”

*Ga-inan would have a fit if he heard that.* I-han smirked. Who would say they *didn’t need* anything sweet?

“Please, help yourself. I still have plenty of provisions. Probably more than anyone here.”

I-han tried to gently scold Tijilin. It was good to be frugal, but that didn’t mean meals should be skimped on.

The demon priest bit his lip, as though unsure how to respond, and then noticed something nearby.

“Lord Wardanaz, is that tart box for eating?”

“Hmm? No, that’s to sell. I have other things to eat, so why would I use such expensive stuff to fill up?”

“Then that rolled cake…is it for later?”

“That one’s for Ga-inan if he finishes his assignments by the end of the week.”

“Then…does that mean the only thing we can eat right now is this bread?” Tijilin gestured at a piece of standard academy rations.

I-han blinked, caught off guard. 

“Uh, actually, I usually have it as a sandwich with cheese, meat, and lettuce…”

“Hmm… But I don’t see it here.”

“...Normally, yes. Today is just…busy.”

“...” Tijilin now looked at him with a faintly amused, reproachful expression. I-han let out a small sigh.

“Fine. Let’s make something. Would you call the others? Might as well set it up for everyone.” 

“Lord Wardanaz, you remind me of our archbishop.”

“Oh, is the archbishop wealthy?”

“No, actually…he’s quite humble.”

I-han felt a pang of disappointment. *Wait…then what’s similar between us?*

---

I-han and the priests gathered in the dormitory’s common area to make a quick meal together. 

“The sandwich is kind of cold, don’t you think?”

“It should be fine like this.”

“Hold on, though. Let’s see if we have…”

They ended up tossing rice, chicken, onions, garlic, and oil into a pot, cooking it all into a hearty pilaf.

Tijilin stole glances at the now-abandoned bread with a look of pity, but I-han pretended not to notice.

*Knock, knock.*

“!”

Someone knocked on the door, and I-han immediately grabbed his staff, ready for battle. 

Professor Boladi would have cried tears of pride.

“...They just knocked, though.”

“Sure. And every attack starts that way. Who’s there? State your name and stand five meters back!”

*—We’ve come to deliver a gift from our lord.*

“Ten meters back!”

Hearing the voice of a Death Knight, I-han’s voice grew sharp and commanding. The priests, too, sensed trouble, setting down their dishes and readying their staves.

“Priest Nikisor, that’s a spoon, not a staff.”

“Oh…sorry. It was just…so good.”

The Death Knight, obediently stepping back, spoke calmly.

—We understand your caution, but there are no traps today.

“Oh, I bet,” I-han muttered, smirking. The priests, too, chuckled.

Though he couldn’t show it, the Death Knight was visibly stung by the mistrust. 

—If you don’t believe me, please feel free to check for yourselves.

“Oh, I was already planning to.”

I-han sent his familiars, Sharkan and Gonadaltes, to scope out the area. He even created a water orb and flung it close, launching various magic attacks in case there were hidden traps. 

The Death Knight, while emotionless, began to look rather downtrodden as he brushed ice fragments off his bones.

—Are you satisfied with the inspection?

“We’re not completely finished, but we’ll assume you’re clear for now. So, why have you come?”

—Didn’t I mention it? We’re here to deliver a gift from my master.

The Death Knight lifted a large wooden crate in both hands.

*Oh.* A flash of realization hit I-han like lightning.

*That vile mastermind.*

Professor Garcia had warned him about the sneaky gifts that would come before exams. The skeletal principal had all kinds of tricks up his sleeve to torment students ahead of their finals.

One such scheme involved undead warriors hiding in “gift” boxes.

“Thank you.”

—So, may I deliver it?

“Yes, by all means.”

At I-han’s acceptance, the Death Knight slowly approached, and the moment he stopped in front of I-han, the student sprang into action.

With a swift move, I-han drew his sword, *Morning Star*, and cleaved the crate cleanly in half.

*Schlunk!*

—…?!?

“Hah! Did you really think I’d fall for that?”

But as the box split open, it wasn’t filled with any evil undead soldiers—it was just clothing.

“???”

—???

Seeing the elegant, split coat, I-han finally understood the skeletal principal’s gift.

This weekend, the principal had planned for I-han to accompany the Empire’s famous bard, Ifadur, for a public outing. Such a high-profile event would, of course, require something more refined than the usual rough, patched cloaks and coats worn at Enroguard.

The skeletal principal didn’t want his student looking like a street beggar.

“They want me to wear *this*? Tell him I’ll never accept it!”

—Understood.

The Death Knight, strangely impressed, withdrew.

*Not even this terrifying principal could make his apprentice bow down.*

---

*Clever little thing, isn’t he? Always quick to spot the luxury items…*

Saturday morning arrived.

Having transformed into human form, the skeletal principal grumbled in his carriage.

I-han stayed silent but thought to himself, *Ifadur, please hurry and join us.*

It was clear that until the bard arrived, the principal would keep muttering irritably.

“You know, I’m a noble by birth, so I’m not used to wearing anything that lacks dignity.”

*You didn’t seem to mind wearing the academy uniform,* the principal thought.

“Well, that was a special case.”

*Even during the break, you didn’t really dress up…*

“When with friends, it’s only proper to dress humbly.”

*I’m sure that’s not the case. You just wanted a reason to complain,* the principal mentally scoffed, still annoyed at the higher price he’d had to pay for I-han’s coat.

Finally, Ifadur appeared in the distance, walking over. The principal opened the door himself, speaking with formality.

“My apologies for the wait, sir. Where would you like to go?”

“If it’s no trouble, the village of Philone,” Ifadur replied, his voice slow but firm. “I’d like to meet the singers there. Anyone with a true talent for music.”

The turtle-like old bard’s voice was gentle yet persistent, and the skeletal principal reassured him with a motion of his hand.

The carriage doors closed, and they sped forward.

The inside of the carriage was vast, large enough for scores of academy freshmen to comfortably sit. The sight left

 Ifadur marveling.

“Mind if I take a look around?”

“Be my guest. Feel free to explore. Escort him,” the principal instructed.

As the Death Knight showed Ifadur around, I-han and the principal sat in silence, gazing out the carriage windows.

“So…any progress on the music magic project?”

I-han broke the silence to ease the atmosphere. In moments like these, it was his role as the younger to initiate conversation.

The principal only looked away, as if ignoring him.

“Principal? I asked about the music ma—”

“Look outside, lad! In this season, butterflies—how beautiful is the cycle of life!”

“...You’re avoiding the question, aren’t you?”

The principal sighed irritably.

“Yes, fine. I don’t want to talk about it. Primitive magic…can it even be called magic if it changes so much with every attempt? When something changes based on the user’s mood, is that still magic?”

“But that’s the case for divine magic too.”

Magic involving emotional components already existed. Divine magic, for instance, varied greatly based on the mood and confidence of the priest casting it.

Hearing this, the principal nodded, somewhat agreeing.

“Exactly, which is why divine magic isn’t true magic. I’m proud you see my point!”

“...That’s not what I meant.”

The principal’s peculiar interpretation left I-han speechless.

“I can predict what will happen. Some talented singers will manage to use magic-like abilities. But when we try to document it and teach it to students, it’ll be useless. Primitive magic is meaningful to those who can use it but inadequate as a scholarly pursuit. That’s why traditions keep dying…”

As the principal grumbled, I-han quietly organized his thoughts, looking out of the carriage.

“?”

In the distance, he spotted his friends frantically waving.

*Is this a farewell?*

At first, he thought they were just saying goodbye. Then, he remembered.

“...Ah.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, sir.”

They’d planned to visit the principal’s villa together this weekend.

*…Looks like it’ll have to be next week.*