NoveLight ™
The plane carrying Yeomyeong and the Saintess smoothly glided onto the runway. If they hadn’t been looking out the window, they might not have noticed the landing at all—such a perfect touch down.
“A good start,” Margan remarked briefly, directing his gaze to where the Saintess and Yeomyeong were also looking.
The view of the airport from the small airplane window unfolded before them.
Compared to other international airports, the Lord Howe Academy airport was small, yet it didn’t lack in beauty.
The renowned architect who designed this place had expressed his desire to make it a place that reflected the vibrancy of youth, and true to his words, the view beyond the window was bursting with youthful energy.
And not in a metaphorical sense, but quite literally.
“Uh… is it usually this crowded here?”
The Saintess asked, looking somewhat overwhelmed.
Outside, an estimated several hundred, possibly over a thousand, people were gathered around the airport and runway.
“…It’s not what I think it is, right?”
Margan didn’t answer, unable to hide his look of surprise.
“You said there wouldn’t be a welcome party!”
Finally, the Saintess raised her voice in frustration, and a bead of sweat trickled down Margan’s forehead.
“Well… the academy didn’t announce that you would be arriving today…”
“Then who are all those people? They’re all staring right at our plane!”
“Truthfully… I’m not entirely sure how the students and faculty found out and came to wait here.”
While Margan stammered, Yeomyeong interjected.
“It’s because of the journalists from Manchuria.”
“…Journalists?”
“Why do you think they were at the Manchurian airfield? They were likely planning to report on our departure or inform their colleagues.”
There was no need to explain what happened next.
Considering the nature of air travel, it wasn’t hard for them to estimate the arrival time based on the departure time and destination.
Of course, understanding the situation and accepting it were two entirely different things.
“Ugh…! If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve just attended the entrance ceremony…”
Embarrassed, the Saintess buried her face in her hands and stomped her feet.
She continued like this until the plane came to a full stop and was towed to the airport.
And just as the oblivious pilot announced over the intercom, “The staircase truck will be ready shortly,” the Saintess spoke in a deflated tone.
“Yeomyeong, what are you thinking about?”
“…Why are you asking about what I’m thinking?”
“You’re not nervous or afraid… I’m just curious what’s on your mind.”
“Hmm… Actually, I was thinking I’m glad you’re here with me.”
“What?! You… Wh-what are you saying all of a sudden…?”
Just as the Saintess looked up in surprise, Yeomyeong shrugged and added,
“You’ll be the one drawing all those people’s attention instead of me. If that’s not fortunate, then what is?”
“….”
The joke seemed to work in easing her tension, and the Saintess let out a scoffing laugh.
Then, half in amusement and half in irritation, she swung her fist at Yeomyeong.
…In any case, the plane finally came to a stop while the two of them bantered.
As the plane door opened, the Saintess stopped punching him.
The sounds of the airport, which had been muted until now, rushed in.
Footsteps of people crowding toward them, shouts, the clicking of camera shutters.
And amid all this, a hum of excitement filled the air.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake…”
The Saintess glanced at her luggage bag—more precisely, at the invisible cloak inside it.
Before going to Manchuria… she always wore that invisible cloak.
She feared the prejudice of being a half-Earthling and felt burdened by the expectations that came with the title of Saintess.
But after everything she had experienced in Manchuria, she had decided to change. No, she already had changed.
Just as she hadn’t run from the war correspondents, she felt ready to withstand the attention she’d receive at the academy as well.
The Saintess steadied her resolve. Though a sigh continued to escape her lips, and she found Yeomyeong’s calm expression mildly irritating…
“…Shall we go?”
As soon as she stood up, Yeomyeong also rose to his feet and grabbed his bag.
Just as they prepared to disembark, with Margan taking the lead, someone entered through the plane’s door.
It was a middle-aged man with a stern, wrinkled face, dressed impeccably in a suit. The man, who looked visibly upset, caused Margan to shout out in surprise.
“Director Medga?”
The moment Margan spoke, Yeomyeong also observed the man closely.
Director of Admissions? Why would someone of his rank, who oversees academy admissions, be here?
“Director, what brings you here…?”
Before Margan could finish his question, the Director strode toward Yeomyeong and the Saintess, bowing to them.
“To the Saintess and the transfer student. I apologize for the inconvenience. This matter is entirely our fault.”
“What? No, no, there’s no need to apologize,” the Saintess replied, glancing at Yeomyeong as if to ask his opinion, and Yeomyeong nodded in agreement.
However, the “mistake” the Director referred to was more serious than they realized.
Suddenly, angry shouts filled the air. The hostility in those voices was directed not at the Saintess but at Yeomyeong.
From comments about the unfairness of the transfer exam to snide remarks questioning why someone who rode a dragon needed to take a plane, the voices were full of disdain.
“What on earth…!”
Realizing the situation belatedly, the Saintess tried to storm out of the plane, but the Director extended his hand to stop her.
“Saintess, could you hear me out before you get angry?”
“Hear you out? What’s there to say? Everyone out there is insulting Yeomyeong…!”
Before she could continue, Yeomyeong placed a calming hand on her shoulder.
“…Let’s listen to what the Director has to say first.”
Since the person most affected was advising patience, the Saintess reluctantly held back her anger and turned her head away.
Remaining calm, Yeomyeong asked, “Director, what’s going on? Why am I being targeted like this?”
“It’s… because of the transfer exam.”
Transfer exam? What does that have to do with this?
While Yeomyeong frowned, the Director began his explanation.
The competition to enter Lord Howe Academy was nothing short of brutal.
Despite the entry requirement of already being superhuman or at least having the ability to sense mana, the number of applicants only grew each year.
With public interest in superhumans skyrocketing, the academy's doors were always in high demand.
And because of this, the Admissions Department was constantly bombarded with bribes.
Famous celebrities, politicians, and even nobles from beyond the Dimension Gate openly attempted to negotiate backdoor admissions.
Offering stocks and cash was the norm, while promises of elixirs and power were also frequent.
Of course, there hadn’t been a single instance in the past twelve years where such bribes were accepted.
This was due to the founder’s commitment to fair admissions and also thanks to Director Medga Dubois’s stringent stance over the past twelve years.
But had those twelve years been too long? Or had the lure of bribery grown too tempting?
Recently, there were increasing efforts within the academy to secure Medga’s position for themselves.
Nikolai Cerny, a member of the academy board, was a prime example.
For the past few years, he had been openly pushing to place one of his people in the Director of Admissions role.
Had it not been for Medga’s unwavering integrity, he might have already taken over, and the general opinion among teachers was that it was only a matter of time…
“…Um, Director?”
“Yes, Yeomyeong? Is there something you don’t understand?”
“No, it’s just… a bit long. Could you maybe get to the main point?”
“….”
The moment Yeomyeong finished, the Saintess stifled a laugh.
Medga faltered briefly, then nodded, hearing the jeers outside the plane.
“…Considering you’re the one being insulted right now, it seems I’ve lacked consideration. My apologies.”
After clearing his throat, he continued.
“To summarize, this is all a scheme to use your transfer as a pretext to humiliate you and to use that as leverage to remove me from my position as Director.”
“…Is my transfer such a contentious issue?”
“Ordinarily, our academy doesn’t have a transfer system. You are likely the first and… perhaps the last.”
“….”
Yeomyeong already knew his transfer was unprecedented.
After all, Margan had arrived to admit him with nothing more than a piece of paper labeled “Transfer Exam Proctor.”
But he hadn’t anticipated it would cause this much trouble.
Considering all he had accomplished and the skills he had demonstrated…
…I hadn’t expected to get entangled in academy politics. This is definitely outside my plans.
Yeomyeong pressed his fingers to his temple briefly as the sounds of the jeers directed at him continued outside.
“Yeomyeong, I apologize for the hardship caused by my ambition to see you transferred. I hope this foolishness among adults does not leave you too hurt.”
“No, well…”
“I promise that you will not be expelled. Your transfer was within my rightful authority as the Director, and it was approved by the Headmaster.”
Medga’s respectful tone conveyed both his apology and reassurance. At this, the Saintess lifted her head.
“Then isn’t this all resolved if we just explain why Yeomyeong was transferred? They’re not fools; surely they’d understand that he defeated a dragon…”
Before she could finish, Medga sighed.
“Saintess. When some people encounter something unbelievable… they choose to believe it’s a lie.”
“….”
“And others… turn a blind eye to the truth out of jealousy.”
The people outside insulting Yeomyeong were likely those types.
The Saintess understood and pursed her lips in silence.
While everyone on the plane fell quiet, Yeomyeong suddenly began rummaging through his bag.
“Yeomyeong?”
“What?”
“What are you doing?”
“We can’t just keep waiting around like this.”
With that, Yeomyeong pulled out a standard iron sword from his bag.
Since sharp weapons weren’t permitted at the academy, he’d been given a sword with a blunted edge.
As Medga and Margan looked on in confusion at the sword, only the Saintess seemed to realize what he intended and gaped.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing here at the academy!”
“The simplest solution, right?”
The simplest solution? Realizing Yeomyeong’s intention, Medga intervened.
“…What are you planning, Yeomyeong?”
“If they’re making a fuss about my transfer, shouldn’t I just prove my skills?”
“That’s true, and we did intend to set up an opportunity for you to demonstrate your skills in front of staff and the media within a few days…”
“…But aren’t the staff and media already gathered outside?”
Before Medga could say anything more, Yeomyeong spun on his heel and made his way toward the plane’s rear door.
“W-wait! Yeomyeong! Please hold on!”
Margan, watching this unfold, tried to stop him, but the Saintess raised her hand to prevent him.
“Let him go.”
“B-but Saintess. If Yeomyeong loses out there…!”
“If he injures his opponent, maybe, but Yeomyeong isn’t going to lose.”
“….”
“Oh, and even if he does hurt someone, I can heal them, so he can break a limb or two; it’s no big deal!”
With those words, shouted loud enough for him to hear, Yeomyeong exited through the rear door.
With no staircase truck attached, he had to jump down from quite a height, landing with a loud thud.
The moment he landed, every eye outside turned toward him.
The reporters, the academy’s external affiliates, faculty, students, everyone.
With hundreds of pairs of eyes on him, Yeomyeong calmly raised his sword.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Cheonyeomyeong, the new transfer student at the academy.”
Though he spoke quietly, the superhumans gathered at the airport focused their mana to catch every word.
“For those who doubt my abilities, or who’ve called me a fraud… I’ll give you a chance to prove it.”
As he spoke, mana began to gather around his sword—a statement more powerful than any words.
“Anyone who wants to fight me…”
A hush fell over the airport as Yeomyeong’s declaration echoed through the crowd.
“Step forward.”