The First Conference Room at Lord Howe Academy.

In front of a massive round table crafted from luxurious wood, a diverse assembly of individuals gathered, reviewing documents spread before them. Representatives from major academic faculties, the administration, admissions, and public relations departments were all present—figures deemed to hold true sway within the academy. The quiet turning of papers filled the room as the silence lingered.

Then, the doors opened, and a middle-aged woman with her hair pulled back entered the room.

Himena Ribeiro.

Although her official title was the President of Lord Howe Academy, she preferred to be addressed as “Principal” in a more informal manner.

“You’ve arrived, Prin… I mean, Principal.”

The staff rose in unison, bowing respectfully. Smiling faintly, she took her seat at the head of the table, and the others followed suit, their eyes now fixed on her.

“Everyone, my apologies for calling you in at this late hour. As some of you may have already noticed from the documents before you, this emergency meeting was called at the request of Director Nikolai,” she said, glancing towards Nikolai Cerny, seated to her left.

“The agenda… concerns the disciplinary action regarding the transfer student and the Admissions Director.”

Some of the faculty, quick to keep up with rumors, showed no reaction, seemingly prepared for this topic. However, others, like Professor Gadan from the Magic Department, cast surprised glances toward the Admissions Director, unable to believe such a strict person could be in trouble.

As thoughts flitted through the minds of those gathered, Nikolai raised his hand, and with a slight nod, the Principal granted him the floor.

“Ahem, ahem, as some of you may already know, today, a disgraceful event occurred within the academy,” Nikolai began, his voice brimming with authority as he swept his gaze across the table’s occupants.

“Due to the actions and deviation of a single individual, the academy has suffered severe mental and material damages.”

His gaze fixated on Medga, the Admissions Director, as he continued in a haughty tone.

“First of all, Runway 2 at the airport has been damaged. The Facilities Department estimates that repairs will take at least three days.”

Damage to the runway? Several teachers exchanged surprised looks with the facilities manager, who responded with a shrug, confirming Nikolai’s claim. With the silent affirmation, Nikolai proceeded.

“And that’s not all. The transfer student openly threatened the staff, not only with words but with weaponry and mana, as multiple witnesses have reported.”

“…Hah.”

A sigh escaped from one of the faculty members, while Nikolai intensified his performance, adding more emotion to his words.

“Twenty-seven staff members, including our board official Pedro, have reported experiencing psychological distress, with several requesting leave due to symptoms of post-traumatic stress.”

“….”

“Nineteen people sustained various injuries, including students present at the runway. Fortunately, none were critically hurt, but the medical team has officially requested restraint.”

As the faculty’s focus centered on Nikolai’s heightened gestures and expressions, he struck the table with his fist, punctuating his next words.

“And among the injured was none other than the Saintess herself! Although she managed to heal herself, she sustained a fractured arm. The Saintess, of all people! On her very first day, no less!”

Medga bit his lip, glaring at Nikolai, who hid a smirk as he concluded his speech.

“Everyone! I hereby call for the immediate discipline of the transfer student and the dismissal of Admissions Director Medga from his position.”

Even those with minimal interest in academy politics couldn’t help but furrow their brows at Nikolai’s machinations, though no one voiced outright objection. If Nikolai’s claims were indeed true, disciplining the Admissions Director seemed warranted.

After all, the transfer decision had been solely Medga’s.

“Do you have any rebuttal, Director Medga?” the Principal asked, resting her chin on her hand. Medga let out a sigh before responding.

“It’s hard to place all the blame on the transfer student alone. Certain individuals deliberately provoked him. And in particular…”

Before he could continue, Nikolai interjected.

“Provocation, you say! They were merely expressing their rightful opinions! Is it not shameful to dismiss the objections of those who protested against the Admissions Director’s overreach?”

“…Ha.”

Medga swallowed a sigh, suppressing his frustration. Despite being an outsider’s pawn, Nikolai’s antics seemed almost too low-level to be effective.

The situation was exasperating, and while some of the other faculty members seemed similarly displeased, the issues surrounding the runway damage, the alleged intimidation of the staff, and the Saintess’s injury were not matters they could easily overlook.

“If there are no objections, we will proceed to a vote,” Nikolai announced, and as if on cue, the doors at the back of the conference room opened, admitting assistants carrying ballot boxes and slips of paper.

It was clear this had been planned. The vote’s speed and urgency were all but overtly displayed.

Ignoring the discomfort on the faces of the faculty, Nikolai scanned the room.

“Last chance to object to the vote?”

He knew well that there was no one present who could halt the vote.

“Then, let us commence—”

Just as Nikolai triumphantly moved to call for the vote, the Principal raised her hand.

“…President?”

“Principal.”

“Yes, Principal. Might I ask why you raised your hand?”

“You asked if there were any objections to the vote, didn’t you?”

Nikolai’s expression hardened at her unamused gaze.

“Objections? Surely you understand the entirety of the situation. This transfer was a direct violation by the Admissions Director…”

“It wasn’t the Admissions Director’s decision. I authorized the transfer.”

“…Excuse me?”

Nikolai’s face went blank with shock as the Principal tapped her fingers on the table.

“A mercenary of that caliber—yes, I approved his transfer myself.”

The crisp, deliberate tapping of her fingers echoed coldly through the conference room.

“So, if there’s blame to be taken for this, it would fall on me, wouldn’t you say, Director Nikolai?”

The Principal’s words came slow and steady.

“Dismissal, was it? A rather heavy-handed approach for the consequences of a student’s actions, don’t you think?”

“Pr-Prin… I mean, Principal, I….”

“I understand, I understand. You put a lot of effort into this matter.”

“….”

“But there are limits. How do you think students would perceive us if the faculty allowed themselves to be swayed by something so blatantly obvious?”

The atmosphere shifted, and Nikolai, unable to find the words, stammered as sweat began to bead on his forehead.

“I-I believe this is a matter concerning the academy’s prestige. And… if we overlook the Saintess’s involvement…”

“…Because of the Saintess.”

The Principal narrowed her eyes, turning her gaze away from Nikolai and toward the back of the room.

“Would she see it that way?”

At her words, the faculty followed her gaze to the far end of the conference room, where an unfamiliar figure sat among the aides and scribes.

The woman, clad in a blue coat and wearing a plain blue mask, had her legs crossed as she observed the round table.

Only a few sharp-eyed individuals recognized the coat as the official attire of the Blue Rat. However, Nikolai immediately knew who she was and gulped, visibly shaken.

“Wh-Why… why is she at the academy…?”

He stammered, stepping back in disbelief, while the other staff members glanced at each other, puzzled. The Principal tilted her head, a faint smile forming on her lips.

“It’s not so unusual for a mother to come and see her daughter’s admission, is it?”

 

The First-Year Boys’ Dormitory at Lord Howe Academy was a scene of commotion. Although it was never truly quiet, today was particularly lively.

After all, today was the day the infamous transfer student was set to arrive. Despite the dorm supervisors checking their watches and grinding their teeth, the students continued gathering in small groups by the windows, eagerly watching the path leading to the dormitory.

—Is he really coming today? —Apparently, he was released from the Discipline Department just now. —What room do you think he’ll get?

After a while, two figures appeared, illuminated by the pathway lights. One was the familiar head dorm supervisor, leading the way. Following him…

—So, that’s the mercenary? Doesn’t look much different with a uniform on.

Some of the students, seeing the transfer student for the first time, couldn’t hide their disappointment. In his neatly pressed uniform, he didn’t look particularly special.

—That’s just because you didn’t see him fight.

Of course, those who had watched him at the airport reacted differently. They had witnessed him threaten the instigators and unleash blade-like energy in battle.

Jealousy, admiration, and simple curiosity filled the eyes of the gathered boys as the transfer student reached the dorm entrance.

—Which room will he get? A free one, or will they stick to tradition? —They’ll follow tradition, obviously. —But he didn’t take the entrance exam. He’ll probably get whatever’s left.

The dorm’s tradition dictated that rooms were assigned based on admission rankings—a long-standing custom. While the difference was minor, such as a sunnier room or one closer to the stairs, for boys their age, even the smallest distinction was worth competing for.

—Hey, if they follow tradition, does that mean Yeonseong has to give up his room?

The question sparked excitement among the students gathered on the central staircase.

Who would be stronger? Yeonseong, the first-year champion and pride of America, or the transfer student rumored to have taken down a dragon?

—Come on, Yeonseong’s obviously stronger. Even the third-years don’t mess with him. —But the transfer student supposedly fought a dragon! No way Yeonseong can compete with that! —He only did it with the Saintess’s blessing, though. Without it, who knows?

By the time the transfer student entered the lobby, the entire dorm was abuzz with the topic.

However, as soon as he stepped inside, the chatter abruptly ceased, as though by mutual agreement.

“Hmm…”

His golden eyes, cold and sharp, swept over the students gathered in the lobby and around the central staircase.

After a brief pause, he turned to the head dorm supervisor and asked, “…Is there some kind of welcoming ceremony?”

“Well… uh…” The supervisor hesitated, not knowing what to say. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wonder for long. Someone among the students couldn’t hold back and blurted out the truth.

“It’s not a ceremony. We’re all here to check you out.”

“…Check me out?”

A hulking boy stepped forward, his voice rough as though he’d just gone through puberty.

“Cheonyeom, you’re all over the news lately. Feels like we’re watching a celebrity.”

“….”

“And maybe… there’s also a chance you’ll face off against our dorm champion.”

Dorm champion? What was that supposed to mean? Yeomyeong raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, is that so? I wasn’t aware of any such tradition.”

The boy, realizing he hadn’t explained, hastily filled him in on the dorm tradition. Though his explanation was a bit scattered, Yeomyeong understood the gist.

Rooms assigned by admission rank.

As soon as the boy finished explaining, Yeomyeong gave his verdict.

“A foolish tradition.”

Reactions varied. Some snickered in agreement, while others frowned in displeasure. Regardless, Yeomyeong ignored them and turned to the supervisor.

“Supervisor, where’s my room?”

“Uh… 314. I’ll show you the way.”

Relieved that he wouldn’t have to mediate a dispute over rooms, the supervisor began to lead Yeomyeong. But just then, the boy who had explained the tradition leaped forward.

Thud!

Landing in the center of the lobby, right in front of Yeomyeong and the supervisor, the boy fixed him with a fiery gaze.

“Cheonyeom. I’m Wesley, ranked fourth in admissions. I have the second-best room in this dorm.”

There was no need to say more.

A challenge, with his room on the line.

Yeomyeong could refuse, but there was no particular reason to avoid the fight. If he’d wanted to stay under the radar, he wouldn’t have acted the way he had at the airport.

‘…Feels like I’m fighting more often than I did as a mercenary.’

Opening his bag to retrieve his sword, Yeomyeong paused, instead setting the bag on the ground and balling his fists.

‘No need for a sword against kids.’

Wesley, seeing this, raised his fists as well, a grin spreading across his face.

“…Bare hands, is it?”

“Bare hands. Any rules?”

“Until one of us surrenders.”

The dorm supervisors moved to intervene, but the head supervisor gestured for them to stand down.

An official room-battle was about to commence between Yeomyeong and Wesley.

—Hey! Everyone upstairs, get down here! Wesley’s taking on the transfer student!

As the supervisors sighed and the students cheered, Wesley launched himself forward.