"It’s not my intent to blame you, but true love must know its proper time and place."

That was the first thing Corvus said when she summoned Yeomyeong outside the dormitory.

"It’s unbecoming for a young man to share a room—let alone a bed—with an eligible maiden. Don’t you agree?"

Her tone was that of a wise elder lecturing a reckless youth.

While every word was laced with misunderstanding, Yeomyeong did not bother correcting her. The situation earlier was ripe for such misinterpretation.

A snot-streaked Saintess, alone with him, on his bed, of all places.

At least Corvus hadn’t walked in while he was disciplining the Saintess with smacks to her rear. If she had, her admonishment would have likely been replaced with sharp talons to his head.

For now, Yeomyeong quietly endured her scolding. He planned to let her vent before calmly explaining the misunderstanding.

But Corvus, much to his dismay, showed no signs of stopping.

 

"Your partner is none other than the Saintess. To have your love recognized, you must first become a figure of such greatness that even her congregation would nod in approval…"

"Love is said to endure trials together. If you can’t resist carnal desires now, how will you face the tribulations ahead…?"

"A fresh branch burns too quickly; a dry log lasts longer, but it’s coal that sustains the flame the longest. True relationships must similarly endure beyond fleeting pleasures…"

 

"Corvus. Please, stop."

Finally unable to bear it any longer, Yeomyeong interrupted. Before she could ask what he meant, he quickly continued.

"I believe there’s a misunderstanding. The Saintess and I are not involved in such a relationship."

"…What?"

Corvus’s eyes widened in surprise, her feathers ruffling slightly as she processed his words.

"You seem to have misinterpreted things because of the feather given to me by Morine. But the Saintess and I are… well, just friends."

"…."

"I apologize for not clarifying earlier. I was too preoccupied last night."

Corvus appeared stunned, her beak opening and closing as if trying to form words.

It wasn’t until the students, having finished their meals, began returning to the dormitory that she finally managed to speak.

"Then, are you saying you didn’t invite the Saintess to your dorm?"

"Do you really think I’d lose my mind to the point of inviting her to the boys’ dormitory?"

His response was straightforward, and Corvus seemed to understand. Her beak clicked shut.

"So, the Saintess came to see you of her own accord?"

"…."

Well, that’s one way to put it, Yeomyeong thought, brushing his hand over his face.

"There were circumstances…"

"These circumstances must have been related to you, correct?"

"That’s…"

Corvus pressed further, ignoring Yeomyeong’s discomfort.

"Morine said the Saintess would give the feather to someone she loves, not someone who loves her."

"…."

"By the looks of it… she gave it to you. I hadn’t anticipated it being one-sided on the Saintess’s part, though."

And so, the misunderstanding deepened. Yeomyeong sighed internally.

"Saintess’s love? Really?"

The small misunderstandings had snowballed into something massive.

Explaining everything—his connection to Seti, the Saintess, and himself—could resolve Corvus’s misconceptions. But...

"If I explain, she’ll start following Seti instead."

Dealing with Morine’s antics alone was exhausting enough. He didn’t need Corvus adding to the chaos.

Suppressing a sigh, he redirected the conversation.

"Could we leave the matter of the Saintess here?"

"Love’s lessons bear repeating, even a thousand times…"

Corvus began, only to have Yeomyeong raise a hand to silence her.

"Look around. Is this really the place to discuss the Saintess?"

"…Around?"

Confused, Corvus scanned the area. To her surprise, a growing crowd of first-year students surrounded them.

Some peeked from the dorm windows, others blatantly stared with mana-enhanced vision.

"Why?"

The answer came to her quickly. Two academy celebrities chatting with a massive crow in front of the dormitory? It was the perfect post-meal entertainment.

"Ah, it seems I got too caught up in my storytelling."

"Better late than never," Yeomyeong replied dryly, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.

Clearing her throat, Corvus spread her wings.

"Let’s move elsewhere."

With that, she took flight, motioning for Yeomyeong to follow.

The students’ curious gazes trailed after them, but none dared to follow.

The pair made their way to the southernmost edge of the island.

"Where are we going?"

"There’s someone who wishes to meet you about the matter of those you dealt with previously. We’re heading to the agreed location."

"Then why waste time talking about the Saintess earlier?"

"Er, well, love advice is something one must see through to the…"

"Say one more word, and I’ll turn back right now."

Their banter ended as they arrived at a small rest shelter near the island’s edge.

It was a modest structure used by patrolling guards and groundskeepers for breaks.

Brushing off leaves and grass from his clothes, Yeomyeong reached for the door handle.

But just as he was about to enter, familiar voices drifted from within.

"Why is it taking so long? Surely nothing’s gone wrong?"

A cold, clear voice. Yeomyeong immediately recognized it as belonging to the silver-haired elf he’d encountered in Incheon.

"What’s with this? Who’s this last person, making us wait so long? Do they think they’re some kind of royalty?"

A sharp, abrasive tone—the voice of the Blue Rat operative who had attacked the elder in Manchuria.

Just hearing it sent blood rushing to Yeomyeong’s head. He clenched his fists, struggling to suppress his rage.

"Breathe. Control yourself."

As he steadied himself, the last voice spoke.

"Ah, they’re finally here."

A voice he heard daily over the academy’s intercom.

Creak.

The door swung open, and four pairs of eyes turned toward Yeomyeong.

But Yeomyeong’s golden eyes focused on just one person.

A balding man with an M-shaped hairline and a sharply chiseled nose—Wallard, a Blue Rat operative who had attacked the elder in Manchuria.

As soon as Wallard saw Yeomyeong, his jaw dropped.

"C-Cheon Yeomyeong? W-What are you doing here…?"

"Wallard. You remember me, don’t you? Then you must also remember my warning."

"W-Wait! L-Listen, there’s a reason! Damn it, I didn’t come to the academy by choice!"

Wallard’s desperate excuses made Yeomyeong clench his fists tighter, his mana surging momentarily before he reined it in.

"Breathe. He’s not worth it."

For now, Wallard wasn’t the priority.

The real focus of this meeting was—

"Nice to meet you, Cheon Yeomyeong."

The voice was smooth, like coffee laced with too much sugar. It belonged to a middle-aged woman seated at the head of the table.

Her long, wavy brown hair framed a face whose fine lines only accentuated her serene smile.

‘...Headmistress Himena.’

Why was the academy’s headmistress here? Before Yeomyeong could ask, she propped her chin on her hand and spoke.

"This is the first time we’ve met in person."

"..."

"The academy’s first-ever transfer student. The hero of the first-year class. Which title would you prefer?"

"Just Cheon Yeomyeong is fine."

Yeomyeong glanced to either side of the headmistress. To her left stood a silver-haired elf he recognized from Incheon—Mirythis’s bodyguard, Lymé.

To her right was an unfamiliar figure—a man with short blond hair and tightly shut eyes. His calm, imposing presence reminded Yeomyeong of the superhuman mercenaries he’d encountered in Manchuria.

Himena’s voice drew his attention back.

"Good. Cheon Yeomyeong, do you know why I asked Corvus to bring you here?"

"No, I don’t."

"Do you recognize Miss Lymé?"

The elf subtly tilted her head, silently pleading with him to play along.

"...I don’t."

"And this gentleman here?"

The blond man gave Yeomyeong a brief, unreadable glance but remained silent.

"...I don’t know him either."

"This is Ado, last year’s freshman representative and now a second-year student—a senior of yours."

Freshman representative? That meant he was among the best in his field. But as a bodyguard for the headmistress? That seemed like a stretch.

"Do you know what these two have in common?"

Himena’s persistent questioning wore on Yeomyeong’s patience.

"...Did you summon me for a game of Twenty Questions?"

The headmistress chuckled, amused by his directness.

"My apologies. Old habits from my teaching days."

"..."

"To summarize, these two were brought here to serve as bodyguards for specific individuals at the academy."

Bodyguards. Just like Lymé for Mirythis, Ado must be assigned to another key figure.

"How does this concern me?"

"Their charges survived the recent terror attack thanks to you, Cheon Yeomyeong."

"..."

"The academy owes you a great debt for that. So do they."

Yeomyeong remained silent, his expression barely masking his irritation.

"I didn’t do it for gratitude. There’s no need for thanks."

"Such humility. You’re even better than I anticipated."

Himena paused, drumming her fingers lightly on the table before continuing.

"Cheon Yeomyeong, the academy is home to many important individuals: the Saintess, national treasures, heirs of prominent politicians…"

"..."

"Even with rigorous security, elite guest instructors, and secret guards, we’re stretched thin. The recent attack made that painfully clear."

Yeomyeong recalled Baonik’s notes, searching for any mention of such an incident. There was none.

"Quality matters as much as quantity. Imagine a peer—a student of the same grade, under the same special instructors—serving as a protector. It’s the perfect arrangement."

What nonsense is this?

Himena’s suggestion was so absurd that Yeomyeong couldn’t hide his displeasure.

"What do you think? Would you consider becoming a secret bodyguard for one of the academy’s key figures?"

"..."

"Of course, there would be compensation—money, elixirs, anything the academy can provide."

Yeomyeong studied the headmistress’s face.

Beneath her composed exterior, her drooping shoulders and exhausted eyes betrayed the academy’s desperate state.

He felt a pang of pity but responded honestly.

"I’m sorry. I must decline."

"..."

Himena’s expression cracked slightly, though she quickly masked it. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she asked:

"May I know your reason?"

Yeomyeong couldn’t exactly tell her he had no time for such responsibilities amid his quest for revenge.

Instead, he crafted a plausible excuse.

"I lack the skills and capacity to protect someone properly."

"...I see."

Though unconvinced, Himena nodded. Yeomyeong stepped back and asked:

"If there’s nothing else, may I leave?"

"Yes, of course. Should you change your mind, let Corvus know. The offer stands."

Yeomyeong gave a small bow and left the shelter.

Wallard’s presence brought thoughts of the elder in Incheon to mind. Though he couldn’t visit directly, perhaps he could send a message...

As he mulled over the idea, someone caught his shoulder.

"Cheon Yeomyeong. Wait a moment."

It was Ado, the second-year freshman representative.

"I hear rumors that you’re a Holy Knight. Is that true?"

The seriousness in Ado’s expression made Yeomyeong sigh.

The rumors likely stemmed from his association with the Saintess.

"No, I’m not. I lack the faith to be a Holy Knight."

Yeomyeong’s modest response seemed to anger Ado further.

"What reason, then, do you have to linger near the Saintess?"

"..."

"You have the nerve to refuse a guard role but not the sense to know your place?"

Morine. Corvus. Now this senior?

Yeomyeong’s internal frustration reached its peak as Ado crossed the line.

"If you’re anything like that Seti girl, leeching off the Saintess—listen closely. A caterpillar should stick to its leaves."

This bastard…

Yeomyeong clenched his fists, holding back his rising anger as he turned away.

"…Breathe."

He resolved to let it go, saving his retaliation for another time.

But his patience ran out when Ado added one final remark.

"Frankly, if it weren’t for this guard duty, I’d have taken care of a parasite like you mys—"

Yeomyeong cut him off mid-sentence, raising a hand.

"Senior."

"What?"

"The Saintess can heal severed limbs with ease. Can you?"

"...What?"

"You’d better be able to."

With that, Yeomyeong closed the distance in an instant, drawing the sword from Ado’s waist.