After wrapping up my conversation with Elena, the next item on the agenda was her class schedule. As expected, Elena’s classes were numerous.

She taught first-year literature as a core course, and for second-years, she covered not only literature majors but also those without declared majors.

My role during her classes mainly consisted of assisting Elena or engaging in discussions with students, but even that was mentally exhausting.

As I mentioned, it wasn’t just one class but multiple classes. In other words, I had to brace myself for a barrage of questions every time I entered a classroom.

Now that my identity had been revealed, the intensity of the attention had only increased. Accepting that as inevitable, I prepared myself mentally for each lecture.

"Before we begin, if anyone raises personal topics during class, I will immediately deduct points. Please limit your questions strictly to lecture-related content."
"Ah…"

Elena, however, preemptively addressed the issue. Her firm warning caused a wave of disappointment among most students.

I was initially concerned that being her teaching assistant would become more challenging, but her consideration eased my anxiety, and I couldn't help but feel grateful.

As a token of appreciation, I bowed slightly, and Elena responded with a soft smile. Then, as she adjusted her glasses, it was clear she was ready to start the lecture in earnest.

Oh, by the way, Adelia stood next to me, while Kate was stationed near the door—a setup that ensured they could respond instantly if anything happened.

Thanks to them, I was able to focus on the lecture with some peace of mind.

"History is always subject to interpretation from various perspectives. Someone hailed as a hero by one group might be recorded as a ruthless killer by another. For example, during the Racial Wars, Jace Miracha was perceived as a dishonorable villain ignorant of honor by the elves, yet humans revered him as a hero. Hence, while history itself is objective, its interpretation can often be subjective…"

Perhaps because of Elena’s prior notice, the class proceeded smoothly. Occasionally—actually, quite blatantly—some students stared at me, but I ignored them all.

No doubt, they had plenty they wanted to say, but earning demerits for such trivialities would be too steep a price.

Especially considering Elena was known for being generous with grades, and her exams were based on absolute evaluation rather than relative grading, making her lectures practically a giveaway.

Even so, losing points was a costly mistake, and the students seemed determined to keep themselves in check.

Well, except for one.

I locked eyes with a single student who had been staring at me intently. Her gaze was eerie, but her bright pink eyes burned with an unusual intensity.

As many had guessed, it was Cherry. Rather than paying attention to the lecture, she spent her time staring at me relentlessly.

Her pink hair had grown longer since I last saw her, and her expression seemed brighter than before.

…If only her unsettling eyes weren’t such a problem. Perhaps because of her aura, the students near her kept their distance.

With Cherry's looks, she should have been popular among her peers, but her ominous demeanor overpowered her charm.

Still…

If I wasn’t mistaken, her chest seemed noticeably larger than the last time I saw her. This wasn’t me being a pervert—it was an undeniable growth spurt.

Her uniform, which already seemed to struggle with Cecilia-like proportions, now appeared unable to keep up, the buttons threatening to burst at any moment.

If her uniform were personified, it would likely be choking and gasping for air. Cherry, who usually paid attention to her appearance, seemed oblivious to her ill-fitting uniform, suggesting rapid growth. Admirable, really.

“Ahem.”
“….”

Noticing my gaze, Adelia coughed subtly to snap me back to focus. Embarrassed, I quickly turned my attention back to the lecture.

Even so, I couldn’t help but remain conscious of Cherry. While her sitting in the front row and watching me wasn’t an issue per se, the problem was that students around her seemed uncomfortable and kept their distance.

As I’ve mentioned before, Cherry is stunningly beautiful and has an excellent figure, not to mention her influential background.

Yet, no one seemed interested in her; in fact, they seemed to actively avoid her, which made me wonder if something had happened with her peers.

While her unsettling demeanor might put people off, Cherry still had enough charm to overshadow those negatives.

‘Did something happen while I was away?’

Regardless, I planned to meet with Cherry later, so there was no need to dwell on it now. Besides, I had manuscripts to collect from her and send to the publisher.

Since only the first volume had been released and the second was yet to be published, I was curious about how much material had accumulated.

Though I didn’t want to get my hopes up too much, I’d heard she had already completed the second volume. It was just that I had been too busy to send it off.

While assisting Elena in her lectures, I began mentally planning my next steps.

"Professor, may I ask a question?"
"Yes, your name is…?"
"My name is Hashir Kellik."
"Alright, Hashir. Go ahead."

During the lecture, a student with wavy blond hair and striking blue eyes raised his hand to ask Elena a question. After glancing at me briefly, he proceeded to voice his curiosity.

"You mentioned that history is objective but often subject to subjective interpretation. Doesn’t that mean there’s a possibility of historical records deviating from the truth?"
"Yes, that’s correct."
"Then, what would one need to do to uncover such hidden histories, especially those unknown even to the people involved?"

It was a sharp question, and I immediately realized it was a pointed remark aimed at me.

As soon as Hashir posed the question, numerous eyes turned toward me. Even Elena glanced at me, adding to the pressure.

To be fair, Hashir’s question was excellent—something any scholar should aspire to ask. The issue lay in the fact that I was in the classroom.

After pondering for a moment, Elena began her explanation.

"That’s a fascinating question. However, uncovering hidden history often requires great risks. While history is written by victors, it doesn’t mean the records of the defeated disappear entirely. If historical records are lost or erased, it’s usually a deliberate act by those with significant power. For instance, the newly rewritten Elven myths, while open to interpretation, haven’t been erased completely."
"Could you provide an example?"
"The most prominent examples would be the exile of the Dark Elves and the forbidden magic of fusion."

Hidden histories are, by definition, stories that shouldn’t be revealed, as their exposure could shake the foundations of nations or entire races.

The Dark Elf exile was a tragedy stemming from the height of Elven arrogance, much like the Racial Wars, while fusion magic was banned for its immense danger.

"But even more dangerous than hidden history is the act of distorting the flow of history itself."
"Distorting the flow of history?"
"Yes. For example, demon worshippers who ruled the dark world until recently engaged in such acts, going as far as corrupting cardinals…"

Elena glanced toward Kate by the door as she said this. Fortunately, Kate didn’t seem to react.

"Ahem. Ahem. Such individuals possess the power to alter history itself. If you delve deeply into historical records, you’ll find discrepancies—for instance, noblemen or heroes with no apparent issues suddenly committing suicide or being accused of treason. If you aspire to uncover such truths and save the world, I won’t discourage you, but it will undoubtedly put your life at great risk."
"…"

Elena’s words cast a heavy atmosphere over the room. With a living witness present, her statement hit home.

While I had never been directly threatened by demon worshippers, I knew that letting my guard down could invite trouble at any moment.

Until demon worshippers were eradicated, I would live under their shadow for the rest of my life.

"Still, I’m sure some advice could be given. Isn’t that right, Isaac?"
"I know nothing."

Ironically, that was the truth. The problem was, no one believed it.

Elena chuckled faintly, seemingly taking my response as a joke. Clearly, she didn’t believe me.

"Come on, just a light piece of advice. I didn’t ask for a prophecy, after all."
"Sigh…"

I let out a heavy sigh. Thankfully, I had somewhat anticipated this situation, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected.

I scanned the classroom, noting that most students looked at me with sparkling eyes—except for Cherry, whose eyes remained lifeless, though she compensated with a chilling smile.

‘…Creepy.’

Her dead eyes combined with a smile made her seem unsettling. Could this be why her peers avoided her?

In any case, I had to speak. The students’ attention was starting to make me uncomfortable, and I scratched my head awkwardly. Honestly, I didn’t have much to offer in terms of advice.

"As Professor Elena mentioned, seeking hidden history is akin to walking an uncharted path. You don’t know what records you might find, and they could turn out to be insignificant—or, in the worst case, truths better left undiscovered."

Of course, that didn’t apply to me. I hadn’t walked any uncharted paths; I had merely drawn stories from my imagination, and they just happened to align perfectly with reality.

"Even so, if you choose to walk that path, I won’t stop you. Research is a scholar’s fundamental duty. But once you begin, it’s difficult to turn back. Keep that in mind."

Many scholars were known for their obsessive pursuit of knowledge, often to the point of being labeled as eccentric or even perverse.

I wasn’t much different. Though The Chronicles of Zenon was fiction, it was based on the history of this world, with clichés from my past life woven in.

"As such, there’s no need to be overly concerned about hidden history. If you eventually become scholars and conduct your own research, you’ll uncover many truths. That’s what being a scholar is all about."
"Then how did you uncover the truth, Sir Zenon?"

Another student interjected. However, I had no intention of answering.

More accurately, I couldn’t answer. When I revealed my identity, I had made it clear that everything in The Chronicles of Zenon came from my imagination, a stroke of coincidence.

The student seemed skeptical, but whether they believed me or not was their prerogative. I couldn’t help but chuckle wryly.

"It’s a difficult question to answer. If I told you the story came from my imagination, would you believe me?"
"No."
"Then let’s leave it at that. Thank you for your attention."

The abrupt end to my remarks left the students momentarily stunned, but they quickly erupted into applause, their enthusiasm almost deafening.

I bowed politely in response to the applause. Situations like this were becoming less awkward over time.

"That concludes today’s lecture. Well done, everyone."

Following Elena’s announcement, the students began packing up and leaving. I remained in place, waiting to leave with her.

As I scanned the room, my eyes eventually settled on Cherry, who hadn’t moved from her seat and continued to stare at me intently.

Her gaze felt increasingly burdensome, and I gave her an awkward smile before waving lightly. She finally reacted.

She flashed a grin—a chilling smile that only added to her unsettling demeanor.

‘What’s with her now…?’

If anything, her behavior seemed worse than before.

Later, during another class…

"…Cherry?"
"Yes…"
"Didn’t you attend the history lecture earlier?"

I couldn’t ignore the sight of Cherry sitting in the front row once again.

"I wanted to see you…"
"…"
"You said you wouldn’t abandon me…"

This is my fault.