"Does that mean we don’t have to do the homework?"

"Yep! She said it’s just for the lessons we’ll need later."

"Phew, that’s a relief. There’s so much other homework!"

"Then that means we can just play, right?"

"Exactly! What should we do for fun?"

"Shouldn’t we at least do the other homework?"

"But that’s not really mandatory either, is it?"

"I guess not?"

Sigh…

Lulu, formerly known as the Witch of Clay, let out a long sigh as she exhaled a puff of mana-infused smoke, watching the children rejoice.

‘This is a bit much.’

The talk of disappointing their parents or future careers had absolutely no impact on the children. They were still too young to care.

‘Do they have any idea how precious the opportunity they’ve been given is?!’

Lulu’s contract with Arad only required her to fulfill the minimum duties of a teacher.

Yet, something about doing just that felt wrong, almost like she was betraying the value of her role.

‘Tuition, textbooks, meals, uniforms, even dormitory fees are all free! There’s no place like this anywhere else on the continent!’

She silently lamented over the children’s obliviousness to the golden opportunity before them.

‘At least that Daisy kid seems promising.’

Her gaze landed on a girl in the front row, sitting dead center, focusing intently on the lesson. Lulu allowed herself a faint smile.

If she had discovered Daisy earlier, she might have taken her on as an apprentice. The child was brimming with potential and intelligence.

‘At the very least, I need to get ten kids in this class to focus as much as she does!’

If she succeeded, then maybe four or five students from this class could progress to the Renslet Mage Assembly.

She realized she had to inject some motivation into the curriculum, something that matched the students’ level and spurred their interest.

‘So that’s why Arad came up with the scholarship system.’

She recalled something Arad Jin had mentioned to her recently.

"Oh! Did your homeroom teacher happen to mention this? That there’s a prize for ranking in the top five of the class."

It was all about effort and reward.

"Twice a year, right before the vacations, everyone’s grades will be tallied. If you place in the top five, you’ll receive a scholarship."

Clear and tangible rewards were always more effective than vague, abstract results.

"First place gets two silver coins, second place gets one and a half, third gets one, and fourth and fifth each get half a silver coin. How about that? And you won’t have to give the money to your parents—it’ll be yours to keep."

"Wh-what?! Silver coins?!"

"That’s not all. If you’re in the top five, you’ll also receive a beautifully crafted certificate of achievement. Just imagine how proud your parents will be when you take that home!"

"!!"

"Oh! And there’s also a special badge you can attach to your uniform. It’s a magical badge personally made by Mr. Jin himself, and it’s supposed to be incredibly cool!"

"A magical badge!!"

"And the subject that carries the most weight in your grades is magic studies. Even if you get zeroes in every other subject, as long as you ace magic studies, you’ll still have a chance."

The effect was immediate.

The children’s eyes lit up with more fire than ever before.

Especially Daisy—she had already begun memorizing the runes from today’s lesson.

***

Although Renslet Academy had just officially opened, thanks to my Earth-born “buff,” it was already running in a structured and progressive way.

Admission wasn’t restricted by gender; any student with outstanding potential could enroll.

The curriculum was organized into a seven-year system adapted to the local standards: three years for primary education, two for middle, and two for advanced levels.

Progression through primary and middle levels wasn’t tied to grades, but entry into the advanced level required meeting specific academic thresholds.

In a world where adulthood was recognized at fifteen or sixteen, and where advanced academic pursuits weren’t as extensive as on Earth, this system was more than sufficient.

And this was all geared toward children—those not yet considered adults.

“...Personally, I believe the ideal structure is to use a departmental system for regular operations and form project-based teams for specific events or ventures. This is often referred to as a matrix organization or agile administration. Of course, such a structure can blur lines of authority, but…”

It was late Saturday evening—or “Tella’s sixth day,” as it was called in Arcadian terms. Normally, I’d be off work or tutoring Mary privately, but not these days.

Instead, I was standing at the lectern in Renslet Academy, delivering a lecture.

Ding, ding, ding—

As I spoke, the chime signaling the end of the class echoed through the room.

Setting down the magical chalk in my hand, I waved it toward the blackboard, clearing the content with a single gesture. Such conveniences were only possible with a magical blackboard.

“Well, that concludes today’s public administration class. It’s late, and you’ve all worked hard.”

In the North, where talent—especially advanced talent—was scarce, education was crucial for everyone, not just children.

That’s right. The class I was teaching was part of the academy’s adult evening program.

“Thank you for your hard work, Professor Arad Jin!”

“Since you’re all busy adults, I won’t assign homework. Not that any of you would do it anyway.”

“Hahaha!”

“But please, don’t neglect to review.”

Before Renslet Academy’s founding, the North had no formal educational institutions.

The literate elite of the North typically gained their education by studying in the Empire’s major cities or hiring retired officials or scholars for private tutoring.

“Enjoy your weekend, and don’t forget to bring your abacuses on Monday for the business and accounting class.”

“Yes, Professor!”

As the students filed out in a lively group, I watched them go with a satisfied smile.

Among them were a young cleric in priestly robes, a balding middle-aged bureaucrat, and even a few women wearing mage robes.

They all carried textbooks I had personally written and printed using the press originally developed for the Medikit manual project.

‘Teaching is surprisingly enjoyable, despite the exhaustion. It’s a different kind of satisfaction compared to private tutoring. It reminds me of the special lectures I gave back at my alma mater.’

Initially, I had considered asking Entir to bring in professors or scholars from the Empire.

But I quickly dismissed the idea.

For one, few would agree to come to such a cold and remote region, and even if they did, it would be expensive. Plus, the risk of espionage was high.

And most importantly:

‘I’m glad I double-majored in business back in college.’

No matter how I looked at it, my own knowledge seemed more reliable.

Back on Earth, I had pursued a double major in business administration, anticipating its usefulness in future ventures.

‘Who would’ve thought those theories would help me not just in business but also in education?’

I’d also taken elective and audit courses in administration, accounting, and taxation whenever I could.

I’d even applied that knowledge to grow a startup into a thriving company, combining theory and practice as a true all-master.

In short, it was better for me to teach subjects like administration, accounting, and management myself.

‘I wonder how Jin Industries on Earth is doing. And my body…?’

Using Earth knowledge for lectures brought a wave of nostalgia.

‘Please don’t tell me I’m stuck in some vegetative state. If I go back and find out that’s the case, I might just defect to the Empire here out of spite.’

The classroom was empty now, brightened by light-attributed mana stones that made it feel like daylight. Fire-attributed mana stones kept the chill at bay, creating a cozy atmosphere that might make someone doze off if they sat still for too long.

Alone in the quiet lecture hall, I found myself mulling over my situation.

‘How much more do I have to accomplish before I can leave? Compared to the original timeline, this world is vastly improved. Surely they don’t expect me to stay here forever… do they?’

My solitude in the lecture hall stemmed from two reasons:

First, it was cold outside.

Second, I was waiting for the people I had formed connections with in this world.

Five minutes passed.

“Boss.”

“Mary! How did your class go?”

“Well, thank you.”

Mary was the first to arrive. She had been teaching in the next classroom, delivering lessons much like mine.

The main difference was that she taught adults basic literacy and arithmetic.

“Boss!”

“Ah, Chief Tae, right on time.”

Chief Tae arrived next.

He had also been contributing to the academy’s mission. While I taught advanced subjects to Highcastle officials, clerics, mages, and company executives, Mary and Chief Tae focused on providing basic education to adults who couldn’t even read.

“Thank you both for volunteering your time despite how tiring it must be,” I said.

“It’s fulfilling and rewarding. I’ve never felt this way before, so I hardly notice the fatigue,” Tae replied with a smile.

At this point, one might wonder: what about the former witches, the mages of the Renslet Mage Assembly? And why not enlist Highcastle’s retired officials?

“They’re working tirelessly across the North to eradicate illiteracy. Compared to their efforts, this is nothing.”

The North was vast, and it wasn’t practical to concentrate all educational resources in Highcastle.

If we were putting in this much effort here, others were undoubtedly working even harder elsewhere.

***

Mary, Theo, and I—key members of the company’s core—stepped out of the academy building together.

“The night air is still cold. Hard to believe this is April weather,” I remarked.

“Well, this is Highcastle,” Mary replied matter-of-factly.

The brisk northern night air helped shake off some of the fatigue weighing on me.

“At least it’s refreshing enough to wake me up,” I added.

“You’ll get used to it. Once you do, it even feels invigorating. That’s the only upside of the cold,” Mary said with a knowing smile.

She was right.

While the initial chill was unpleasant, the crisp, pollution-free air of this fantasy world was rejuvenating, clearing both body and mind.

“Great work tonight, Mr. Jin,” Theo said with a nod of respect.

“Is Sir Eote in charge of tonight’s security? I’ll be counting on you,” I said, spotting him waiting outside with our horses.

“Yes, and I’ve also brought Lady Mary and Sir Theo’s horses,” Eote replied, leading the reins of the steeds toward us.

“Thank you, Sir Eote,” Mary said graciously.

“Thanks,” Theo added.

With a grateful glance at Eote, I mounted my horse. Mary and Theo followed suit, each climbing onto their own.

“It’s cold, so let’s move quickly,” I urged.

“Where to, sir?” Theo asked.

“I’m planning a little get-together. Let’s head to the commercial district just outside Highcastle.”

We began a leisurely ride, weaving through the Arad Industrial Complex.

Though the night was chilly, the mana-infused light stones illuminating the streets kept the darkness at bay, casting a warm, steady glow.

Our group numbered fifteen, with Eote and additional knights accompanying us as escorts.

After the recent assault on the Arad Complex, security had been tightened considerably.

Eventually, we exited the industrial complex and arrived at the bustling commercial district lined with restaurants and taverns.

The commercial district, once home to a modest collection of inns and pubs, had flourished significantly since the establishment of the Arad Industrial Complex.

“Hm?”

As we approached the district’s carriage station to leave our horses, I noticed a row of familiar carriages parked nearby.

“Looks like the Bishop Company is already here,” I said.

Several luxurious carriages were parked outside an inn on the outskirts of the district.

“Judging by the wheel tracks, they must’ve just arrived,” Eote observed, inspecting the area.

“Brave of them to travel this late at night. The Redwolf escorts must’ve had a rough time,” I noted.

A total of twenty large carriages were lined up, ranging from cargo wagons to elegant broghams and troikas. Despite their variety, they all shared one characteristic: they were massive and extravagant.

This display was a testament to the Bishop Company’s status as the only Imperial merchant guild capable of operating with over twenty personnel in the North.

“With the coronation approaching, Entir must be feeling uneasy to make such a hurried trip,” Theo remarked.

The Bishop Company often traveled in grand style, but tonight’s convoy was even more impressive than usual, signaling the personal presence of Entir Bishop himself.

“Shall we pay them a courtesy visit?” Theo suggested.

“No, let’s not. I need my rest. If Entir gets ahold of me now, my precious day off will disappear,” I replied quickly, turning my horse away.

“Let’s pick another venue for our dinner. Or better yet, how about heading to headquarters? I’ll cook for everyone myself,” I proposed.

“Really?”

“Whoa! This will be a treat!”

Mary and Theo’s faces lit up with delight, and even the knights, including Eote, seemed eager at the prospect.

“What would you like to eat?” I asked.

“Could we have chicken and beer?” Mary asked tentatively.

“Of course,” I replied with a grin.

And so, our impromptu dinner plan was set. Apart from the building caretaker, Jarvis, having to endure a bit of extra work late at night, the evening turned out to be perfect.