"That's kinda insane." Roy Bellvace was already waiting in Lucien's office when the lunch break rolled around.
"Didn't you the one who wrote that, Mr. Bellvace?"
"I'm not talking about the article." Roy spoke while sipping the tea he'd made for himself. "I'm talking about what you did."
Lucien instinctively glanced at the electric kettle. Steam was wafting out of it. He really did treat this place like his own home—despite Lucien never saying it aloud.
"Every action carries a risk." Lucien opened the drawer and checked the jar he'd hidden inside. It held the sugar he'd bought to make his coffee more tolerable.
It had been expensive. It drained what was left of his wallet.
And even after hiding it so carefully, Roy had still managed to find it! Not only found—it was completely gone.
Lucien shot a glance at the student who didn't even look the slightest bit guilty.
"I hope the risk is worth what you gained."
"And what about you, Mr. Bellvace? You've effectively eliminated your spot in this class."
"Think of this tabloid as a parting gift."
"You're that sure you'll be leaving this class?"
"Weren't you the one who made me believe I would, Professor?" Roy clasped his hands beneath his chin. "I did the work. You pay the price. Remember?"
Lucien sighed. Of course. He reached over to the stack of academic reports on his desk and pulled out one labeled with Roy Bellvace's name.
Technically, students weren't allowed to see their academic reports.
Though it might break certain standards of transparency, it seemed like a normal practice in this world.
It was meant to preserve the dignity of educators.
In a society structured around feudal order, being a professor was a prestigious role. Even minor mistakes couldn't be tolerated.
That rigid system imposed high standards, allowing only the truly competent to survive in the profession.
But it also created loopholes—where mistakes could be 'erased' through manipulation.
After all, no one complains about their grades if they never see the details.
The only way for students to gauge their progress was by following the guidance of the professor responsible for them.
Roy grabbed the academic report and eagerly flipped it open.
"I've reviewed your academic progress briefly. Your performance has improved consistently…"
Slowly, Roy's expression shifted—from excitement, to cynicism, to quiet bitterness.
"…but it still wasn't enough to warrant a promotion to a higher class. The most your grades ever increased month to month was 2%."
It was like being a pro surfer—sure, you could pull off dazzling tricks on the waves.
But could surfing alone get you across the ocean? Across a sea? To another continent?
You'd need more than just skill. You'd need technology. Better equipment. Proper provisions.
And that was Roy.
He wanted to cross to 'another shore', but all he had was a surfboard that would break in a few months.
"Mr. Bellvace, I'll be honest: you're not as competent as you think you are."
Roy didn't say anything. Maybe he was in shock? Maybe he was angry. Or maybe he just couldn't accept the truth.
But instead of lashing out, he simply closed the report and asked, "Professor, what do you think my chances are of moving up a class?"
"As in, by next month?"
Roy nodded faintly.
"0.00001%. Passing the evaluation subjects doesn't equate to promotion. There are other factors—collective average, highest and lowest scores, the weight of each subject."
"And how long do you think it'd take? To get to Class E?"
Lucien did a quick mental calculation before answering. "If we follow your current trajectory, then at best, sometime next year."
Roy chuckled. But it wasn't bitter or sarcastic.
It trembled slightly. "So… there was never any hope for me to begin with." He had his arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched tight.
Lucien opened his mouth—maybe to offer comfort—but decided against it.
Any words of encouragement would probably come off as mockery.
And Lucien disliked false optimism.
"If we follow your current pattern," he repeated. Maybe to emphasize the point, or maybe not.
Roy glanced up, looking a little surprised, then let out an amused snort. "I think I get what you mean, Professor."
He straightened up, inhaled deeply, and exhaled in a long sigh. "If you're serious about your goal, Professor, then you should be careful of someone.
"…Rhea Calven."
#
"…you might've managed to align their goals. Antagonizing Crowne and me was brilliant. But Rhea Calven… she could throw everything off."
Lucien disliked surprises. So he decided to deal with it head-on.
After dismissing his last class early, he made his way to the girls' dormitory.
There weren't explicit rules forbidding visits from male faculty, as long as they were before curfew. Still, there was a certain ethical taboo about male professors visiting the girls' quarters.
Lucien could feel the curious stares following his relaxed steps through the dorm halls.
It wasn't yet dismissal time, but apparently he wasn't the only professor with the same idea—the dorm wasn't entirely deserted.
And when he arrived, he encountered someone unexpected.
"Didn't expect to see you here too, Ms. Crowne."
Althea glanced briefly at him. "Since when did you take up stalking me, Professor?"
She was standing in front of Rhea Calven's room, holding a parcel in her hand.
Noticing Lucien's gaze, Althea followed it. Then, without a word, she shoved the package at him. "You give it to her." And with that, she turned and left.
Lucien peeked inside the parcel. A plastic lunchbox. Did she cook this herself?
And give it to Rhea?
Were they that close?
There were no records indicating any relationship between them.
Rhea Calven's academic report also showed nothing noteworthy—
Except for a single offense. Not truancy. Not fighting.
[Aggressive behavior toward academic staff.]
So when he knocked, Lucien was already braced for a wooden bat swinging at his face.
"One second~"
But what greeted him was a cheerful voice.
Rhea Calven cracked open the door just enough to peek out.
Her maroon-red hair was neatly brushed. A bright smile spread across her face and grew wider when she saw Lucien. "I've been waiting for you, Professor."
She grinned, opened the door wide, and turned away. "Come in~"
Lucien scanned the area cautiously.
Student dorm rooms weren't as spacious as staff housing.
Roughly eight square meters, furnished with a bed, dresser, wardrobe, and a private bathroom.
"This won't take long, Ms. Calven."
"Hm?" Rhea turned to look.
"You've been absent from class two weeks straight. That's a long time. So… is something wrong?"
Rhea smiled, stroked her chin, and looked up. "Not sure~"
"There's a monthly evaluation in four days. Can I expect you to return tomorrow?"
But Rhea seemed uninterested. "Do you prefer tea or juice?" She turned and walked further inside.
"I don't—"
"Juice it is." She opened her cupboard. The top shelf revealed three oranges, an apple, and a bunch of grapes.
Lucien sighed and rubbed his chin. Looks like he had no say in it.
Leaving the door open, Lucien stepped inside. "Ms. Crowne left this for you."
Rhea turned to see the package Lucien handed her.
She took it, examined it briefly, then scoffed.
Without a second thought, she ripped it open and dumped it into the trash.
She looked back at Lucien and smiled sweetly. "Anything else she left with you?"
So that's how it is. "No."
"Make yourself comfortable, Professor. Pretend you're at home." Her attention shifted back to the fruit. "Oh, you like oranges, don't you?"
"As long as they're not too sweet." Lucien couldn't take his eyes off the lunchbox she'd just trashed.
Was that… a friendship falling apart?
He didn't quite understand how female friendships worked, but observing his female colleagues, he could only sum it up in one word: complicated.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
Lucien looked at the glass she set before him. Didn't she say she was making orange juice?
But the liquid was purple.
And it was… steaming.