Chapter 47: The Disciple’s Revelation and the Cracks of Doubt

As Sion arrived at the colosseum-style lecture hall, he saw Patrick and other students from the Magic Faculty already warming up.

Sion walked over to Patrick and began stretching as well.

“Oh, what’s this? Sion’s here?”

“….”

“But what’s with that face? Did something happen in the professor’s office?”

“…I don’t know.”

It was Monday afternoon, time for Professor Heriju’s class: Essential Swordsmanship for Protecting a Mage.

Fortunately, he had arrived on time.

“Oh, Sion! You made it!”

“Gáe Bolg…”

“You don’t look too good. Did the professor give you a hard time? That must be it, right? Hahaha!”

Snap!

Gáe Bolg greeted him with a raised index finger.

“By the way, Sion.”

“Hmm?”

“I heard a rumor that you are Professor Heriju’s personal disciple. Is that true?”

“…A rumor?”

It was true that he was Heriju’s personal disciple.

But where had that rumor started?

As he thought back, something clicked.

— You’re too fast, Professor!
— Dahahaha!! I finally have a disciple! Sion is my disciple!!

Right after Sion demonstrated Yulseobo in front of Professor Heriju…

She had lifted him onto her back and sprinted around the academy, loudly declaring to everyone that she had finally taken on a disciple.

‘Well, I suppose it’s not surprising.’

Professor Heriju was a top-tier warrior, having won first place in the World Swordsmanship Tournament.

Yet, until now, she had never taken a single disciple.

So naturally, the fact that she had finally chosen one would draw a lot of attention.

“Sion, didn’t you tell Gáe Bolg?”

“Oh… I forgot.”

“Hmm? So Patrick already knew?”

“Yeah, we share a room.”

Patrick was aware that Sion was Heriju’s personal disciple.

After all, when Sion suffered muscle pain from training with her, wasn’t it Patrick who had carried him to the infirmary?

‘Well, I guess it’s fine to tell them.’

Everyone would find out eventually anyway.

Sion decided to just come out with it—

“That’s right, actually. I’m Heriju’s perso—”

“Sir Gáe Bolg, please don’t push Sion too hard.”

Step, step.

A young woman with flowing white hair walked toward them gracefully.

She wore a picture-perfect smile as she approached Sion.

But her eyes were not smiling at all.

‘…Estroza?’

Her name was Estroza Farewell.

A member of one of the Empire’s three great magical families and a leader among the noble factions.

But why was she suddenly inserting herself into the conversation?

Raising her voice so that everyone in the colosseum could hear, Estroza continued.

“Professor Heriju is one of the most elite combat professors, and she’s still an active warrior.”

With that, the surrounding chatter died down instantly.

All eyes turned toward them.

As if they were watching an amusing spectacle.

And in that tense moment—

Snap!

Estroza pointed her index finger at Sion.

“It is highly unlikely that such an esteemed professor would choose a Magic Faculty student, rather than someone from the Combat Faculty, as her personal disciple.”

“Hm… That is a reasonable point, Lady Estroza! However, telling me not to pressure Sion seems a little odd.”

Gáe Bolg and Estroza exchanged glances.

She maintained her smile and replied.

“That’s because I’m looking out for Sion.”

“…Looking out for him?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Her eyes curved like crescent moons as she spoke.

“I fear that the kingdom Sion has built will come crumbling down.”

“…?”

Sion tilted his head in confusion.

A kingdom? Crumbling down?

‘What is she even talking about now?’

Her cryptic way of speaking was difficult for Sion to understand.

He needed a skilled interpreter.

‘Patrick…?’

But Patrick only smiled.

Normally, he would be at Sion’s side, whispering explanations.

Yet now, he stood at a distance, smiling knowingly.

Wait… Could it be—

‘Is he treating this like a show?!’

Sion immediately realized Patrick’s intentions.

Was he just going to sit back and enjoy the drama since it didn’t involve him?

…Oh, he was going to pay for this later.

“What are you standing there blankly for, Sion?”

“…”

“I understand. You want the protection of a strong backer. But… don’t you think this is going too far?”

She cast a slow glance around at the gathered Magic Faculty students.

“This is the esteemed Byzantium Academy. You are a mere first-year student, still young. That means you can be granted leniency.”

“Leniency…?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Estroza gazed at him with an expression of concern.

“So now, why don’t you just admit the truth—”

“I’m here-daram!!”

Tap, tap!

A light, bouncy step.

Perky ears.

A fluffy tail.

Heriju, the squirrel beastkin, entered the colosseum.

“Hm? Why’s everyone gathered here-daram?”

“…Ah, good afternoon, Professor.”

“Great to see you-daram! Let’s start class-daram.”

“Before that, Professor, I have a question.”

“Hm? Let’s hear it-daram.”

Estroza gestured toward Sion as she asked,

“There’s a rumor that Sion, a first-year Magic Faculty student, is your only personal disciple. Is that true?

I was just curious.

Ah! If it’s an inappropriate question, I apologize.”

She actually asked it so directly.

Naturally, everyone’s gaze shifted from Estroza to Professor Heriju.

The tension in the air was palpable.

Even the sound of people breathing could be heard.

“That’s correct-daram!”

“Right? I knew it was a lie… huh?”

“Sion is my one and only disciple-daram! Dahahaha!”

Professor Heriju cheerfully confirmed Sion as her personal disciple.

It felt as if a crack had formed across Estroza’s expression.

“…What? That… that can’t be. Sion isn’t even in the Combat Faculty, so why…?”

“Because he is the only person capable of using my proud Yulseo Swordsmanship-daram! And look at that sword-daram!”

At her words, all the students’ gazes instantly shifted to Sion’s waist.

A beautifully crafted wooden scabbard.

Even at a glance, it was clear this was no ordinary object.

“That is one of the Thirteen Mastercrafted Swords made by the renowned Katakula-daram!”

“…???”

“Th-The Thirteen Mastercrafted Swords?!”

“The ones said to exist only thirteen in the entire world…?”

“That’s impossible!”

Murmur, murmur!

The Thirteen Mastercrafted Swords by Katakula.

Each sword possessed a unique and powerful ability.

Their value was beyond measure, and they were practically legendary artifacts.

Sion ran his hand over the scabbard, looking bewildered.

‘Wait, this is news to me too…?’

Boryan had once read the inscription on the blade and mentioned that it was made by the legendary craftsman Katakula.

But Sion had never imagined that this sword was not just any Katakula sword—but one of the legendary thirteen.

“Professor, are you serious…?”

“Hmm? Of course-daram. Sion is my disciple-daram!”

“No, not that—this sword…”

“If you’re asking whether it’s one of the Thirteen Mastercrafted Swords—then yes, it is-daram.”

“This is my first time hearing that…?”

“Oh? Really-daram? Ah!”

Professor Heriju’s eyes rolled in thought, and then—pop!—her tail shot straight up.

“I forgot to tell you when I gave it to you-daram!”

“…Excuse me?”

Sion was at a loss for words.

No matter how absentminded she was, how could she forget something that important?

“Hmm… I’ll explain its abilities later-daram. For now, we have a class to start-daram! Everyone, gather and form ranks-daram!”

With practiced ease, Professor Heriju led the students into formation.

From all around, Sion could feel the weight of envious, jealous, and resentful gazes.

No one openly expressed those emotions, but they were obvious in the way they looked at him.

Yet, amidst the students grouping together—

There was one person who remained frozen in place.

“Estroza?”

“…Yes?”

Like time had stopped, Estroza stood still, staring blankly at Sion.

Her unfocused gaze made Sion pause in thought.

‘So what was her intention, anyway…?’

He didn’t understand the Kyoto-style way of speaking that Estroza used.

Having never experienced the noble culture of speaking in veiled meanings, Sion decided to take her words at face value.

“Thank you for your concern.”

He bowed his head slightly.

“…You’re thanking me?”

“Yes.”

Sion smiled warmly and expressed his gratitude.

In contrast, Estroza’s face twisted into an unsightly expression.

It was as if another crack had formed across her expression, deeper than before.

But Sion wasn’t done speaking.

“You covered for me, forgave me, and allowed me a way out in case I was lying—wasn’t that your intention?”

“…Ah, that is…”

Sion pondered.

He didn’t know Estroza’s true intentions.

But if he took her words at face value—

—This is the esteemed Byzantium Academy. You are a mere first-year student, still young. That means you can be granted leniency.

—Yes, exactly.

‘She thought I was lying and was giving me an out, didn’t she?’

Estroza had assumed that Sion wasn’t actually Heriju’s disciple.

She had thought he was the one who fabricated the rumor…

So she had advised him to seek leniency.

“That’s why I thought I should at least thank you for that.”

“…Thank you.”

Estroza stood there, her mouth hanging open as if she had short-circuited.

Her eyebrows trembled pitifully.

‘What’s wrong with her?’

Sion tilted his head, then lightly tapped her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Eek—hiyaak?!”

Estroza jumped like a startled cat at the sudden physical contact.

Sion’s eyes widened in surprise.

Why was she reacting like this all of a sudden?

“W-What?! Why did you suddenly t-touch me…?”

“I mean, stop spacing out and get into position.”

“Ah…”

“It’s class time, isn’t it?”

Estroza glanced around and stiffened.

Everyone else had already taken their positions at proper intervals…

She was the only one still standing there like a fool.

Sion gestured to the empty spot beside him.

“Here, stand here. That works.”

“……”

With a forced, awkward movement, Estroza took her place beside him.

Then, as if spitting the words out, she muttered stiffly,

“…T-Thank you.”

“No problem. We should help each other, after all.

Oh, and by the way, please check the group chat and respond occasionally.”

“…………Ugh.”

“Hm? What was that sound—”

“Alright! Let’s begin the lesson-daram!”

There was a faint crack from Estroza’s direction—like something breaking inside her.

But as Professor Heriju started class, Sion didn’t hear it.

It was probably just his imagination.

…Probably.