The painting classroom had begun under a calm, steady atmosphere.
Slender silver lamps on the walls glowed warmly, their light spilling across neat fras and long wooden benches. The faint scent of pignts and canvas hung in the air.
Senior Professor of Fine Arts, Mogut, stood in a black vintage suit. A crimson silk bow tie glead faintly at his chest, giving his presence a grave dignity beneath the soft lamplight. In his hands he held a painting—an image of depth and mystery—waiting to see if any student would volunteer an answer.
The classroom was silent, thick with pressure.
If no one stepped forward, Mogut would select a student at random to start the first round.
Yet at that mont—
A hand went up.
All eyes turned toward the source.
It was Huperion, her right hand raised stiffly, amber eyes wide with disbelief at her own action.
It was as though her arm had been forced up against her will.
A heartbeat later, she realized.
To her right sat an eagle-eyed demon, his gaze locked on her. His pupils shone sharply in the dim classroom.
The source was clear: he was using ntal magic to control her.
If Huperion began the answers, then by clockwise order, the eagle-eyed demon would be fifth to respond—giving him the longest window of observation and deduction.
“You’ll begin then,” Mogut said evenly.
He clearly understood what had happened.
But the classroom rules permitted such tactics. One’s strengths and strategies were part of the ga.
Huperion’s face tightened.
At such close range, she had no counter to this psychic magic. If she went first, then Lan Qi—seated to her left—would be the second student forced to answer.
Her heart sank. She shot Lan Qi a guilty glance, feeling she had dragged him down.
Turning back to the professor’s painting, she found herself completely at a loss.
“…”
Would she really have to guess?
Fifty percent chance of survival… or instant failure.
Just as dread hollowed her chest—
“That one’s the professor’s work.”
Lan Qi’s quiet voice brushed her ear.
Laughter rippled from the demons around them.
No one here could identify a painting that quickly. He was clearly bluffing—just a reckless guess.
And no fool would stake their life on such nonsense.
Mogut’s expression did not shift; he offered no clue.
“Professor’s work,” Huperion declared without hesitation.
She trusted him.
Between her and Lan Qi, their greatest strength was absolute execution.
“Oh? Correct.”
The professor set down the painting, though his eyes lingered on Lan Qi with faint surprise.
The rules did not forbid sharing answers—this was a seminar format. The key was whether the answering student chose to believe.
But never before had Mogut seen such decisiveness… or such trust.
Still, such speed could only be guesswork—just executed with unusual confidence.
—
Next, by order, was Lan Qi himself.
Mogut lifted another painting from the cart.
“Student’s work.”
Lan Qi answered the instant he saw it.
“…?”
The class froze.
Even Mogut himself hesitated before slowly setting the canvas aside.
“Correct.”
Shock flickered across the demons’ faces.
Was he a lucky gambler—or did he truly know?
Even the professor would struggle to judge so fast.
Huperion stared, bewildered.
She had trusted him before out of instinct.
But now—thinking it over—she could not fathom what trick he was using.
She knew his card library. Other than the magic cards he had revealed, he only had one elental spell and one ntal spell. Nothing that could instantly identify a painting.
As she wrestled with confusion, the turn passed to Lan Qi’s left, a young demoness.
She frowned, studying the new painting in Mogut’s hand.
With six examples shown so far, comparison was sowhat easier.
Still, it had co around too quickly. She lacked the magical sense to discern it with certainty.
“Student’s work,” Lan Qi whispered beside her.
“?”
She wavered. Could she trust him?
The painting did feel lacking in spirit the more she looked.
Her indecision stretched nearly the full five minutes.
At last, forced to respond, she said:
“Student’s work.”
“Correct.”
Mogut nodded, his eyes sinking a little deeper as they landed on Lan Qi.
If once or twice could be luck—thrice began to feel impossible.
This student was… unfathomable.
—
Next ca the fourth, seated in the corner.
This demon student specialized in magical sensing but lacked confidence in art itself.
Tonight his luck was poor—no familiar magical traces.
He faltered, gLan Qing toward Lan Qi in silent hope.
“Still a student’s work,” Lan Qi said calmly.
After a mont’s struggle, the corner demon gritted his teeth and echoed:
“Student’s work.”
“Correct.”
Mogut affird once more.
The demon nearly collapsed in relief, offering Lan Qi a grateful nod.
And so the circle turned—
At last, it was the eagle-eyed demon’s turn.
The one who had forced Huperion’s hand at the start.
He studied Mogut’s painting with care.
Surely, Lan Qi would not help him.
After all, the trick with ntal magic had hard Lan Qi too.
Yet Lan Qi smiled kindly and said:
“This ti, it’s the professor’s work.”
“…”
Every student in the room stilled.
They knew Lan Qi bore no goodwill toward him.
So why give him an answer?
The aning twisted—it was no longer rely art criticism or magical sensing.
Now it was a test of psychology.
Truth or trap?
That decision lay in the eagle-eyed demon’s hands.
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