Dawn had barely begun to break, and a girls' dormitory at Saint-Nazareth University was still imrsed in the deep slumber of night. Inside the faintly fragrant room, the bedding on the innermost bunk was slightly raised, thin slivers of light seeping through the gap.
Beneath the covers, a girl in her pajamas clutched a pencil and was writing sothing in a book. Her figure was so generously developed that lying face-down beca uncomfortably stifling, so she had to prop herself up slightly, using a small glowing lamp to illuminate the notebook on the bed board.
The notebook was already more than half used. The current page held a pencil-sketched scene that appeared to be the main teaching building of Saint-Nazareth University, with the words "Teaching Building" annotated beside it in Nari script.
After the final stroke was completed, Jasmine slowly closed the notebook. Faint magical radiance rippled across its surface layer by layer before fading back into silence. She checked the ti, extinguished the light under the covers, and got out of bed.
She had a class at half past eight in the morning. It was just past seven now — getting up to wash and dress would put her right on schedule.
In the bedroom, Isabel, who slept across from Jasmine, lay in a peaceful pose, her beautiful long golden hair splayed fragrantly across the mattress. Although Jasmine had studied it many tis before, she still adored Isabel's gorgeous hair — and besides, Isabel was a kind person, too.
As for Milika, who slept on the other side, her sleeping posture was far less "ladylike." Her blanket had been kicked off who knows how long ago, her mouth hung slightly open, one hand rested on her navel, and her entire body ford a forty-five-degree angle with the vertical bed — clearly the result of several unconscious rotations during the night.
"Ha, Priest, I want at..."
Jasmine smiled faintly, draped the fallen blanket back over Milika, then made her way to the washroom to freshen up. She studied herself in the mirror, brushed her hair aside a little as if confirming nothing was amiss, and only then began washing her face.
The cool water had no salty taste. Strangely enough, the water — lifeless liquid though it was — began to glide across Jasmine's skin like tiny serpents the mont it touched her, conforming perfectly to her pale complexion until it vanished entirely. Jasmine wore a contented expression throughout the process.
Once she finished washing, she erged from the washroom like a lotus rising from water, patting her fair skin dry — only to spot Isabel sitting in the living area, yawning and staring into space. She clearly hadn't fully woken up yet; even her sleek golden hair had several rebellious strands sticking up, giving her a look of existential bewildernt.
"Morning... I'm so sleepy. If I'd known, I wouldn't have picked a morning class. Getting up is torture."
"Good morning, Isabel."
The campus of Saint-Nazareth University was already coming to life. Together with the birds chirping on the branches outside, Jasmine could hear many students leaving their dormitories. They needed to hurry, too.
While heading back to the bedroom to change, she roused Milika, who was gnawing on her blanket. The lights flicked on, and the three of them stepped out of the dorm, brimming with energy.
All three girls had classes this morning. Today was the first day of the autumn sester. Jasmine and Isabel were both in the Magic Academy and shared the sa year's courses, while Milika — the Arts Academy oddball — had to run off to a different teaching building. Apparently, she had also signed up for a literature elective, which worried Isabel about the workload, given Milika's other science and engineering courses.
"Good luck, ladies! Don't leave after class — I'll co find you! I want to et Professor Fischer!"
After breakfast they parted ways in front of the teaching building. Milika waved and dashed off. Jasmine cutely waved goodbye at her retreating figure, only to be grabbed by Isabel and pulled into a run.
"We're going to be late — stop waving!"
Upon reaching the door of the lecture hall where their class was held, Isabel took a deep breath and composed her casual expression. Royalty had to maintain a polished image at all tis in public — that was a compulsory lesson for any mber of the royal family. Sure enough, the mont Isabel walked in, many students turned their gazes toward her.
"Your Highness Isabel."
"Your Highness!"
Isabel waved amiably to the students behind her, then led Jasmine to the very front of the classroom. The instant she sat down, she let out a quiet sigh. If it weren't necessary, she would never sit in the front row — being this close to the professor made her an easy target, far too likely to catch the professor's attention.
Still, most professors knew she was royalty and typically wouldn't call on her unless they were confident she could answer. Making a princess lose face, after all, wouldn't go over well.
Jasmine smiled and stacked a pile of books on the desk. Every single one turned out to be from Professor Fischer's recomnded reading list, leaving Isabel too exasperated to even comnt. What could she say — her roommate was that diligent. Last sester, Isabel had copied a good chunk of her assignnts from Jasmine.
Just as Isabel's gaze happened to drift toward Jasmine, a figure appeared at the doorway — a gentleman in a tailored suit, gripping a walking stick. His face, which even by royal standards could be described as quite handso, wore a perpetual air of stern composure. He did not look at the students in the classroom. Instead, he rely tapped the floor twice with his walking stick, capturing everyone's attention.
"Class is in session."
That was the impossibly young professor's opening line for his first lecture. Simple, yet extraordinarily effective. Several drowsy girls in the back rows caught sight of the dashing gentleman and perked up at once, instinctively tightening their grip on the pens in their hands.
Fischer hung his walking stick and gentleman's hat on the coat rack beside the lectern. In his hands he held only a class roster and a sheet of guidelines. Isabel noticed he carried nothing resembling a lesson plan.
The ti was about right. Fischer adjusted his cuffs, plucked a piece of chalk from the lectern tray, and spoke.
"I am the professor in charge of Introduction to Magical Fundantals for the autumn sester. My na is Fischer Benavides."
He wrote nothing on the board. His gaze swept over every student below. His tone was even, devoid of inflection, yet it exuded an unmistakable pressure.
"Per convention, the first class will broadly cover the professor's teaching style and grading policies. However, that will occupy only a small portion of today's session. Once the brief introduction is finished, I will begin the actual lecture."
At this, murmurs erupted among the students, clearly displeased with Fischer's approach. Convention at Saint-Nazareth University dictated that the first class of any course was limited to a syllabus overview and introductions — no substantive teaching took place.
"This course—"
"Professor Fischer, convention dictates that the first class does not involve substantive instruction, since students are not yet familiar with the course content. If there are students who later add or drop the class, beginning now would be unfair to them."
Sensing the tangible gazes of the students behind her, Isabel spoke up on their behalf. The mont she did, every student nodded in agreent and shot looks of admiration at the princess brave enough to speak.
Fischer's expression didn't change, but his gaze turned subtly colder. He looked at Isabel — the one who had interrupted him — and his palpable aura of authority made her squirm in her seat. After a second or two of hesitation, she rose to her feet; it was proper etiquette for a formal address.
Fischer snapped the chalk in his hand in two, waited for her to finish, and then replied in a level tone.
"First, Introduction to Magical Fundantals is a required course for first-year Magic Academy students. Given the shortage of instructors, the dean has set strict enrollnt caps based on headcount. In theory, there will be no additions or drops — unless a student withdraws from the university or transfers to another academy."
Fischer spoke at a asured pace, his voice pitched precisely loud enough for Isabel to hear clearly. Yet the more controlled he was, the more uneasy she felt. Even the students in the back who had been stirring monts ago were cowed into silence by his words, relieved that it was the princess standing up there and not them — otherwise their knees would already be trembling.
"Second, the real reason you objected is not university convention. It is that you do not wish to shift into a studious mindset this early in the sester. If possible, you would prefer not to attend a single class all term. As a professor, I cannot endorse your rationale for refusing instruction, so I will disregard it."
"Third, I despise being interrupted — especially during a lecture. Any comnts must be preceded by a raised hand. If it happens again, I will remove you from my classroom, and you may go back to your dormitory for a nap."
Isabel pressed her lips together. Her composure wavered several tis under Fischer's icy severity before she finally nodded and sat down. Outwardly she maintained a fragile calm, but in truth her legs had begun to tremble. Being a mber of the royal family demanded that she keep her poise — otherwise she absolutely would have burst into tears. Fortunately, Jasmine reached over with a small hand and clasped hers, keeping her from falling apart entirely. It took several deep breaths before she steadied herself.
"...Understood. I apologize."
The students behind her had shrunk back in fear, bitterly regretting that they had chosen this professor's section. If only they had picked the other professor's Introduction to Magical Fundantals instead...
'No, I have to find soone to swap sections with after class. Staying under this professor is a death sentence!'
Seeing Isabel take her seat, Fischer paused for one second, then continued.
"This course has three grading components: weekly assignnts worth twenty percent, a midterm examination worth thirty percent, and a final examination worth fifty percent. In other words, your grades will be determined strictly by quantified trics. There is no class-participation score and no subjective factors. If you want to sleep in, you are free to skip class — it will have no impact on your grade."
"I do not subscribe to a gentle style of teaching. Any behavior that fails to et the requirents may result in a deduction. Late howork submissions and academic dishonesty, for example, will incur severe penalties. This point is critically important: if your assignnt is found to be plagiarized, that assignnt receives a zero. If any form of cheating is detected during an exam, you will irreversibly fail this course — with no opportunity for appeal."
"Very well, that covers the necessary announcents. I will now begin the actual lecture."
With those final words, Fischer had already turned and written the title of the first unit on the blackboard in chalk:
"Chapter One: The Nature of Magic."
As the chalk touched down, his sternness finally softened a fraction. What followed was the opening lesson of the course.
"'Magic is not a fortunate miracle, but a rigorous edifice.' Those were the words my teacher imparted to when I first began studying magic. Now, I pass the sa words on to you. I hope you will examine everything you learn with the most exacting eye, and co to appreciate the splendor of magic."
Isabel opened her mouth, then gripped her pen and forced herself to shift into study mode.
Reviews
All reviews (0)