Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor - Chapter 132

Chapter 132: Banquet [1]
Snow drifted outside the Theocracy as Vanitas and Charlotte made their way to the house he had reserved. A rentable accommodation equipped with everything they needed.

Accompanying them were trusted servants. Vanitas had brought his driver, Evan, who had gone ahead to arrange for a rental car.

Charlotte, meanwhile, was accompanied by her personal maid, Heidi, whom she had grown up with. Alongside Heidi were two additional maids under her supervision.

Aside from Charlotte, Vanitas had also grown up with Heidi. To her, this young master was like a son.

Aware of her sentiments, Vanitas had mostly kept his distance from her at home. Like the rest of the servants, she had no idea that he wasn’t the real Vanitas.

How the kind boy they once knew had hardened into a difficult and ruthless young master, only to change yet again into the person he was now.

In any case, for those who had served since their father’s time, witnessing this transformation was nothing short of baffling.

Yet, they could not speak of it.

They had no right to question the young master’s ways.

Or as they called him, their Lord.

After finishing the setup, cleaning, and other preparations, Vanitas settled into the living room and took a sip of his coffee prepared by the maids.

“Here it is, Lord Astrea,” one of them said, placing the cup before him.

Vanitas gave a small nod of acknowledgement, and the maids quietly returned to their duties.

It was an odd habit he had carried over from both lives. No matter how strange it seemed, he simply couldn’t fall asleep without having a cup of coffee first.

As he drank, he turned his attention to the lecture notes he had prepared in advance for his return to the university. The hours slipped by as he focused until a sudden knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

To— Tok.

A familiar voice followed.

——Hello? It’s Evan.

Vanitas set his coffee down and was about to rise when Heidi moved ahead of him.

“No need to trouble yourself, Lord Astrea,” she said.

She approached the door and opened it, revealing Evan, who stood outside. His winter coat had been dusted with snow from the cold night.

He stepped in, rubbing his gloved hands together for warmth.

“The car is ready, Lord Astrea,” Evan reported. “Picked out the best one they had.”

Vanitas nodded. “Good.”

Evan hesitated for a moment before adding, “The roads might be a little rough in the morning. The snow is piling up faster than expected.”

“That won’t be an issue. We’ll manage.”

Evan reached into his coat and handed over a folded newspaper. “Also, the newspaper you asked for.”

Vanitas took it without looking up. “Alright.”

With a respectful bow, Evan stepped back. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Vanitas watched as he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him. Unfolding the newspaper, the headlines immediately caught his attention, and his brows lifted slightly.

[Terrorist Attack During the Late Leader’s Death Anniversary?!]

It was about the Zyphran Dominion.

“Oh…?”

Something had changed.

This attack was a fixed event that had occurred in every route of the game’s narrative. However, as far as Vanitas could remember, it wasn’t supposed to happen this soon.

Even as he skimmed through information relayed on the spectacles, he wasn’t wrong.

The date.

It was supposed to happen in 2023—not 2022.

Silence settled over him as he processed this discrepancy. His fingers tightened slightly around the edges of the paper.

“….”

The game had never played out exactly the same in every run. But fixed events, especially those beyond the player’s control—were never supposed to change.

This attack was one of them.

At this point in the narrative, the player shouldn’t even have the means to enter the militaristic Empire.

The Zyphran Dominion’s borders were closed, and crossing them required an extensive list of approved documents.

So what changed?

“….”

No, why even question it?

What’s best was to prepare in advance for any other discrepancies that would occur in the future.

Especially….

———「Tutorial」———

◆ Objective: Prevent upcoming allegations and avoid losing your teaching profession at all costs.

「Rewards:」

◆ Understanding: +140%

———————

….This specific quest.

* * *

Dark skies swallowed the world. Rain poured relentlessly with mist rising from the drenched earth. The ground had turned to mud as boots sank into the wet soil with every step.

A child walked along the pavement, her small hand clasped in the grip of an older boy. Both were dressed in black. He held an umbrella, shielding them from the downpour.

The world was cold, drowning in rain. The street ahead felt impossibly far, her short strides struggling against the way the earth clung to her feet.

Yet, despite it all, her brother’s grip tightened on her hand.

——You’re too noisy, Charlotte. Father will notice.

A voice followed.

The two of them halted. Ahead, the silent crowd pressed forward, their steps heavy with mourning.

“….”

The child hesitated, then slowly lifted her gaze. Her heart trembled as she met the eyes of the one who spoke.

Two amethyst eyes.

Eyes she had never inherited from her mother.

She pressed her lips together in a thin line. Her brother’s face looked pale. His grip on her hand tightened as he stared ahead, unwavering.

——No matter what, brother will protect you.

They were the children of the one who had passed, yet they were not even allowed at the front of this death march. That right belonged to their father alone, commanding that their presence was unnecessary.

But at this moment, the child was still too young to understand what that truly meant.

——I won’t let father even lay a single finger on you. So… I hope… in the future, you’d be patient with me, Charlotte.

“….?”

The girl merely blinked her eyes, tilting her head in confusion.

Pitter. Patter.

The rain continued to fall as the funeral procession moved forward.

….A funeral procession for Clarice Astrea.

.

.

“Huam.”

Charlotte stirred awake, yawning as she blinked herself out of a daze. Once—then twice.

“….?”

The unfamiliar ceiling above her made her pause.

“Ah.”

Right. They were in the Theocracy.

They had traveled here to attend the inauguration of the Saintess. It was a once-in-a-lifetime event, considering that only one appeared per generation.

There wasn’t any particularly pressing reason for them to be present, but more than anything, according to her brother, their purpose here was networking.

Nobility from various Empires had gathered, making this an ideal stage for establishing connections with the higher aristocrats.

——Lady Charlotte?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice from beyond the door.

She recognized the voice immediately.

“Yes, Heidi. I’m awake,” Charlotte responded, sitting up.

The door opened just enough for Heidi to peek in.

“Breakfast has been prepared, my Lady. Would you like to freshen up first?”

Charlotte stretched slightly before nodding. “Yes, I’ll be out soon.”

Heidi gave a slight bow before retreating, leaving Charlotte alone once more.

“….”

Right. More importantly, they were Marquesses now.

It was still a surreal thought. Truthfully, Charlotte hadn’t anticipated this outcome at all.

“Huam.”

She yawned, then rose from the bed. Then, she made her way to the mirror, running a brush through her hair to smooth out the tangles.

Once satisfied, she tied her long black hair into a ponytail.

With that done, she left her room and headed toward the dining area, indulging in the breakfast that had been prepared.

Today was going to be busy—just as her brother had said.

The two of them needed to select appropriate attire for tomorrow’s banquet.

They had refrained from purchasing anything beforehand to ensure that their choices would align with the Theocracy’s formal dress code.

After all, it was a religious Empire and so, there were several things that were numerous considerations to keep in mind.

With their meal finished, the siblings went about their morning routine—bathing, dressing, and preparing for the day ahead.

Once ready, they set out to purchase the necessary attire, selecting appropriate clothing, ornaments, and accessories that adhered to the Theocracy’s customs.

As they moved through the city, the siblings took their time exploring. They wandered through the streets, taking in the architecture, the beauty of the grand cathedrals, and the sheer scale of the empire’s devotion to their religion,

Along the way, they indulged in the local cuisines to sample delicacies unique to the Theocracy.

“Hm.”

Vanitas remained on guard the entire time.

There was no doubt about it. In fact, he had already anticipated this.

“….”

They were being monitored.

* * *

“There’s no need anymore. Retreat. I almost feel bad for keeping watch over two siblings just for sightseeing.”

——Is that so? Understood, Lady Irene.

With that, the communication crystal dimmed as the connection severed.

“….”

Irene remained still for a moment before turning her gaze toward the open closet, where an alluring black dress hung neatly before her.

She slipped it on, adjusting the fabric as she stepped in front of the mirror.

It was elegant, refined, and perfectly suited for the occasion, and Astrid had picked it out for her.

Irene traced a hand over the fabric, a small, amusing smile crossing her features.

Surprisingly, her little sister had quite the talent for fashion. Perhaps it was time to involve Astrid in one of her fashion line ventures.

* * *

The next day.

The Saintess Inauguration.

For years, there had been no sign of a saintess. However, in this generation, humanity had been blessed with someone who seemed to have descended from the gods themselves.

A Saintess, an anointed one, gifted as if to reward humanity for its efforts.

At last, the time had come to unveil the anointed one. the messiah, the one destined to reveal the sacred scripture of the gods to the world.

For that reason, a grand banquet was held.

Important figures from across the continent arrived for this momentous occasion. High aristocrats from every Empire, those with the means and influence, had gathered to witness this historic event.

Yet, one Empire was conspicuously absent.

There was not a single representative from the Zyphran Dominion.

Of course, no one could entirely blame them. News traveled fast, and gossip spread even faster.

A terrorist attack had been reported during the late leader’s death anniversary.

——I’ve got a cousin who lived there. They said it was a revolution.

——Huh? I heard one of their explosives malfunctioned.

In the grand hall, filled with the excitement of high aristocrats, the tension was palpable. Discussions of political instability and internal strife occurred beneath the surface of polite conversation.

What was meant to be a celebration for the anointed one was now overshadowed by talks of violence and the uncertain fate of an empire.

“….”

Vanitas, clad in a pristine white suit with his hair slicked back in a polished style, stood confidently.

Beside him, Charlotte exuded poise in an elegant black and red dress. Her hair was impeccably styled and accented with ornaments and jewelry carefully chosen by their dressers and personally bought by Vanitas.

Like everyone in attendance, the two wore masquerade masks, though for now, none were required to put them on just yet.

“….”

Charlotte glanced around nervously, aware of the many admiring eyes on them. Surrounded by beautiful people, it was clear that the Astrea siblings were undeniably attractive too.

——Lord Astrea?

A soft voice carried through the air.

“…?”

Both siblings turned toward the source, and Vanitas arched a brow in recognition.

Standing there, dressed in refined elegance, was a young noblewoman. One whose family had once sent him letters regarding an engagement proposal.

One he had subtly rejected.

“Lady… Athill?”

The woman before him was Priscilla Athill of the Earl Athill Household.

Vanitas recalled her well. Among the various noblewomen he had met, she was one of the more decent ones.

Priscilla smiled, a poise and graceful smile.

“It’s been a while, Lord Astrea. I hadn’t expected to see you here.”

Vanitas offered a small nod. “Likewise.”

Charlotte, sensing the subtle tension, glanced between them. An engagement candidate?

She pursed her lips, silently observing the exchange while pondering when was the right time to slip away unnoticed.

Priscilla took a step closer.

“Have you been well, my Lord? I’ve heard of your recent endeavors.” She paused, a faint smile playing on her lips. “It’s a shame I wasn’t enough to meet your appeal.”

Vanitas remained impassive. “It was never a matter of appeal, Lady Athill. It was simply… circumstances.”

“Circumstances?”

“At the time, circumstances didn’t allow me to choose a suitable partner.”

“Then… why accept the request at all?”

Vanitas hummed, an unreadable smile touching his lips. “I wonder. But in doing so, I had the pleasure of meeting a beautiful flower like you, Lady Athill.”

Priscilla blinked, clearly caught off guard, before her lips curled into a coy smile. “Oh, my…”

“….”

Meanwhile, Charlotte had begun inching away.

This was terrifying. Very terrifying.

She wanted no part in whatever was happening here. Not at all.

As the two aristocrats continued their conversation, all of a sudden, the atmosphere shifted.

Flick—!

The lights dimmed abruptly.

A brief silence followed before a single spotlight flickered to life, casting its glow upon the top of the grand staircase.

Tak. Tak. Tak—!

The sound of heels clicking against the polished marble steps echoed slowly through the hall as all eyes turned toward the figure descending the staircase.

Vanitas, ever composed, subtly adjusted his stance as he narrowed his gaze, scrutinizing the sight before him.

A woman, with her face concealed beneath a white veil, moved gracefully.

But she was not alone.

Tak. Tak. Tak—!

Beside her, drawing just as much attention, was a man with ivory hair and eyes as blue as lapis lazuli. Cad in his formal black and white Cardinal attire, a sword rested at his waist.

“….”

There was no mistaking it.

Aston Nietzsche, the Sword Saint.

The strongest Great Power of the current era.

And in his grasp, he held the hand of the woman in full white as they descended the staircase together.

“Ah?”

A sudden chill ran down Vanitas’s spine. For a fleeting moment, it felt as if his eyes had met Aston’s.

But that shouldn’t be possible.

He was no one significant enough for the Sword Saint to take notice of. Not only that, the venue was large enough to accommodate nobility from every empire.

Theoretically, it should have been impossible for Aston to single him out from such a distance.

Yet, something felt off.

As the veil was slowly lifted, the Saintess’s face was revealed.

“….”

Silky black hair flowing smoothly down, bright green eyes that gleamed under the light. Her expression was soft and gentle, evoking a sense of protectiveness from those who beheld her.

She embodied everything a Saintess should be. Her beauty was almost divine, as if God himself had sculpted her features delicately.

“….”

But Vanitas stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape.

“What….”

“Vanitas?”

Charlotte’s voice called out, but he barely heard it. His steps faltered before instinct took over, and he began moving forward.

“There’s no way….”

He knew that face.

It was supposed to belong to Saintess Selena.

But… it wasn’t the face he remembered from the game.

No.

It was a face he recognized.

A face that should not have been here.

“You have to be joking….”

——Hey, Vanitas?!

——Lord Astrea!

Their voices barely registered as Vanitas moved.

“….”

At that moment, his eyes met Aston Nietzsche’s.

But Vanitas didn’t care.

His entire focus was on her.

His body trembled, frozen between disbelief and the overwhelming flood of memories forcing their way into his mind.

——Oppa!

——Oppa, please! Help me!

The past crashed into him like a tidal wave. Moments both precious and agonizing. Her voice was hazy. He had long struggled to remember its sound. Even her face had become blurred in his mind.

He hadn’t seen her in over thirty-three years, after all.

“….”

But now, that fog was clearing.

The closer he got, the more her features solidified unmistakably before him. Even though she was older than he remembered, Vanitas’s brotherly instincts told him otherwise. That this was her.

“….”

For a moment, it felt as if time had stopped. As if only he and the Saintess existed in this room.

But why…

Why did she have her face?

His breath hitched. His voice, barely above a whisper, trembled as he spoke.

“Eun-ah… I… I’m here….”

His hands clenched as he continued in a desperate tone.

“Eun-ah… Oppa is here… I finally found you….”