Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor - Chapter 54

Chapter 54: Interlude [2]
As the lecture ended, students shuffled out of the hall, looking drained.

Vanitas wiped the chalkboard clean, his back turned to the exit.

“Professor, I’m so glad you’re back,” Ezra said, placing a hand on Vanitas’s shoulder.

His voice was laced with relief. Vanitas blinked, glancing at him, then shifted his eyes to Karina, who quickly looked away.

It wasn’t that Karina hadn’t done her job while Vanitas was away. She did. She just tried too hard to mimic him.

But with her clumsy nature, it didn’t quite land the way she intended.

Her attempts to be strict came off awkward. Instead of commanding respect, it triggered secondhand embarrassment for everyone in the room.

Even Karina seemed aware of it, making her more embarrassed in the process.

To be fair, she was trying her best. And that, at least, was something everyone respected.

But still…

It was quite the spectacle.

“Keep working hard, Ezra,” Vanitas said. Then, leaning closer, he whispered, “….Thanks for putting up with Karina.”

Ezra snorted, glancing sideways. “You should’ve seen her, Professor… She was practically—”

“Ahem,” Karina cleared her throat loudly.

Ezra stiffened like a child caught sneaking a cookie.

“Of course, Professor!” he said quickly, scratching the back of his neck with a forced laugh before making a speedy exit.

Karina puffed out her cheeks. Vanitas didn’t even glance at her, wiping the last of the chalkboard clean.

It wasn’t like he and Ezra were close, but they’d occasionally seen each other at the university gym. A few casual exchanges had naturally turned into this odd camaraderie.

One by one, the students left the hall. The room grew quiet soon after.

Everyone was gone.

Everyone except Astrid.

She remained seated. Her pen was still in her hand as her eyes scanned the pages of her notebook.

Her notes were packed with every detail of Vanitas’s lecture—ten full pages filled to the brim with every miniscule detail of the lecture that had just concluded.

Wait, no. She wasn’t alone.

A few rows away sat another figure.

Cassandra.

‘What’s she doing here?’

Not that she cared. There were more important things on her mind.

At the front of the hall, Professor Vanitas and his assistant, Karina, were packing up their materials.

Vanitas glanced up, his gaze landing on them.

“What are you two still doing here?” he asked.

“Ah, I’ve—” Astrid started, but before she could finish—

“I want to ask for your guidance, Professor,” Cassandra said, cutting her off.

Astrid blinked, her eyes narrowing as she glanced toward Cassandra.

‘Since when was she so eager?’

Vanitas raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to Cassandra.

“Guidance?” he muttered, setting down the last of his materials.

He adjusted his coat, his gaze now fully focused on her.

“What is it?”

Cassandra stood, smoothing out her uniform before stepping down the stairs toward the front of the hall.

Astrid watched quietly, tapping her fingers on the edge of her desk.

“I wish to understand the principles behind your Clean Path method,” Cassandra said. “Specifically, the condensed structure for harmonic sub-loops. The standard model requires more steps, but your approach bypasses them entirely.”

Her words drew a brief pause from Vanitas.

Karina glanced at him, clearly curious about how he’d respond.

For a moment, Vanitas said nothing. He studied Cassandra with his usual calculating eyes, as if peeling away layers she didn’t know she had.

Finally, he spoke.

“Alright. Come to my office.”

Cassandra’s eyes lit up with satisfaction. She gave a small nod, stepping aside as if to wait for him to lead the way.

But Vanitas’s gaze didn’t linger on her for long.

His eyes shifted on Astrid.

“And you?”

Astrid straightened in her seat.

“I need your feedback, Professor,” she continued “It’s regarding the circuit structure of a spell I’m working on.”

“A spell, huh?” his eyes narrowed with interest. “Alright. You two, come to my office.”

It was quite ambitious, considering first–years didn’t need to create their own spell yet.

However, Vanitas was well aware of the race ensuing in his class.

He turned on his heel and walked toward the door.

Cassandra glanced at Astrid.

“Looks like we’re going together,” she said, offering a warm smile.

“Indeed.”

The two followed Vanitas down the narrow hallway leading to his office.

Once inside, Vanitas walked behind his desk and dropped a small stack of papers onto it. His eyes flicked toward the two of them.

“Close the door.”

Karina, who had followed them in, shut the door.

Vanitas sat down and folded his hands together.

“You first,” he said, his eyes on Cassandra. “Show me.”

Without hesitation, Cassandra stepped forward.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her notebook. Flipping it open to a specific page, her notes were clean, and her handwriting was neat.

She placed the notebook on the desk and slid it toward him.

Vanitas glanced down, fixing his glasses.

For some reason, his eyes weren’t moving, but Astrid ignored it.

“You’ve got the concept,” he said. “But your logic is flawed here.”

He tapped a section of her notes.

“Your mana path is too narrow. The flow will bottleneck under pressure.”

Cassandra furrowed her brows, leaning in to see where he was pointing.

“Then I should widen the path here?”

Vanitas nodded once. “Yes, but not by much. If you widen it too much, the flow will destabilize. Find the balance.”

Cassandra’s eyes lit up. Her pen was already moving to correct the formula.

“Okay, thank you,” she muttered, scribbling notes into the margins.

Vanitas leaned back in his chair. Then, his gaze shifted to Astrid.

“Your turn.”

Astrid stepped forward. She pulled the folded parchment from her bag and placed it neatly on the desk in front of him.

Vanitas unfolded it with a single motion.

The moment his eyes fell on the circuit, his eyes narrowed sharply.

“Did you use my circuit as the foundation for this?” he asked.

Astrid’s shoulders tensed, but she met his gaze without flinching.

“I… I analyzed it, yes,” she muttered. “But I didn’t just copy it. I adapted….”

“I see,” he said slowly. “And I also see why you’re already struggling in just the first layer alone.”

Astrid’s jaw tightened. “What’s wrong with it, Professor?”

“It’s too technical, Astrid,” Vanitas said bluntly. “You’re thinking like a machine.”

“….”

Her eyes twitched as confusion flickered across her face.

“Too technical? I followed every principle you taught us.”

Astrid stepped forward, her eyes flicking to the circuit.

“The flow is optimized. The paths are as short as possible. I even double-checked for feedback loops and redundancies. Every calculation is definite.”

Vanitas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he spoke.

“And that’s the problem. You’re following it too perfectly. Every principle, every rule, every ‘should and must’ in the book.”

“….?”

Astrid blinked, her lips parting as she tried to grasp his meaning.

“I don’t understand. Isn’t that how magic circuits are supposed to be made? It’s all formulas, logic, and precision, isn’t it?”

Vanitas leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

“If you look past the complications, magic is not just formulas and logic,” he said. “Yes, magic is bound by rules. Yes, it’s constrained by structure, by flow, by calculations.”

He tapped his finger on the desk with each point.

“But those rules are guidelines, not chains.”

Her brows knitted as frustration started to seep into her expression.

“Then what is it, if not formulas and logic?”

“It’s an art.”

“….”

“It’s not just numbers and symbols on paper. It’s creativity and intuition. If you only rely on the rules, you’ll never create anything new.”

This was precisely why Vanitas held people like Ezra and Elysia in such high regard.

In the game’s system, players could create original spells without any need for complex calculus or rigid formulas.

However, if a spell identical to one that already existed was created—even if it had a different name—the system would coldly reject it with a simple message:

‘Error: Spell is already taken.’

Something like that.

It didn’t matter how clever the player thought they were.

It didn’t matter if the incantation was different.

If the essence of the spell was the same as one that had already been created, the system recognized it instantly and denied it.

“Yes, you need the formulas. Yes, you need the calculations. But magic isn’t born from them. Magic is born here.”

He tapped his temple. Astrid followed, tapping her own temple.

“Given the structure, you’re doing it backward, Astrid.”

“….”

Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked down at her circuit.

“But if I don’t follow the principles.…”

“You follow them,” Vanitas cut in. “But you don’t worship them.”

“….”

“Look at the best mages in history. None of them followed every principle perfectly. They bent them. They found solutions that didn’t exist in the books. That’s what made them great.”

Astrid frowned, staring at her circuit as if seeing it for the first time.

“You’re right….”

“You’re stuck in the book, Astrid,” Vanitas said. “And if you stay there, you’ll never see past the pages. You’ll never create something new.”

This was the difference between following a path someone else had already carved and forging a new one of their own.

He noticed the shift in the room before he even looked up.

Karina and Cassandra were both staring at him. Their gazes were wide with something akin to awe.

Vanitas raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Karina straightened in her chair like she’d just been caught daydreaming.

Her gaze darted away, but not before she mumbled, “N–Nothing, Professor.”

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her notebook.

Even Karina was taking notes.

“It’s just…. I’ve never heard anyone describe magic as an art before,” she said.

“Un. Un.” Cassandra nodded twice.

Then, with zero warning, he grabbed Astrid’s notebook and spun it around for the three girls to see.

“Alright,” he said. “Do any of you know what a nonsense quiz is?”

“A nonsense quiz?” Karina tilted her head, clearly confused.

Cassandra just shook her head. Astrid, meanwhile, was still lost in her circuit.

It was then when Vanitas began.

“What has many keys but can’t open a single lock?”

“….?”

The three of them went silent. They exchanged glances with one another.

“…A chest?” Karina guessed first.

“Nope,” Vanitas replied instantly, shaking his head.

“Keys.… keys.…” Cassandra muttered. Her eyes flicked up. Her brow furrowed in deep concentration. “A code? Like a cipher?”

“Wrong again,” Vanitas said. “Think simpler.”

He looked at Astrid, who was mulling the question over, probably thinking of something complicated.

Vanitas exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

Finally, he gave the answer.

“A piano.”

“….”

“Oh….”

“….”

A mixed reaction.

Cassandra’s gaze remained flat. Astrid blinked once, then twice, before sighing.

Before they could dwell on it, Vanitas continued.

“What’s between heaven and earth?”

“….”

This time, none of them answered right away.

“Between heaven and earth…. is it…. the sky?” Cassandra guessed first.

“No, try again.”

“Air?” Astrid said, clearly trying not to overthink it this time.

“No.”

“Clouds?” Karina guessed.

He let them sit in silence for a moment longer before finally giving the answer.

“The answer is ‘and.'”

“….Huh?”

Karina raised an eyebrow. Cassandra tilted her head, visibly baffled, while Astrid simply squinted at him like he’d spoken in another language.

“And?” Karina repeated. “How is that the answer?”

“I said, ‘What’s between heaven and earth.'”

He dragged his finger slowly through the air, tracing out the invisible words.

“Right between ‘heaven’ and ‘earth’ is and.”

“….”

Silence.

“That’s…. that’s so dumb it’s actually clever—Ah!” Karina blurted out before clamping a hand over her mouth.

“I didn’t mean that…. Professor.”

“Mean what?”

Karina lowered her hand slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

She didn’t answer, and Vanitas didn’t push.

What happened this morning still lingered in his mind, and he didn’t want Karina to hate him further.

So he let it go.

Vanitas leaned back in his chair. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“The obvious answers blinded you from the simplest one. Just like how you’re blinded by the so-called ‘principles’ of magic, Astrid.”

“….”

Cassandra’s eyes squinted, trying to piece together the connection. Astrid’s lips parted slightly, and Karina slowly tilted her head to the side.

His gaze settled on Astrid.

“That’s your problem, Astrid. Magic isn’t a problem you solve, it’s a concept you explore.”

“….”

Astrid’s eyes flicked back to the circuit she had drawn. But now, something about her stare felt different. As if she was looking at it with new eyes.

“Magic is like that riddle,” Vanitas said. “When you create a spell, you’re trying to ‘fill the space’ between two points, a problem and a solution. But if you think too logically, you’ll miss it entirely.”

He raised his hand and traced an invisible line in the air, mimicking the flow of mana.

“Sometimes, the answer isn’t the shortest path. Sometimes, the answer is the unexpected path.”

He pointed to Astrid’s circuit on the desk.

“You cut out everything ‘unnecessary’ and followed every principle perfectly. But because of that, you ended up with something rigid and inflexible. It works, but only under perfect conditions.”

Vanitas leaned back, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t know what he was even talking about at this point, but as long as it sounded technical, Astrid would buy it.

“And tell me, Astrid, when is magic ever working under perfect conditions?”

“….”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

Her pen hovered over the parchment. She wasn’t focused on him anymore. She was focused on the circuit.

“….!”

She was seeing it.

“Unpredictability,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s what it takes to be original.”

***

After the brief tutoring session, Vanitas made his way to Claude Rosamund’s office.

The moment he stepped inside, Claude hurried toward him.

“Professor!” he exclaimed. “I heard about what happened. Are you alright?”

“Yes, Claude,” Vanitas replied. “Still alive and breathing.”

Claude let out a small sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear.”

His eyes narrowed with curiosity.

“So, what brings you here, Professor?”

Vanitas walked over and took a seat. Then, his gaze shifted to the chalkboard. It was filled to the brim with complex alchemical formulas.

“When’s the next Alchemical Engineering Conference?”

Unlike the larger, more popular academic presentations on combat magic, the magic and alchemical engineering conferences had a smaller audience.

This wasn’t because they were less important. In fact, alchemy and magic were the cornerstones of technological progress in this world.

But despite their significance, combat magic drew more attention.

Why?

The answer was simple. Because magic was a pain. A huge pain.

Even under normal conditions, using magic requires immense focus.

In the context of combat, it becomes even more challenging. That’s why, despite being able to harness mana, not everyone was capable of becoming a mage.

This was also why academic presentations on combat magic attracted larger crowds. They were seen as more “practical” or “exciting.”

In contrast, the complex theories of alchemical engineering appealed to fewer students, despite their enormous impact on civilization.

In other words, it appealed to nerds.

“It’s scheduled for next month,” Claude said. “Are you planning to attend?”

“Most likely,” Vanitas replied.

“Then, will you be presenting—”

“As a spectator, not a presenter.”

“I see.”

After conversing for a bit, Vanitas found it the right time to ask.

“Claude,” he said. “Do you remember Arwen Ainsley?”

“Arwen Ainsley?” Claude’s brows lifted. “You mean that girl who attempted to take her own life two years ago?”

“Attempted?”

“Yes, Professor,” Claude replied. “The faculty found her just in time. She’d hung herself from a tree, but they managed to cut her down before it was too late. Her breathing had already stopped, and her airway was completely blocked.”

Vanitas’s eyes narrowed as he listened.

“They were able to cast healing magic immediately,” Claude continued. “It reactivated her lungs and got her heart beating again. If they’d been just a few minutes later, she wouldn’t have made it.”

“….”

Things started to click.

No wonder her status was listed as ‘unknown’ instead of ‘deceased.’

Arwen Ainsley was never a key figure in the narrative, so players never paid much attention to her.

That’s why, on the game’s wiki, her status remained ‘unknown.’

“And after that?” Vanitas asked.

“No one really knows, Professor,” Claude replied. “Her family never made a statement. Given the circumstances, it was the Ainsley family themselves who told the academy to keep it quiet. After that, Arwen practically disappeared.”

“….”