Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor - Chapter 64

Chapter 64: Council of Owls [3]
Attending the gathering held possible risks. After all, players couldn’t even attend this early in the game, which meant there was a serious lack of information.

The people attending, the purpose of the gathering, and its overall significance were all unknown.

But one thing was clear.

The gathering was where it all began.

In every playthrough, the first gathering at the start of the game always ended with the same event—an executive was murdered.

At first, no one knew who the culprit was.

But by the midpoint of the game, the truth finally came to light.

It wasn’t a traitor.

It was an infiltrator.

A single mistake that took years to uncover.

And all of it led back to one person.

Irene Barielle Aetherion.

One of her personnel had been responsible for the executive’s murder.

That incident marked the beginning of Irene’s downfall.

Her reputation crumbled. Her influence was weakened, and in the end, she was executed by her own older brother, Franz Barielle Aetherion.

While Irene might seem like a villainess at this stage, from a broader perspective, she could be seen as a necessary evil.

Her brother, however, was far worse.

Irene would play a crucial role in Franz’s downfall. To prevent her mistake this time, it was essential to act now. The hard part was identifying the right person.

While most of her followers were captured, tortured, or killed, one person remained crucial—Zia Rain.

The personnel responsible for the mistake.

August 8.

Apaste Venue.

Deciphering the invitation was easy with the Spectacle. The hidden message revealed the dress code, event time, and venue details.

The instructions were clear. Each participant was advised to wear a full black mask before entering the venue.

Vanitas followed the instructions. Upon arrival, he was handed an Owl Mask embroidered with magic after giving the secret password engraved on the invitation.

Just like the invitation, the mask was designed to disintegrate once the event ended.

However….

“Shit….”

Beneath the Owl Masks, the Spectacle couldn’t identify anyone’s face.

For the first time, the Spectacle was useless.

“….”

It was a situation he had never experienced before, ever since becoming Vanitas Astrea.

Chatter filled the entire hall. Aristocrats sipped wine and champagne through their Owl Masks.

The sight was quite funny. They looked like farm chickens trying to drink from a glass.

But the biggest issue of all was how he would find Zia Rain in this crowd of masked chickens.

——Yes? Of course, I plan on presenting at this year’s academic conference. You won’t know who I am though. Hehe~

Vanitas’s ears perked up. His head turned toward the voice.

The distortion from the mask made it harder to recognize, but the tone, the arrogant boast, and even the slight tilt of his head….

No, it wasn’t just familiar.

It was obvious.

“Claude.”

Vanitas’s eyes narrowed.

It was that idiot, Claude.

“Of course he would be here.”

“Greetings,” a voice called out from behind him.

Vanitas turned to see a figure wearing an Owl Mask. He couldn’t tell who it was, but he nodded politely.

“Nice to meet you,” Vanitas replied.

“I see you haven’t socialized much,” the masked figure said. “Need company?”

Vanitas considered it for a moment. Everyone here was anonymous. By the end of the party, no one would know who anyone was.

Unless, of course, an idiot revealed their identity.

——Who am I? I won’t tell you. But just know I’ll become the greatest alchemist this world has ever seen. Haha!

Like that idiot.

“I don’t see why not,” Vanitas said.

At this stage, information was everything. For someone like him, who wasn’t fully aware of the current happenings within the gathering, intel was a first priority.

If he couldn’t find Zia, which was most likely going to happen, then there was the second option.

Cleaning up after her.

“If I may ask, what’s your status?” the man beside him asked. “No need to share your name, of course. But I believe it’s only proper to show courtesy if you’re of higher rank than me.”

“Baron,” Vanitas replied calmly.

Among the official aristocratic hierarchy, Baron was the lowest rank.

“Ah, I see,” the man said, nodding. “I’m a Viscount.”

“Is that so?”

It was probably a lie. In this kind of environment, it wasn’t uncommon for nobles to downplay or exaggerate their status in secret gatherings like this.

In fact, there was a chance this man could be the Imperial Prince, Franz, himself.

“It’s actually my first time attending a gathering, Lord Viscount,” Vanitas said. “Care to enlighten me?”

The man chuckled softly, tilting his mask slightly as he glanced around.

“Ah, a first-timer, huh? Well, there’s not much to it. Mingle, listen, and wait for the announcement. But most importantly, stay alert.”

“Stay alert?”

“Of course,” the man replied. “You never know who’s watching. And here, information is currency. A single slip of the tongue could cost you.”

Vanitas hummed in thought as his eyes scanned the room.

People in Owl Masks clinked glasses, laughed, and whispered in small groups. Some glanced in his direction before quickly looking away.

“If you’re looking for something specific,” the man said. “I can point you in the right direction. For a small favor, of course.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Smart man,” the man said, patting him on the shoulder. “Stick close to me, Baron. I know my way around these kinds of gatherings.”

“I’ll stay here for now,” Vanitas said, glancing around. “Haven’t quite adapted yet. I’ll catch up with you later.”

The man raised his hands in surrender.

“Suit yourself. But don’t wander too far alone. There’s more than just friendly chatter going on here.”

With that, the man walked off, casually blending into the crowd.

——Hmm…. A genius to watch for? I heard Claude Rosamund is the talk in the alchemy field these days. Haha!

“….”

Vanitas ignored that.

After surveying the room for a minute, Vanitas gathered every ounce of extroversion he could muster and casually slipped into the crowd of chickens huddled together.

——Did you hear? The Imperial Prince is supposedly here.

——For real? That’s kind of scary. You’d have no idea if you were talking to him or not.

——Wait…. couldn’t it be you?

——Hah?! No way. It might be you!

——No, it’s definitely you!

“….”

After about thirty minutes, the sound of clinking glass echoed through the hall. All eyes turned to the center, where a man wearing a golden Owl Mask stood.

——Welcome, fellow Watchers. The Council extends its gratitude for your attendance. Tonight, we discuss the path forward. Our path!

It was an executive.

Vanitas scanned the room. If Zia Rain was truly here, this was the best chance to identify her.

——Our first agenda tonight, changes within the branches. The old roots have withered, and new seeds have been planted. Some of you have witnessed this firsthand!

As soon as he finished, five figures wearing golden Owl Masks stepped forward. Their appearance drew immediate attention.

——These are your executives!

Unlike the rest of the attendees, whose masks were plain black or silver, the golden masks marked them as higher-ranking members.

Given the flashy announcement, the Council of Owls was clearly trying to establish something. They weren’t that foolish.

‘Those people aren’t the real executives.’

They were likely decoys. The real executives were probably blending in with the crowd like everyone else.

In other words, it was a trap to lure out potential assassins.

If that was the case, then despite the mistake, Zia Rain’s skills were top-notch. She had managed to identify and assassinate a real executive.

For now, Vanitas was on standby.

***

Irene glanced around the venue. There were a lot of owls.

Her main objective was to find Franz. If her brother was here, blending in with the others, she couldn’t afford to miss the chance.

This was her best opportunity to eliminate him without drawing suspicion. If Franz died here, it would throw this entire secret cult into chaos, especially since no one knew exactly which one of them he was.

The murder would be passed off as their doing.

——Care for a drink, Sir?

A man approached, holding a tray of goblets and wearing an owl mask.

Irene glanced at him briefly beneath her own Owl Mask.

She had gone to great lengths to disguise herself. Her signature red hair was hidden beneath a brown wig, which was further concealed by another wig styled to look like a man’s hair.

Layers of padding masked her voluptuous figure, covering any trace of her femininity.

In short, she was a woman disguised as another woman, disguised as a man, wearing an owl mask, and dressed in a suit.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said, taking a goblet from the tray.

Initially, she had planned to send Zia to handle this task. But after careful consideration, Irene realized there was no one better suited for the job than herself.

The reason was simple.

No one knew who anyone was here.

But Irene had a unique advantage.

「Eye of Midas」

To her, every person had a value. Most people here ranged between 30–50, and most ordinary people always had values ending in 0s.

However, exceptional individuals didn’t follow that pattern.

Her little sister, Astrid, for instance, had a value of 84, while her brother, Franz, was marked at 76.

Irene had memorized these values. In her entire life, she had never seen anyone else with those specific numbers.

The current Archmage, Soliette, was valued at 88, and the legendary Sword Saint, Aston Nietzsche, stood at 91.

These values were unique. No one else in the world would share them.

Suddenly, an announcement echoed through the hall, and five individuals wearing Golden Owl masks stepped forward.

Irene scanned intently, activating her stigmata.

——These are your executives!

Five values.

All ending in 0s.

30. 20. 20. 30.

The numbers were far too low for people supposedly leading this cult.

Her golden eyes swept through the crowd, observing the values floating above other masked individuals.

That’s when it clicked.

Among the crowd, there were people with values in the 50s.

‘They’re the real executives….’

The ones wearing the Golden Owl masks were decoys.

‘Interesting….’

It was as if they were expecting an assassin.

Unfortunately, Irene could care less about their executives. She was simply here for Franz.

When the announcement ended, the Owl Masks began mingling with the so-called executives. Others stood silently nearby, perhaps waiting for the right moment to join the crowd.

Irene moved through the crowd. Activating her stigmata, she scanned each masked figure for a value resembling Franz’s.

“….”

But there was no match.

‘Did he not come?’

It seemed highly possible.

As Irene continued her search, a sudden chill ran down her spine. The hairs on her neck stood on end.

“What….”

Her gaze landed on a man wearing a plain owl mask and a black suit. He wasn’t interacting with anyone. Instead, he stood alone, shoving macarons in his mouth.

Or rather, the beak.

But his value….

[???]

Incalculable.

“….”

Irene’s breath hitched.

She had never seen anything like it before.

Tak—!

She took an involuntary step back. If there was an assassin here, it had to be him.

He wasn’t someone Irene could handle.

The value—or lack thereof—spoke for itself.

This man defied all logic.

Irene’s instincts screamed at her to retreat. Forget the plan. Franz wasn’t here, it was clear now.

She had already been at the party for an hour. Even if he was here, staying wasn’t worth the risk.

With this man present, everyone here would die. Including her.

As she took another cautious step back, the man turned his head slightly.

The movement was slow and unsettling. The Owl Mask only amplified the effect. Their gazes locked.

Then, the man tilted his head, causing Irene to freeze.

“….!”

It still looked exactly like an owl tilting its head.

But that made it even creepier.

“You….”

“….”

“Is that you, Lord Viscount?” the man asked.

What is he….

She had been noticed. At this point, retreating would only arouse suspicion.

“L-Lord Viscount?” Irene stammered, trying to steady her voice.

“Oh, is that not the case? I was certain you were him.”

“No…. I think you’ve got the wrong person….”

“Ah, my apologies,” the man said, bowing his head slightly.

“Are you… a Baron?” Irene asked cautiously.

“Indeed, I am,” the man confirmed with a nod. “And you?”

“I’m… unofficial,” Irene answered. “My father asked me to attend in his place….”

Her nervousness, the involuntary twitching, and her hesitant demeanor made the excuse believable.

She wasn’t the only one here with such an explanation. There were others, with lower values, who also seemed out of place in this crowd.

“Is that so?”

He grabbed another macaron from the tray and popped it into his mouth.

“You should try this. It’s really good,” he said, gesturing to the desserts.

“I’m… good. I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Shame,” the man said while chewing. A total lack of decorum. Truly, a Baron. “You’re missing out.”

“….Right.”

Irene turned to leave. It felt like the perfect time to slip away.

“Gonna leave?” the man suddenly said.

“Yes,” Irene said without looking back. “It was a pleasant gathering, but I think I’ve failed to establish myself. I’m not so confident, considering my family’s background.”

She managed to calm herself and came up with a believable excuse.

The anonymity of the gathering made it easier to slip away unnoticed.

Of course, there were always idiots like the man loudly proclaiming he’d become the best alchemist, Claude Rosamund or whatever his name was.

Others had followed his example, piecing together identities through reckless boasting and careless remarks.

Perhaps, that was part of the gathering’s purpose. To allow like-minded individuals to interact under the pretenses of anonymity, breaking down initial barriers.

No one would dare look down on someone they couldn’t identify, making them see one another for their capabilities instead of their rank or title.

Irene left the venue, feeling a chill running down her spine.

The man with no value.

She needed to get as far away as possible.

***

Vanitas had fully adjusted to the gathering, mingling seamlessly with the crowd while remaining anonymous. There hadn’t been any strange encounters beside the unofficial nobleman from earlier.

Anyway, Irene’s mistake was glaringly simple.

Zia Rain had killed an executive—not just any executive—but Franz Barielle Aetherion himself.

Or so it seemed.

The truth lay in Franz’s stigmata, 「Unmistakable」.

It allowed him to create a perfect puppet of himself. It was identical in appearance but devoid of his powers.

By splitting himself, Franz could be in two places at once, manipulating events from the safety confines of his home while his puppets acted as a decoy.

The murder of his puppet alerted him, and in the end, Zia was caught after years passed.

Though the entire ordeal revealed Franz’s stigmata, there was no need for that.

Because Vanitas already knew.

In any case.

Vanitas suspected Franz might already be there. But with so many masked Owl Chickens around, it was impossible to figure out which one he might be.

As the evening dragged on and the clock ticked past 2:00 A.M., nothing significant happened.

‘How did the narrative go again?’

Vanitas racked his brain.

Even veteran players had no concrete understanding of what truly occurred during this night.

Still, Vanitas stayed. The food was undeniably good, and he found himself abandoning all sense of etiquette as he indulged.

Nom— Nom—

He stayed until the very end, even as others began to leave.

Only when staying any longer might arouse suspicion did he finally decide to leave.

“Uh-huh….”

But that night, nothing happened.

No screams inside the party, nothing.

If it happened outside, still, nothing happened.

Even if it happened somewhere else, Vanitas discreetly checked for any signs of commotion, yet still, nothing happened.

There was no sign of Zia.

No sign of Franz either.

And naturally, no murder occurred.

Vanitas just went home, having wasted his precious time.

“What the hell just happened?”

***

Irene lay in bed, unable to sleep. Her thoughts were in disarray, and she shuddered beneath the sheets.

“Princess Irene, is something wrong?” Zia asked softly.

She was seated on a chair beside the bed, having been summoned to keep Irene company.

“Z-Zia….” Irene mumbled, pulling the blanket over her face. “Have you ever encountered something you couldn’t explain…?”

Zia tilted her head, thinking for a moment.

“Something I can’t explain? Well, yes…. for starters, you, Princess Irene.”

“Not that….” Irene groaned. “I mean…. something truly horrifying….”

“What do you mean?”

“….N–Nevermind.”

If that man worked for Franz, then there was no point in resisting. She’d have to give up and submit to her brother.

A man with no value couldn’t be measured. That alone made him the most valuable being in this world. It was something beyond comprehension.

Irene couldn’t even begin to imagine his abilities.

But for someone like that to work under Franz? It didn’t add up. A man like that wouldn’t submit to anyone.

In fact, it seemed more likely he’d be the one pulling Franz’s strings.

That had to be it.

His casual, nonchalant demeanor, pretending to be oblivious, was exactly the act of a mastermind.

Irene exhaled deeply, sinking further into the bed.

“What are we even up against…?”

Irene, someone with deep connections to assassins, mercenaries, and shady underground organizations, felt fear for the first time ever since facing her brother.