A Genius Boy Who Was Exiled From His Family Home for “Not Being Able To Use Magic” Becomes a Witch’s Apprentice and Masters All Magic in the Right Way. This Is How You Use Your Magic, You Know?

Chapter 72. Underachiever

The gossip about Hermes didn’t stop even as class was about to start.

Rumors called him shameless, unworthy of a noble, a vile fox exploiting the Trakia family name, and so on.

These claims were baseless, but they were taken as truths.

As if they needed them to be true.

“…I’m sorry, Hermes.”

The girl next to him, Sara, who had heard the same rumors, apologized.

However, she continued, looking apologetic.

“…I know it’s selfish, but… could you forgive them—no, us?”

“Huh?”

She said this.

“I understand their feelings too. The need to vent their frustration and helplessness. I’ve been fortunate enough to have influential people protect me, but they—”

At that moment, the chime rang.

“Quiet, please.”

Simultaneously, a male teacher entered the room.

This was a magic academy, but it didn’t only teach magic.

Given the emphasis on bloodline magic, the primary focus was on basic education—history, languages, and so on, for noble children.

Arithmetic was especially important.

After all, nobles are land managers. Even with excellent accountants, the rulers themselves shouldn’t be weak in numbers.

With that logic, the lesson about to start was on arithmetic.

“Now, we’ll begin a test.”

The man with dull gray hair and thin-framed glasses, with a sharp impression unlike Jurgen’s, announced.

He was Count Geist, the arithmetic teacher for this year.

The class buzzed at his words.

Hermes, slightly puzzled, asked Sara next to him,

“By ‘test,’ he means an exam, right? Shouldn’t we have been informed beforehand?”

“…Yes, usually. But—”

“What is it, you two?”

The teacher, noticing the classroom noise, spoke up.

“Are you saying a sudden test is unfair’? No wonder you are dropouts.”

His words and expression were filled with undisguised contempt and superiority.

“Listen. If you always have the will and desire to learn, a sudden test shouldn’t be a problem. Panicking over a pop quiz shows your lack of seriousness. You’ve probably been wasting your long break. I’m here to correct that, and you should be grateful.”

While his point was somewhat understandable, the teacher, seeing the silent classroom, started distributing the test papers.

Hermes received his paper and looked at it—

“…Wow.”

He couldn’t help but mutter.

In preparation for transferring, Hermes had studied the academy’s previous term content.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have passed the entrance exam.

So, he realized.

This test—couldn’t be solved with just the previous term’s knowledge.

The problems were deceptively simple but contained malicious twists and complexities.

“The time limit is ten minutes.”

The teacher’s merciless time constraint.

Some students, recognizing the difficulty, gasped, while others realized it as they proceeded.

Watching the struggling students, the teacher smirked.

The ten minutes felt like an eternity.

“Time’s up. Bring your answers to me.”

With the teacher’s cruel declaration, students, relieved to be done, submitted their papers—

—but the real ordeal began now.

“Now, I’ll grade each one personally.”

The students turned pale.

From the test and the teacher’s demeanor, they knew what to expect.

As anticipated—Count Geist began.

“First, Albert von Jorg. …This is awful. Not a single correct answer. What are you even here to learn? Your magic must be mediocre too. You lack the spirit to compensate for it. Pathetic.”

Albert bit his lip, looking like he wanted to retort but couldn’t.

“Next, Beatrix von Asman. Also terrible. You scribbled nonsense just to avoid a blank sheet. Zero points. Have some consideration for the grader. Typical selfish rural noble.”

Criticizing the answers, making assumptions, and personal attacks.

He did this to every student, with evident delight.

“…T-Teacher!”

Unable to endure more, or perhaps feeling compelled, Sara spoke up.

“What is it? Interrupting me, Baroness Hartmann.”

“Y-Your words, sir… This test is impossible for us now!”

Realizing the injustice, she continued.

“Clearly, this isn’t content from the previous term. It includes topics from the next term or beyond, not taught yet…! It’s unreasonable to solve them now—”

She pleaded desperately.

Though valid, Count Geist responded,

“—So what?”

Calmly.

“…What?”

“Sigh. Unbelievable.”

To the dumbfounded Sara, Count Geist sighed theatrically.

“Listen up. You are dropouts.”

A teacher, no less, declared.

“Isn’t that right? B class students. You’re already deemed inferior in this school. Complaining that the content isn’t from the last term is pathetic. You should be studying more advanced material during breaks to make up for your lack of magic and status. Such low ambition. When I was a student, many were like that. It’s disgraceful.”

Blatantly malicious words.

Yet, the students couldn’t argue.

They were dropouts, placed in B class for their lower status and weaker magic.

This undeniable fact couldn’t be contested in this kingdom.

“Sara von Hartmann’s answers… This one. Hmph, slightly better than the others, but all final answers are wrong. Acting superior because you’re praised for ‘dual aptitude’ and favored by Prince Aster?”

“Ugh.”

“If you want to challenge me, at least get one question completely right. Then I might consider it.”

Silenced by his sarcasm, Sara fell quiet.

Pleased, Count Geist’s smirk deepened.

“Such a low level and poor attitude. Try harder to make me want to teach you. …Though expecting much from dropouts is futile.”

Hermes understood now.

The reason for his treatment in this class, as Sara mentioned.

—they were also oppressed here.

They must endure this treatment regularly, not just now.

In this kingdom of extreme status and magic supremacy, reflected in the school system.

Mocked and used to satisfy the upper class’s superiority.

…I see, feeling the need to vent isn’t entirely incomprehensible.

Though targeting a commoner like Hermes isn’t right, and he didn’t intend to accept it.

“Another failure. It’s exhausting when none of you grasp my carefully crafted questions. Do you even want to learn? …If anyone aced this test, I’d consider recognizing this class.”

Though impossible, he implied, as he picked up the next answer sheet.

“Next… Hermes? No surname… Oh, right.”

Count Geist sighed deeply again.

“I heard a commoner transferred to this class this term. …It’s annoying. This is a noble institution, despite being for dropouts. Do you understand the minimum standards?”

Shaking his head at Hermes’ nameless paper.

“I doubt you can do basic arithmetic. …I don’t want to see it, but you’re a student. I’ll grade it.”

Clearly ready to criticize, he looked at Hermes’ answers.

“……What?”

He froze for several seconds, then made a foolish sound.

…By the way.

Hermes never attended school, but he wasn’t uneducated.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. Why?

He had an excellent red-haired tutor.

She, the former third princess, had perfect foundational knowledge as a royal.

She taught Hermes all these subjects because they were necessary for magic.

Language for understanding magic circles, arithmetic for constructing formulas, and history for context.

Thus, he wasn’t just familiar with the academy’s previous term content.

He had mastered foundational knowledge on par with royalty.

So.

He probably aced this test.

Count Geist’s shocked and desperate search for errors confirmed it.

…Now.

What reaction would Count Geist, who enjoyed giving an impossible test and mocking the students, have to a perfect score?

Hermes waited, with mixed feelings of reluctance and curiosity.