Namgung Se-ga, the warrior, was reincarnated in Romance

Once Marianne calmed down, she became a good source of information. She told me how rumors within the Magic Department were spreading about a duel between Little Kiadris and Edwin Kiadris, which was making the entire department stir.

I didn’t understand why my family name had been forcibly changed, but I thought that Ernhardt was far better than Kiadris and wasn’t too fond of it.

“Has the date for the duel been set yet?”

“Not yet. I’m not sure what Edwin Kiadris said, but I heard they’ve submitted an application for the first magic hall to practice offensive magic. The first hall is a dangerous place for practicing offensive spells, only allowing one wizard and one supervising professor at a time. I can’t imagine how Edwin and Kiadris are going to get in there…”

“I don’t think it will just be the two of them.”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

It seemed that Marianne didn’t quite understand, so I explained patiently.

“If they submit an application to the academy, there will obviously be a supervising professor. If I’m right, Maestro Samson from the Swordsmanship Department will be the observer, and Professor Angela Sting from the Magic Department will act as both the observer and the judge. If we’re lucky, a medic might join as well. If the news spreads further, some wizards might come to study the collision of aura and mana.”

“Ah, that… yes? Uh…?”

“If the academy is notified in advance, the professors will take the necessary precautions. Even if the students aren’t that skilled, nothing dangerous should happen. I’m Ernhardt, and he’s Kiadris, after all.”

“That’s, I mean, what do you mean…?”

“Yes, I wanted to fight him, and I asked Edwin to handle all the paperwork for the duel, so there’s no need to worry.”

I now understood the weight of my name. Even if Edwin Kiadris was acting out, I was the direct descendant of the Valentia Duke family, so they couldn’t just harm me without cause.

After explaining all this, Marianne, who had been holding onto my collar with great strength, apologized politely, saying she was sorry.

While accepting her apology, I asked her where she had put the fan language materials from our etiquette class, to which she replied that since we were both ignorant of it, we had decided to ignore it. It was indeed a reasonable explanation, and I nodded.

Meanwhile, the other three, who had been confused about why Marianne was so agitated, looked at me with bewildered expressions and asked what I had been doing. I told them I wanted to try everything I could before graduation, and they nodded in agreement.

After the commotion, we took out the materials from the outdoor class and waited for the lesson to begin.

Over the course of a few classes, I had learned that Professor Cedric’s style of teaching could be described as “freedom” or perhaps “neglect,” and it made all the students in the eight groups quite relaxed.

After waiting for the students to move the materials from the shelf, Professor Cedric stood on the podium and tapped his conductor’s baton on the desk to gather everyone’s attention.

It was rare for him to act this way, so we quickly quieted down.

“Alright, alright. Focus! From today, we will use the gathered materials to make a vitality elixir. Who remembers what materials we collected last time? Raise your hand if you want to answer!”

A few people raised their hands and gave answers.

Some mentioned plants with triangular-shaped leaves, red berries that had formed in the bushes, and seeds from fruits with blue skins, among others.

“Yes, that’s right. And with this. If you mix it with mana stone powder, you can create a vitality elixir. Each of the materials is non-toxic and easy to gather, but because the effects are weak—nothing drastic like regeneration—if you make a mistake with the ratios, the taste will just be unpleasant, which makes it perfect for your first attempt in alchemy! We’ll drink it as soon as we make it, so approach it with a serious attitude!”

We’re supposed to drink this?

The ingredients in front of me looked like colorful toys from a children’s game. The students began pulling out flasks and test tools from their camping backpacks. Each group received a small mortar for grinding the ingredients.

I wasn’t particularly skilled at tasks like this, so I just stood back with my arms crossed while Damian, our team leader, read the instructions and directed the other kids.

We ground, crushed, measured, and mixed the ingredients in order, pounding them, adding a bit of water, and pounding again. With every step, the color changed, and the mixture went from solid to mushy, which was fascinating, but it certainly didn’t look like something we’d want to eat.

When the final mixture was completed, we dissolved it in water and stirred. The resulting color was a bizarre, slimy, swampy green. It was clear that it wasn’t a success, and everyone was disappointed.

It wasn’t just our group—everyone else was in the same boat. Cedric, seeing this, insisted that we all drink the concoction, saying it was too wasteful to throw it away. All the students were forced to take a sip of the thick, disgusting liquid.

The taste was revolting.

Cedric, observing the suffering of the students, laughed in an eerie manner.

“Do you know why alchemy isn’t called cooking or mixing, but alchemy? Why do you think I put a wizard in each of your teams? You add mana stone powder but don’t infuse it with mana, what were you thinking?!”

“But, Professor, the instructions said…!”

“You should have questioned it! Alchemy is all about doubt, my dear little friends. You shouldn’t just take things at face value! Always think, ponder, doubt, and from that, create something new—this is the path of invention! That’s why we call it alchemy! Relying on past practices always leads to regression. Got it?”

Cedric’s true nature was clear now. He had deliberately allowed us to fail, and then made us drink the result. I clicked my tongue.

While guiding us to experience failure under supervision might be a good lesson, it was incredibly unpleasant for those of us going through it.

It was a lesson I’d never forget.

…And then, the second batch of the elixir was completed. It was a beautiful violet liquid with sparkling powder floating inside.

We had used the same ingredients in the same order, but simply adding mana made the color and texture change so drastically—it was truly amazing.

The properly made vitality potion was refreshing, slightly sweet, and had a taste that made my throat feel soothed. Cedric, showing a rare kindness, said that if we needed vitality potions during the exam period, he would give us a little mana stone powder to make our own, provided we gathered the materials.

But I couldn’t feel happy about it after having tasted the earlier, disgusting concoction.

* * *

Recently, I found myself frequently making eye contact with Loubert during swordsmanship class. Both of us were sensitive to aura, so as soon as I felt his gaze, I instinctively met his eyes.

After a while, I began to ignore him out of annoyance, but today, when our eyes met, he silently mouthed “Why?” at me.

Perhaps he was upset about me speaking casually or surprised, but today he didn’t look at me again, and I was able to focus on the class.

Then, during Professor Douglas Mustang’s class, I was left speechless.

Time had been passing quickly lately, but I couldn’t believe the week was already nearing its end.

I had become less focused on mastering the internal energy technique and had started becoming more curious about how to use aura in this world. After receiving permission from Professor Mustang, I took a seat and observed how the other students channeled their aura into their bodies.

I watched for an entire hour, my eyes growing tired, and I wasn’t sure if I understood it or not. It felt like the time when I first saw a person’s hair in Siren, unable to distinguish purple from pink or blue from green, and feeling lost.

I could clearly sense that something was different, but it was hard to identify with my untrained eyes.

But I would figure it out eventually.

It had only been a month since I started attending the academy, but I had learned and gained so much in that time. There was still a lot I hadn’t fully processed yet, but I decided not to rush it.

I felt content, as if I was gradually improving in my mental studies.

As the class ended and I was about to leave, Professor Douglas Mustang called me over and asked if I would like to observe the duel between Edwin Kiadris and myself.

I eagerly agreed and added that since other professors or wizards would likely be curious, they were welcome to attend, as long as it wouldn’t disrupt the duel.

Professor Douglas Mustang chuckled broadly and replied, “Alright, thank you,” but then, with a sudden worried expression, asked,
“But… do you think Edwin Kiadris will dislike it?”
“If he says no, I’ll just ask him if he’s scared he might lose to me,” I replied. “Then he’ll allow it.”
“…Ah, no, I wasn’t implying that…”
“It’s fine, Professor. I’ll say that,” I reassured him.
“…Ugh, alright. Please, Ernhardt Young Master…”
I smiled with satisfaction at how Professor Mustang, torn between not crushing Edwin Kiadris’ pride and his curiosity, ultimately gave in to the latter.

I had received a lot of help from him and would likely need more in the future, so I planned to show him some gratitude.

Who exactly was Douglas Mustang? He was the one who, after I simply mentioned I was interested, went to the Mage Tower and brought back a wealth of research information for me.

There had been many amazing things since I arrived in Siren, but one of the most incredible was magic itself.

The towering spires that reached into the sky were created by magic, as was the ability to sprinkle water evenly over barley and wheat seedlings during a drought, all using magical powers.

Magic seemed to be the source of abundance and comfort, something that I longed to have within easy reach.

In that sense, Mustang was someone who could expertly handle aura and mana, making him an ideal person to get along with, and someone who could easily connect me with other wizards.

The wizards who would come to watch the duel, introduced by Mustang, were surely skilled individuals who had reached their own levels of mastery. I believed that, even if I was only able to get an introduction or exchange a few words, it would be a valuable opportunity.

Unaware of my true intentions, Professor Mustang seemed to be struggling with his own desires, feeling guilty for encouraging a younger student to provoke his senior.

He nodded several times, seemingly in agreement, but kept repeating his discomfort.

To divert his thoughts, I suddenly brought up something I had been curious about earlier.

“Professor,” I began.
“Yes…?” he responded.
“There’s something from before that I don’t quite understand.”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“How many kids do you think dream of opening a bakery? I find it hard to imagine that someone would want that job just because they like it, not out of some practical need. Most kids want to become knights or wizards, don’t they? From what I know, most restaurant employees didn’t really like their work.”
“Well… I suppose it’s because it’s not their own shop, right? If you were the owner of a restaurant, you’d probably be proud of it and enjoy it. I think a lot of people imagine owning a bakery or even an ice cream shop.”
“…I suppose that’s possible. Owning, being the owner…”

If having something was a dream, I could understand it to some extent.

I imagined children who might dream of doing what they loved or preferred, not just focusing on survival. It was still hard to picture such a scene, far from my current reality.