We Are a Newlywed Couple Who Entered the Academy

This year marked the 30th anniversary of tenure for Ronan Iotophos, a professor of the Faculty of Magic at Arwitch Academy, colloquially referred to as the . Currently, he was in a very irritable mood.

Although the Academy had long declared its commitment to , he never imagined that, with his seniority, he would be assigned to compile entrance exam scores.

‘The world is truly doomed.’

This was all because of that man, Groseff. Sure, there was no denying his unparalleled magical abilities, but talent aside, the societal changed spurred by that grand mage were significant — no, describing them as fell woefully short. They were nothing less than revolutionary.

Although Ronan prided himself on his broad-mindedness and belief in equality, watching nobles mingle freely with commoners — or worse, commoners addressing nobles as friends without a trace of deference — made his insides churn.

“Tsk.”

Clicking his tongue unconsciously, Ronan turned his attention back to the sheet in his hand. The table listed scores for each subject, total scores on the far right, and final grades adjusted for weighting.

Since the sheet already ranked students in descending order based on weighted scores, his task was to check for calculation errors and ensure the rankings were correct.

His brain worked swiftly. A lifetime of magical research, coupled with occasional hands-on experiments with scrolls, made calculations like this trivial for him. As he reviewed the seemingly endless columns of numbers, something unusual caught his eye.

‘… how peculiar.’

The name Samuel Azyan stood out. His scores were strange. In the easiest subject of the first session — where most students scored at least 80% — he had performed abysmally. From the second session onward, his grades fluctuated wildly. Yet his final score was comfortably within the passing range, placing him in the upper ranks.

‘Confidence? Or just mischief? It’s been a while since we’ve had an intriguing student.’

Clearly, the boy was confident enough in his abilities to pull such antics. Curious, Ronan retrieved a stack of exam papers from a box in the corner.

Exam number 20013423. He found it in no time.

‘Let’s see now…’

As he reviewed Azyan’s test papers, starting with the second session, his initial faint curiosity morphed into suspicion, and then into a deep frown.

“What’s this brat up to?”

Azyan’s problem-solving approach was utterly chaotic. Complex problems requiring significant calculations were answered without a trace of work yet basic questions that anyone should answer were left blank.

Moreover.

“Looks like someone else solved these, too.”

Half in jest, Ronan had included one of his own questions and one from Chief Professor Alexander Groseff. Both had been answered perfectly.

Until now, Ronan had believed only two students had managed to solve either of the two questions.

One solving his, the other Groseff’s. But Samuel Azyan was the only student to have solved both.

And that wasn’t the only odd thing. His answers revealed a peculiar characteristic. While overall correct, his occasional use of vague terminology and logical gaps in intricate parts — ones most students wouldn’t miss.

It hinted at an extraordinary, unorthodox thought process.

The answers bore fragments of unmistakable genius.

“Arrogant brat. This is exactly how those young prodigies who think they’ve seen the world behave.”

Despite his grumbling, a smile spread across Ronan’s face.

An arrogant genius. Not bad. Genius, after all, was always welcome. Talented young minds never fail to entertain him.

“I should see what sort of cocky face this one has.”

Delighted by the rare amusement, Ronan chuckled, his laughter resonating like that of an old man.

***

The Academy’s entrance ceremony began early in the morning. Covered by a vast domed ceiling, the spacious hall easily accommodated all 314 students who had passed the entrance exams for both the Faculty of Combat and the Faculty of Magic.

Among these 314 students sitting in neat, soldier-like rows, I was one of them.

Yes, I passed. Despite some inevitable irregularities, I overcame the formidable exams and stood among the 314.

Though my lineage was nothing notable, one could still call this a moment of glory for my family — or at least, that was the most fitting way to describe it. I was proud. And that was not the only source of my pride.

[— next, we’ll have the entrance pledge by the representative of the new students. Rose Venisha, please come forward.]

The amplified voice echoed throughout the hall, courtesy of a scroll. From the far-left side of the hall, Rose Venisha, seated in the frontmost row on the right, rose from her seat.

The rhythmic click of her heels rang out. With the vibrancy of a budding flower, her red hair flowing behind her, Venisha stepped onto the stage and stood before the dean of the Academy.

[I pledge…]

Her clear voice, amplified for all to hear, echoed with a concise vow to approach her studies and training with proper conduct and dedication. With her pledge concluded, she gracefully returned to her seat.

Rose Venisha, a lady of the distinguished Rose family and my wife, achieved the highest entrance scores across both faculties.

‘Is she from the Rose family…?’

‘Top of the class and beautiful too.’

‘If only she had joined the Faculty of Magic.’

Whispers of admiration and envy filled the air. Who wouldn’t be pleased to see their wife praised?

After the uneventful ceremony concluded, the Faculty of Magic students headed west, while the Faculty of Combat students moved east. Stepping out of the auditorium, the Academy split clearly into two geographical sections at the wide circular fountain, the , home to the Faculty of Magic, and the , home to the Faculty of Martial Arts.

The first class I signed up for is , taught by Professor Ronan Iotophos. It was a mandatory course for all first-year students in the Faculty of Magic, so there was still some time before it began. However, in Venisha’s case, her remaining time was much tighter than mine. Going against the flow, I headed east to the designated meeting spot.

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry about this.”

As I approached the agreed location, a man’s voice reached my ears from beyond the bend of an alley.

An orange stain spread across Venisha’s white blouse. The damp fabric clung to her skin, revealing her silhouette beneath.

“No, it’s fine.”

She said with a radiant smile, the kind that could brighten anyone’s day. In contrast, the man wore a rather unpleasant grin.

“Fine? How can you say that when you’re soaked? My, what should I do now?”

He furrowed his brow before saying, as if struck by sudden inspiration.

“Our family owns a clothing store nearby. Since it wouldn’t be proper for you to walk around like that, let’s go together. I’ll compensate for the clothing.”

“I have spare clothes, so there’s no need to worry.”

“Haha, you truly are gracious. Please, don’t refuse. For now, I’ll lend you my coat.”

“No, really, it’s fine—”

“I insist, don’t say no.”

There was no need to watch any further.

“Venisha. So, this is where you were.”

“Azyan.”

As I revealed myself and approached, their contrasting expressions were something to behold.

“Venisha, your clothes?”

“It’s nothing. Just a little accident.”

The man’s gaze subtly swept from my feet to my head, pausing at the brooch on my left chest before he spoke.

“You’re a freshman in the Faculty of Magic, aren’t you? What brings you all the way out here?”

On the left side of his chest was a silver brooch in the shape of a hawk. If I recalled correctly, that brooch signified he was a second-year student in the Faculty of Combat.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

I was not her boyfriend; I was her husband. That was what I wanted to say, but of course, I couldn’t. Mr. Callwood — no, my father-in-law — was adamant about keeping it a secret.

“No, he’s not—”

“Ah, a friend then? Haha. Well, this is awkward. I seem to have ruined some valuable clothing by mistake. I should make amends. Since our family’s clothing store is nearby, could I borrow your friend for a moment? Unless…”

He smirked.

“You’d like to join us?”

Not only was his mind filthy, but he also had the audacity to act on it with such confidence.

On the very first day of school, no less. While I expected a variety of personalities among the students, this was disappointing. It seemed even the Academy wasn’t free of unsavory characters.

“Venisha, come here.”

“Wait. Are you ignoring me?”

He tried to grab her arm, but Venisha slipped away effortlessly and walked over to me. Momentarily baffled, he flexed his hand a few times, then furrowed his brows in irritation.

“Venisha, isn’t your class starting soon? You should hurry.”

With a wave of my hand, I removed the stains from Venisha’s clothes. The man’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight.

I had made an effort to arrange a quiet meeting with Venisha in this secluded spot, but this beast of a man had ruined everything.

“Thanks. See you later.”

Venisha clutched her coat tightly, gave me a wistful — or perhaps conflicted — look, and then disappeared around the corner of the building.

The man, still processing what he’d witnessed, finally spoke.

“… what just—”

“Not a boyfriend.”

I cut him off, a small act of petty revenge for earlier.

“A husband.”

His face froze, as if unable to process the absurdity or suddenness of my words. My father-in-law warned me not to reveal it, but it didn’t matter now.

It would be three years before he got back on his feet, anyway.

***

‘Trouble always finds a way, doesn’t it?’

Professor Ronan Iotophos clicked his tongue out of habit and quickened his pace. The Arwitch Academy had a less-than-pleasant tradition. Every year on the first day of classes, when the new students arrive, something would inevitably go wrong.

Two years ago, a drunkard stumbled into a lecture hall and vomited everywhere, only to be discovered moments before class. Last year, the Academy’s chairman fainted in the middle of the entrance ceremony.

This year seemed uneventful — until something even worse happened.

A gas explosion. Injuries.

Near an abandoned building behind the , rusted pipes had burst, causing a gas explosion that injured students.

One student from the Faculty of Combat and one from the Faculty of Magic. The preliminary investigation suggested that the incident occurred when a student secretly tore a scroll of the spell in a remote location.

The remnants of the torn scroll and traces of the student’s mana were found at the scene. Ordinarily, such mana wouldn’t trigger an explosion powerful enough to cause significant harm, but the ruptured pipe amplified the situation.

The injured student was rushed to the hospital in critical condition. It was unfortunate, even if self-inflicted.

‘Tch. Those magic practitioners. They should know better than anyone to exercise extreme caution with spells.’

Despite being a professor in the Faculty of Magic, Ronan wasn’t fond of the practitioners who used scrolls. If anything, he found them distasteful.

Partly because incidents like today had always happened, but also because Groseff — a known mage and practitioner — was among their ranks.

The delay meant his class would start 10 minutes late. By the time he arrived at the lecture hall, most of the students were already seated.

A dull, basic course for first-year students. Normally, he’d dread such a mundane lesson, but this year was different, one he had been waiting for, for 30 years.

This year’s intake was exceptional.

As he entered, over a hundred students turned their gaze at him.

Quickly scanning the room, he identified the ones he was most interested in, thanks to the student roster and portraits he’d reviewed beforehand.

The light blue-haired boy in glasses at the front right corner, Aiden Skidi, this year’s top scorer in the Faculty of Magic entrance exam. Had it not been for Ronan’s tricky question, this year’s top rank might have been a tie, and Aiden would have given the ceremonial entrance speech instead.

At the center back, Kara McKellicia lounged in her seat, a pen balanced between her lips and her posture relaxed against her chair. With her hair half reddish-brown and half pink, tied low on both sides, and mismatched eyes, she was striking.

Despite her laid-back demeanor, she was one of only two students who had solved Ronan’s test question, although she had lost to Aiden Skidi in overall score.

And.

Near the door in the front row where the professor could see, a white-haired, golden-eyed young man sat. Handsome enough to make heads turn, he perfectly matched his roster description.

Samuel Azyan.

The only student to solve both Ronan’s and Groseff’s problems.