Chapter 225: This Is A Professor?
Esmeralda Everleigh was one of the many heroines Azel considered unnecessary stress.
Why not?
She acted tough off-screen, always trying to assert dominance in conversations, and even when she confronted someone face-to-face she carried herself like a noble lioness.
But the moment you gave her the same treatment, the mask crumbled.
She shriveled, became meek, and worse... clumsy.
Honestly, how did a heroine even die while trying to brew potions?
Azel couldn’t wrap his head around it. He remembered vividly from the game: her untimely demise came not in battle, not at the hands of a villain, but in her own laboratory when her potion experiments literally exploded.
It was ridiculous.
This was a dark game, how the hell did you die like a slice-of-life character?
But if there was one thing that made her memorable besides her off-kilter survival rate, it was her glasses.
Without them, her vision fogged into blurs and smears.
She could only see vague outlines, faint impressions of color and shape.
Her glasses were the only thing anchoring her in a world that was otherwise indistinct.
And right now, those glasses were gone.
Azel scanned the hall. Sure enough, at the far corner, something glinted in the light.
He bent down, picked up the spectacles, and returned them to her.
Without hesitation, he carefully slid them onto her face.
Esme blinked rapidly as the world cleared, the blurred outlines around her sharpening into the striking figure of Azel standing far too close for comfort.
Her breath caught.
"T-T-Thank you..." she stammered, bowing quickly to hide the warmth crawling up her cheeks.
Unfortunately, her attempt at composure backfired... the glasses slipped right off again, tumbling into her lap.
She fumbled clumsily, scrambling to pick them up and jammed them back onto her face. "I... I appreciate it very much, Mr. Azel."
Azel straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his uniform. "No problem. Honestly, I half-expected you to start yelling at me or something."
"W-What?" Esme squeaked, her voice uncharacteristically high. "Why would I ever do such a thing to my class representative?"
He raised an eyebrow. That meek tone of hers was exactly the contradiction that made him wary of her.
One moment she was rabidly accusing, the next she was bowing politely.
A heroine like her was walking stress incarnate.
Still, they began walking side by side down the hall, both heading toward the Runic Magic wing.
Azel hadn’t expected her to be going in the same direction she was just leaving from, but she kept pace with him, clutching her books to her chest like a shield.
"You’re sure you don’t have a problem with me?" Azel asked casually, hands in his pockets.
Esme drew in a long breath.
It was now or never.
She’d been holding it in since the speech that morning, and if she didn’t speak now, she never would.
"I don’t know how you got first place," she admitted, her tone finally showing her true emotion... Resentment.
"It should have been my position. I’ve been preparing for years. I worked harder than anyone, and yet—"
Azel stopped listening halfway through.
He’d heard this complaint in the game too. This very scene played out once before, only with Reinhardt as the unfortunate recipient of Esmeralda’s accusations.
He pushed open the classroom door mid-sentence, cutting her off entirely.
"Well, if you really believe that, there’s a regulation for it." He said flatly. "You can take your complaint to the school board and argue that the class representative position was undeserved. They’ll happily listen."
The words weren’t a bluff. In fact, in the game, Esme had done exactly that.
She had dragged Reinhardt into a drawn-out dispute that wasted a lot of time and ended in bitter grudges.
"...Okay," Esme replied after a pause.
Her lips pressed together in a thin line as she hugged her books tighter. "I’ll consider it. For now, enjoy your symbols. I have alchemy."
She pivoted sharply and walked off in the opposite direction, leaving Azel with nothing but a sigh.
’Good.’
He stepped into the classroom, half-expecting to find at least a handful of students already present.
Instead...
The room was empty.
The rows of desks stood unoccupied.
For a moment, he wondered if he’d gotten the wrong place, or if students simply hadn’t arrived yet.
But then he noticed movement at the front.
The professor.
Or rather, the woman who was supposed to be the professor, sprawled across two chairs like she owned the place, she was fast asleep.
Her head lolled against the armrest, one leg dangling lazily off the edge.
A snore escaped her lips every few seconds.
Azel blinked.
"Ah, what have I gotten myself into?" he muttered.
Was this really Runic Magic class?
Before he could decide whether to sit or leave, the woman suddenly jerked awake.
"Ahhh!" she cried, flailing as the chairs tilted. With a graceless thud, she tumbled to the ground.
Scrambling upright, she dusted herself off, her rather generous chest bouncing distractingly with the motion.
For reasons unknown, she was dressed not in formal robes, but in a loose singlet and trousers like she had just wandered out of bed and into the classroom.
She squinted at him. "What are you doing here? Don’t you know it’s bad manners to wake a woman who’s sleeping?"
Azel just stared.
Blankly.
"I’m a—"
"Oh wait, I recognize you!" she interrupted, snapping her fingers.
"You’re the Class Rep, right? Gave that fiery speech this morning. Got everyone riled up. Not bad, not bad at all." She grinned, stretching her arms overhead with a yawn. "So. Why are you here?"
"I’m a—"
"Oh, I know!" she cut in again, wagging her finger knowingly. "You’re here to deliver something from the Principal, aren’t you? That old bastard always sending me messages."
She extended her hand expectantly. "Go on, hand it over."
Azel pinched the bridge of his nose.
Clearly, logic was wasted here.
He slipped off his watch and tossed it into her palm.
She glanced down at the glowing text across the screen. Her eyes widened.
"Eh?" she muttered, tilting the watch to make sure she wasn’t imagining it.
The words glowed clearly: Runic Magic – Assigned Class.
Her gaze flicked back to him, then back at the device.
"Wait. You’re a student?"
"Yes," Azel replied dryly.
The woman let out a long groan, dragging a hand down her face. "Oh... fuck."