Ch.346346 – Raw Administrative Sciences Department Lecture 2

<346 – Administrative Department Lecture Eaten Raw 2>

“I will begin the lecture.”

Professor Stand Mill was a strict, elderly professor, relatively advanced in age even among the many young faculty members at Gift Academy.

A stubborn man whose wrinkles seemed infused with regrets accumulated over the years, and whose rigid mouth appeared set with forcibly maintained convictions that tried to ignore those regrets.

The students focused on the lecture, unable to disrespect him for his age due to his unyielding presence and dignity.

“Current society is maintained by gifts—talents permitted to humanity by the goddesses. Those with the talent of a swordsman develop sword-related skills three times faster, while those with a farmer’s talent develop agricultural skills three times faster.”

Talent.

For players who want to build any skill they desire, it’s sometimes an obstacle, though occasionally beneficial when their chosen path aligns with their talent, creating explosive growth—annoying yet valuable.

But for NPCs living their one and only life, talent was an inescapable burden.

“If there’s a person with a farmer’s talent who wants to become a swordsman, the world will say this: You don’t have the talent for swordsmanship. Don’t waste your talent.”

“…”

“Everyone has experienced this at least once. When what you want to do differs from what you can do. When you find yourself at a crossroads between two or more life choices.”

The old professor maintained a brief silence, as if guaranteeing time for the faint contemplation and imagination appearing on the young students’ faces.

Bang.

Their brief moment of reflection scattered with the professor’s palm striking the podium.

“If you were swayed by my story, you’ve been deceived at least once by family, acquaintances, or people you’ve met in society.”

“!?”

“Farmer’s talent? Truly, less than 1% of all farmers possess such talent. Yet those told they have a farmer’s talent exceed 10% of actual farmers. First student to answer why gets extra credit.”

Massgakki immediately raised her hand.

“Isn’t it to force an expected career path on someone by packaging their future under the name of talent, Professor~?”

“Correct. Extra credit for student Massgakki.”

Oknodie, who typically allowed first-time novice students a chance to answer questions, glared at Princess Massgakki for answering correctly on the first try, calling her annoying.

Princess Massgakki stuck out her tongue to tease him. A long, annoying, crimson tongue.

“The Empire doesn’t want the working class to rise to the warrior class. So they constantly claim: Adventure is arduous and difficult. Monsters are strong and outsiders are frightening.”

“They want you to hold a plow instead of a sword. They create a culture where anyone trying to become an adventurer is ridiculed. If you don’t follow the path society has set, you become a laughingstock.”

“And for those who still try to deviate, they make even entry difficult by mandating <Educational Qualification Completion> at specific times each year and collecting <Qualification Exam Fees>.”

Making it difficult not just for students but for teachers to teach easily.

Thus, swordsmanship becomes distant from people.

“Unless there are truly passionate instructors and students, teaching and learning swordsmanship becomes rare. Moreover, instructors who have spent time and money taking exams and paying fees must set high tuition rates unless they’re extremely wealthy or running a charity.”

“When consumption is forced, learning comes with a price, and while the poor struggle to visually copy a single movement, the wealthy physically master an entire sword technique. This is why the upper class easily becomes swordsmen while the lower class finds it difficult.”

It’s easy for someone at the top of the class pyramid to learn lower-class skills, but difficult for those at the bottom to learn upper-class skills.

“Institutionalized techniques and legally enforced restrictions can artificially control the number of swordsmen produced in a country. This is the background that created the <Skill Training Centers> established by the Empire to reduce revolutionary warriors when many farmers were joining the <Rebel Forces>.”

The students felt an inexplicable solemnity.

It was the solemnity that comes from facing a wrongful reality without having the means or courage to correct it.

So what?

Why should I know about lower-class difficulties?

What does that have to do with me?

More than half of the noble students had arrogant looks, but Professor Stand Mill didn’t point this out.

“In the Skill Monopoly Theory lecture, you will learn what systems society has created to monopolize a skill, and what the expected effects and results are.”

“Learning this won’t dramatically change your lives immediately. But I guarantee it will change one aspect of how you view the world.”

“Including realizing how extraordinary the learning opportunity you’re currently enjoying truly is.”

Students occasionally yawned during Stand Mill’s unusually theory-heavy lecture at Gift Academy, where practical education typically predominated.

However, not only heavyweight first-years like Oknodie and Princess Massgakki, but also notable figures like Prince Hector, the Black Knight Morb, and Dark Mana’s Zaku all paid attention.

Apart from the two who knew the real reason to focus, the others were merely attempting to follow what those two were concentrating on.

At least the academic atmosphere was excellent.

Professor Stand Mill finished the lecture without a single practical exercise.

“Not really different from last week?”

“We reviewed for Oknodie and the new students.”

“Still boring when we don’t use our bodies.”

Morb also expressed doubts among the dissatisfied students.

“Oknodie, why are you taking this class?”

“Because there’s a skill I want to learn!”

“A skill…? Does this lecture eventually teach skills?”

“Well, there’s a limit to how many can learn it!”

Skill Monopoly Theory.

Why monopoly, of all things?

Morb had an ominous feeling.

It was the effect of his <Danger Detection> skill that had developed since he started Oknodie’s training and ended up wearing full armor with bikini armor on top.

This warning level was even stronger than when he had to wear the bikini armor.

Not as bad as his ordeal on the cruise ship, but too dangerous for a crisis within the academy!

“Is it okay if I keep taking this class?”

“It doesn’t matter! It’s not physically demanding.”

“Phew.”

“But remember this.”

“What?”

“The Administrative Department has gentle professors like Monk Myungho, but also landmine professors like Professor Platton!”

“!!!”

Oh no.

He had completely forgotten.

Professor Platton, infamous for his <Advanced Class Physical Enhancement> lecture, the most notorious of the first semester.

Even students not in the advanced class felt it when they saw advanced students barely making it to the lounge or dormitory after class, squeezing their trembling legs.

That professor must be insanely tough!

Even the Knight Department professors weren’t that extreme—it was natural to fear a professor who wrung out human strength like a wet towel.

Thinking he was essentially taking a class from such a terrifying professor made him feel fear he hadn’t had before.

…Is it really okay to take this?

“With that mindset, you’d be better off dropping the course.”

“Ugh. Aren’t you scared at all, Zaku?”

After hearing what Oknodie had told him, Zaku snorted.

“If it’s not physically demanding, it must be mentally challenging. When we talk about monopoly, there will be a struggle between those protecting resources and those trying to take them.”

“Oh.”

“Most likely, students who successfully monopolize a skill by applying what we learn in class, or maintain a monopoly for a long time, will earn points for midterms and finals.”

Morb honestly admired him.

“You’re really smart, aren’t you? Figuring all that out after just one lecture.”

“This is nothing. As that professor said…”

“?”

“…Never mind. Telling you would be pointless.”

“Come on, tell me.”

Despite Morb’s urging, Zaku kept his mouth shut.

The true top 1% with talent.

The top 10% who are evaluated as having talent in lower-class skills despite not actually having it.

The 1% belongs to beings like Oknodie.

The 10% belongs to beings like Morb.

He himself belongs to the remaining 90%, fitting nowhere.

Even if the state declares he has no talent, he can’t help but feel the gap between those with real talent and those without—he has a dull, talentless body.

But if even someone as dull as himself could rise to a position to monopolize a skill and make it his own, he could prevent those stronger than him from wielding a sword.

A lightning realization flashed through Zaku’s mind.

Isn’t that the true meaning of skill monopoly?

A method for the untalented to kill the talented.

No genius in the world can develop talent if they’re not even aware of it and have no opportunity to use it.

‘Surely the concept of sword training centers spread from the Empire to each kingdom.’

Starting as mere training centers, they evolve into full-fledged swordsman guilds once they begin producing promising swordsmen.

Swordsmen with strength far different from reckless adventurers.

Thus, the path of the swordsman is permitted only to the upper class who can afford expensive tuition.

‘What are the rulers of the Empire and kingdoms so afraid of that they strive to monopolize skills to this extent?’

Is it fear of top 1% geniuses like Oknodie?

Once your eyes open, you see a different landscape.

Then what is Gift Academy?

A sanctuary for talented children forcibly overcoming the educational barriers built by the Empire and kingdoms.

This is… virtually a den of heretics defying the monopoly of the Empire and kingdoms.

‘The Empire… the Academy… the Foundation…’

Zaku’s deepening thoughts were interrupted by a paper airplane hitting his head.

“Sorry, first-year! Could you pick that up and throw it back?”

Zaku picked up the airplane with a sense of regret.

Then he unfolded the paper airplane and signed the signature line with a writing instrument from his pocket.

“!?”

Valocassio, who had thrown the paper airplane, grinned.

“Finally caught one. A useful first-year slave.”