Chapter 3 – Catching the Bread Thief (3)

Every early spring, as the new semester dawned, the southern town of Farencia swelled with an unprecedented influx of people.

This was the time when students and servants from noble houses across the land converged, leaving their homes for the academy.

The dirt roads beyond the city walls bore countless hoof prints. The commercial district and clothing shops teemed with bustling crowds.

Watching the streets and academy grounds grow ever more crowded with each passing day, Adela’s friend, Lina, breathed a sigh of relief. Had they not set out early, the chaos would have been overwhelming.

Today marked the first day of classes.

Some freshmen were still frantically unpacking their belongings in the dormitories, while others scurried about, trying to locate their assigned classrooms.

Lina, having completed her preparations well in advance, gazed at Adela, who remained seated on her bed, a vacant expression etched on her face.

Wow… She truly is a work of art.

Never in her wildest dreams had Lina imagined that she, a mere provincial noble, would share quarters with a scion of the illustrious Rochear family.

The Anti-Magic Lance, or the Flower of the North Sea.

While epithets for the Rochears were as numerous as stars in the sky, Lina found the latter more fitting, at least among the descriptions that sprang to mind.

Even with her hair tousled from sleep, Adela’s appearance was the epitome of elegance, making Lina question whether they truly wore the same academy uniform and cape.

It wasn’t just her striking beauty; Adela possessed a gentle, bubbly personality that was utterly captivating.

“Hey, Lina.”

“Hmm?”

“Wouldn’t it be better if bread vanished from the world?”

If only she didn’t occasionally utter such bizarre statements, she’d be perfect, Lina thought.

“What are you on about now?”

“Think about it. If the store sold pasta instead of bread, they wouldn’t ask me to steal it. Perhaps I should suggest it.”

“That’s nonsense. Come on, let’s go. We’ve only got thirty minutes left.”

Dragging the absurdly rambling Adela along, Lina headed for the classroom. Being late for their first class was simply not an option.

***

Farencia Academy’s curriculum spanned three years.

The first year focused on mastering the basics of Magic and swordsmanship, alongside liberal arts classes designed to cultivate a noble spirit.

Within the academy—a microcosm of society—differences in status and wealth became apparent from the moment of admission.

Scions of renowned families often spent their first year earning only the minimum required credits, focusing instead on social activities. For them, forging connections was paramount.

Conversely, those of lower rank, landless nobles, or those perpetually strapped for cash (contrary to popular belief about noble life) had to study relentlessly, fixating on their grades.

In times of dire financial need, some even resorted to part-time work in the city or pooled their meager resources to invest in trading companies.

In a classroom brimming with this diverse array of students, a lecture on ‘Fundamentals of Magic’ was underway.

Seated at the very front, her eyes never straying from the blackboard, was a young woman who clearly belonged to the latter group—Liv Greenwood.

“When discussing the primary resource required for Magic, we typically refer to Mana as the representative measure of magical energy. Among the various disciplines, White Magic, which you’ll encounter most frequently, manifests through a refined purification process of Mana.”

The professor’s lecture covered the foundational theory of magic—material familiar to any aspiring mage. Liv, having taken this course the previous year, knew the subject well.

“However, our world harbors another substance that stands in opposition to Mana. This is Karma, observed in trace amounts in the air, soil, and even within living beings.”

Every magician harbors two distinct energies within their body. Depending on the type of Magic they wield, they must carefully balance these forces.

Karma increased slightly with intentional acts of killing, causing some students still unfamiliar with Magic to visibly pale.

Seeking to assuage their concerns, the professor adopted a lighter tone.

“There’s no need for excessive worry. After all, both Karma and Mana serve as fuel for casting Magic.”

“But doesn’t that mean murderers can wield stronger Magic?” a student interjected.

“While not entirely incorrect, the increase is negligible. Consider this perspective: hunting demons, magical beasts, or monsters also increases one’s Karma. How do you suppose the kingdom’s elite Hooksclaw Knights attained such formidable strength?”

“By… hunting demons in Heljeb?”

“Precisely. There’s no reason for undue bias. In fact, many unique magics within Pennheim harness both Mana and Karma.”

The professor concluded with a caution against engaging in senseless killing to increase Karma. After all, accumulating Mana through diligent practice was just as challenging as gaining Karma.

As the lecture drew to a close, the professor announced the materials needed for the next class.

“Next week, we’ll conduct practical exercises to measure your Mana and Karma levels. The Lit-Vice test papers are available at the store. Be sure to bring them to class.”

“Lit-Vice?” a student queried.

“Yes. ‘Lit’ for light, ‘Vice’ for vice. They’re specially treated papers that detect the presence of malice. Normally white, they turn progressively redder with higher concentrations of Karma.”

“Oh no…!” came a worried exclamation.

“Fear not,” the professor chuckled. “Most of you will find your papers turning a bright yellow at most.”

As class disbanded, a group of male students huddled together, exchanging sly glances and hushed whispers.

Despite the professor’s explanation, Lit-Vice papers harbored a minor side effect: they absorbed fragments of the user’s memories. While typically revealing only fleeting moments, one could occasionally glimpse something far more… intriguing.

A bathing scene, perhaps. Or the act of changing clothes. Maybe even a moment of adolescent pleasure.

Given that humans spend a third of their lives in bed, even sleeping moments weren’t safe from prying eyes.

Liv passed by the group of boys, who were debating whose Lit-Vice paper would be most worth acquiring, and exited the classroom.

“Hey, Adela. Remember what I told you yesterday?”

“Y-yes…”

“Oh, and bring a Lit-Vice paper after the next class too. I’m curious to see just how grand the Rochear estate truly is, my lady.”

“A-about that…”

“What, got a problem!?”

“Ow, ow! Alright, alright! Stop hitting me!”

Pathetic, Liv thought, her assessment encompassing both figures in the hallway. The supposedly great noble who allowed herself to be bullied, and the aspiring knight who lorded over others, relying on the backing of another family—both were equally contemptible in her eyes.

The harsh sorting of the aristocratic hierarchy at the semester’s start often took dark turns, so Liv chose to overlook it.

How much do I have left?

Liv reached for her wallet, as light as a pebble. She should have just enough for the test paper.

Her scholarship couldn’t arrive soon enough, but the academy’s administration was notoriously sluggish.

With a soft sigh, she set off for the store, quickening her pace to beat the impending lunchtime rush.

***

“One sausage bread, please!”

“A Partagas Mild cigar. And a firestone, if you’ve got any.”

“Do you have any spare parchment?”

“What’s sold on the second floor?”

“Here’s the money, mister!”

Busy. Insanely busy.

With just me, the proprietor, manning this sprawling establishment, the lunchtime rush threatened to overwhelm. The throng of students mingling with their servants only added to the chaos.

The store’s meticulously detailed rules, so carefully outlined in the academy’s code of conduct, proved utterly useless in the face of the sheer volume of students during lunchtime. This was especially true in March, with the new semester in full swing.

“Here’s your order! Firestones are on the bottom left of the display! For cigar purchases, please note your debut salon and family name! Parchment’s over there by the study section. And no, the second floor is strictly off-limits!”

“Mister, the money—”

“I’m not a mister!!!”

“…”

“…”

A brief hush fell over the store. But within moments, the cacophony resumed.

Given the status of my clientele, I generally maintained a polite demeanor. Contrary to Kayno’s concerns, I rarely resorted to informal speech with the nobles. Such lapses were reserved for… special circumstances. Like catching someone in the act of theft.

“Did you know? In a small peninsula in a distant dimension, they have a unique method of counting age. Now, I may be a foreigner, but this is Pennheim, right? ‘When in Rome,’ as they say. So by that logic, I’m still only 28…”

“Whatever, just take the money. Sell lots, old man!”

Sigh. Why even bother?

It took an eternity for the crowd to thin. What sort of retirement was this, anyway?

As I sorted through the pile of coins on the counter, catching my breath, a figure suddenly materialized before me.

“One pack of Lit-Vice papers, please. And some bread.”

A calm, emotionless voice. Despite the lingering clamor, her words cut through with crystal clarity.

I recognized the voice immediately.

Greenwood. One of the few noble houses I could actually recall, aside from Rochear.

“What kind of bread would you prefer, Baroness Greenwood?”

“Yesterday’s leftovers, if you have any.”

Perhaps it was my truncated school experience before arriving in this world, or maybe witnessing too many lives snuffed out on the battlefield had shaped my preferences. But I had a particular soft spot for those who threw themselves wholeheartedly into their studies or their combat training.

Students ought to study. Delinquents—no, knights—should draw their swords without hesitation.

Even my former comrade, Wiblet, used to say that knights who fought for honor always deserved respect.

Come to think of it, I’d heard he’d received a first-class medal and a title, but I hadn’t heard from him since.

In any case, the noble students at Farencia Academy these days were far too soft.

Even in this era of peace, they seemed more interested in learning dances than magic, their minds filled with thoughts of pilfering bread from the store. The kingdom’s future looked bleak indeed.

In that light, the Greenwood family’s heir was a breath of fresh air.

Liv Labre de Greenwood. A second-year in the Magic department and quite the prodigy.

I’d heard she’d topped the entrance exams.

The fact that she was retaking the Fundamentals of Magic course spoke volumes about her dedication to her studies.

“Also, the academy’s code of conduct stipulates that all students, barring royalty, should be addressed without titles. Please refrain from using ‘Baroness.’”

“As you wish, Baroness.”

“…”

Moreover, her cheeks flushed adorably when addressed by her title, likely because she wasn’t raised in typical noble fashion.

Truth be told, all my previous observations were mere pretense.

Given that I interact with more students than any professor or magician at Farencia Academy, the real reason I remember someone is quite simple.

She’s breathtakingly beautiful.

Her raven hair, neatly parted into two braids, framed eyes of such deep obsidian that meeting her gaze felt almost sacrilegious.

Yet even more striking than her visible beauty was the figure barely concealed beneath her cape.

As she meticulously counted coins in her palm, her slender arms and the curve of her waist became apparent, rendering her modest chest inconsequential. The students queued behind her didn’t dare urge her to hurry; they simply stared, transfixed.

“I believe I’ve counted correctly. Would you mind verifying?”

“…”

“Sir?”

Her voice snapped me back to reality. The sting of being called “sir” barely registered.

“Ah, one moment. Here’s your bread, and the test papers… where did I put those…”

Feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of giving her day-old bread, I quickly packed a freshly delivered pizza bread instead.

As I reached for my gloves to handle the Lit-Vice papers—

Wait a moment.

A familiar figure caught my eye near the front of the store.

The bread thief I’d previously warned.

Adela cast a furtive glance towards the counter, then reached for the stale bread Liv had initially requested.

“Hey, lunch period’s almost over! Hurry up!”

“Huff… huff… Why is this academy so vast? Excuse me! Do you have any beverages?”

To compound matters, another wave of students flooded into the store.

“Here are your test papers! Do come again, Baroness!”

“What? Oh…”

I hastily thrust the items into her hands and vaulted over the counter.