Chapter 4 – Catching the Bread Thief (4)

Unique Magic (고유마도) encompasses a comprehensive system of spells, incantations, formations, and rituals that operate independently of the established White and Black Magic systems developed by the Seven Mage Towers.

Families that develop a Unique Magic system are granted at least a 3rd-class honor and elevated to the rank of Count or higher. Additionally, the head of such a family is bestowed an honorary title with the prefix “Duke” as a sign of respect and admiration.

Currently, Pennheim boasts five such Dukes. Among them, the Duke of Frost from the Rochear family stands out, renowned for her striking beauty and extraordinarily pure magical power. Even in the aftermath of the Great War, she remains in Heljeb alongside Viscount Wiblet, tirelessly working to eradicate the remnants of demon-kind—a endeavor that has earned her widespread admiration.

Curiously—or perhaps tragically—her younger sister, Adela Silvesta de Rochear, exhibited none of her elder sibling’s brilliance. Despite initial high expectations from some of the Mage Towers and academy professors who had never seen her in society, these hopes were quickly dashed. From the entrance exam onwards, it became painfully clear that Adela possessed not a shred of magical talent.

***

“Well, well. You actually brought it?”

“Yes! I didn’t get caught this time, hehe.”

It wasn’t merely her lack of magical aptitude that set her apart. Just look at that foolish grin, as if she were missing a vital cog in her mental machinery.

Ansen felt a surge of confidence; his life at the academy was about to become considerably easier, now that this naive girl had willingly walked into his social circle.

Her appearance, at least, was befitting of her station. The cold elegance typical of those from the North, coupled with that guileless smile, rendered her beauty nearly indescribable. Moreover, her naivety was such that even the slightest threat would bend her to his will without resistance. Ansen mused that manipulating her would be child’s play.

“Well done. Hand it over.”

“Here you go!”

One question lingered in Ansen’s mind: why had the Rochear family left her so woefully unattended? She had no retinue save for an aged butler—no knights or magicians to ensure her safety. Nobles of her rank typically resided in private villas or upscale hotels in Farencia rather than the dormitories, yet this wasn’t the case for Adela.

Perhaps the family is ashamed of her, Ansen thought. Rumors suggested she had never even set foot in high society, which spoke volumes about her standing within the family. A half-wit noble, unworthy of public presentation.

“So… does this mean I can attend the ball now?”

“Well, you see, the social circles in Farencia are dominated by the lord’s daughter. I’ll try to put in a word, but…”

What should I make her do next? Ansen pondered. Ah, that’s right. The magic competition against the second-years is coming up. If my patron were to lose, it would bring shame upon the entire house. Perhaps she could be persuaded to sabotage her own team…

“Hey.”

As Ansen indulged in his scheming, a figure approached from behind the school building.

A scruffy man with unkempt black hair, clad in a simple tunic and shorts.

“Where’d you get that bread?”

Dragging his worn-out slippers, it was none other than the store owner.

***

Why are these little shits using stolen goods for their pathetic romantic endeavors? Is this some new trend in the capital? Even if it were, theft remains a crime, for fuck’s sake.

Damn, they’re really taking the piss.

Technically, these were all nobles, while I was a mere commoner—or more precisely, a nearly untouchable entity with neither title nor verified identity.

The chasm between our social standings and wealth was astronomical. To them, a simple bread seller like myself probably ranked closer to a beaver than a human being.

I could empathize completely with the frustration of a beaver family whose carefully harvested logs had been requisitioned for dam construction. Meanwhile, the true culprit showed not a hint of remorse.

“Hey, what gives? Didn’t you say you weren’t caught?”

“Well… um…”

“Forget it. Hey, old man. Are you accusing her of theft? Got any proof?”

“What’s that in your hand, then?”

“Oh, this?”

Ansen casually dropped the bread and ground it beneath his heel, causing Adela to flinch visibly.

He nonchalantly kicked dirt over the crushed loaf, sneering at me all the while.

“I don’t see anything. What exactly are you on about?”

I stood there, utterly dumbfounded by the scene unfolding before me. While their reasoning eluded me entirely, one thing was crystal clear: they had absolutely no intention of admitting their guilt.

I strode past Ansen and approached Adela, who recoiled each time our eyes met. Reaching out, I deftly extracted another loaf of bread from her pocket.

Ansen’s jaw dropped; he clearly hadn’t anticipated this turn of events.

“Hold on, why did you… I explicitly told you to bring one…”

“I… I took one for myself…”

“One?”

With a firm tug at her collar, a veritable avalanche of bread tumbled out from within her clothes.

The girl had managed to pilfer every last loaf from the shelf in mere seconds.

“…”

“…”

“…”

An oppressive silence descended upon us.

At length, Ansen quietly removed his gloves and drew his sword with deliberate slowness.

“How dare you lay hands upon a noble of House Rochear and a student of the esteemed Pennheim Academy. As a knight, I cannot allow such an affront to go unchallenged.”

“Cut the bullshit. You stole the damn bread.”

“I hereby challenge you to a duel, to restore the honor of the nobility you have so grievously insulted.”

I deftly sidestepped the glove he hurled in my direction, but Ansen showed no signs of backing down. He even tossed a small sword in my direction, as if to preemptively silence any objections.

“Are you even aware of the rules governing duels within the academy?”

“Look, aren’t you lot freshmen? Why not just pay for the bread before I’m forced to report this to the student council?”

“In an academy duel, each participant is limited to the use of three spells. The contest concludes when one party admits defeat or sustains life-threatening injuries, as determined by an impartial arbiter. In this instance, Lady Adela shall serve as our arbiter.”

Damn, this guy’s fucking incorrigible. He just keeps spewing his self-serving nonsense.

If only all nobles were cut from the same cloth as Baroness Greenwood.

Adela, the catalyst for this entire debacle, busied herself with dusting off the fallen bread. As expected, she showed not the slightest inclination to intervene.

Is she seriously considering eating that?

“Tell me, commoner. Do you even possess the ability to wield Magic?”

Light gathered around Ansen’s blade. A sphere of water coalesced in his off-hand, while a protective barrier shimmered into existence around his form.

<White Magic: Light Attribute Enchantment – Holy Enchant>

<White Magic: Water Sphere Summon – Water Ball>

<White Magic: Low-Level Barrier – Shield>

Three spells manifested in rapid succession. While not flawless in execution, their speed of deployment was undeniably impressive. Brimming with confidence in his abilities, Ansen made no effort to conceal his smug grin.

“Feeling intimidated? I’ll even grant you the courtesy of striking first. But don’t entertain any notions of fleeing.”

Oh, how magnanimous of you. Armed with a longsword, he tosses me a mere dagger for self-defense, and still he prattles on. I clicked my tongue in irritation and reluctantly grasped the proffered weapon.

The familiar weight in my hand stirred long-dormant memories…

***

“Wiblet, is dueling truly as honorable as you claim?”

“Without question.”

“How so? I’ve never once felt that way while wielding a blade.”

Terra approached as I meticulously cleaned demonic ichor from my sword. Eris, exhausted from tending to the grievous wound on Terra’s back, had already succumbed to sleep nearby.

“A duel is fundamentally different from battling demons. It isn’t warfare. Your opponent isn’t an enemy, but an equal.”

“What’s the distinction?”

“It’s simple: respect for your adversary. The exchange isn’t merely about crossing blades, but about sharing one’s skills. To hold back or strike from behind would be the gravest of insults.”

“To an outsider, it might seem archaic,” Nova chimed in. “With the vast array of spells at our disposal, limiting oneself to just three seems utterly absurd.”

***

I see.

I took stock of my current condition. It was a far cry from my peak, that much was certain.

While I couldn’t claim mastery over Magic, neither was I entirely inept. My current limitations allowed for the simultaneous use of up to three magical techniques, two of which remained in constant effect.

One of these was the End of Magic—a spell that nullified any magical energy upon contact, as demonstrated when I had grasped Adela’s wrist.

The esteemed White Knight had once proclaimed that duels among nobles should be conducted with the utmost honor. To show restraint was to display the deepest disrespect.

I resolved to give my all, within the constraints of my current capabilities. The grip of the sword felt alien in my hand after so long.

“I am limited to the use of a single spell.”

“Oh? Is that so? How quaint, for a mere commoner. Very well, then. Come at me—I’ll be sure to correct that insolent tongue of yours.”

“You asked for this. I bear no responsibility should you come to harm.”

“Ha! Who do you think you’re—wait, what?”

<Unique Magic: Offering to the Black Sun – Eclipse Soliter>

Perish, you insufferable wretch.

It was a strike imbued with the collective vengeance of every wronged beaver in existence.

***

BOOM!

Where in the world did he vanish to?

Liv scanned the vicinity, searching for any sign of the now-absent store owner. The abrupt darkening of the sky gave her pause—perhaps a storm was brewing?—prompting her return indoors.

All that remained were throngs of students, impatiently awaiting their turn to make purchases. The distant rumbling was universally dismissed as yet another failed experiment.

“Um… Excuse me…”

Finding herself at the epicenter of countless inquiring gazes, Liv swallowed nervously before speaking.

The lunch period was rapidly drawing to a close.

She had specifically requested day-old bread, yet the loaf in her possession radiated warmth, clearly fresh from the oven.

“Are you ready to check out?”

A small gesture of reciprocity for his kindness.

Surely it wouldn’t be remiss to mind the store for just a moment?

A short while later, having meticulously organized the day’s earnings and affixed a “Closed” sign to the door, Liv made her way back to the dormitory.

She had sacrificed valuable study time for this unexpected detour. With an upcoming practical session looming on the horizon, she had wisely procured additional Lit-Vice test papers in preparation.

[Experiment: Relative Measurement of Mana and Karma Levels]

Spreading out the tome she had borrowed from the library, Liv extracted a bundle of test papers from her bag. She handled them with the utmost care, acutely aware of their sensitivity to physical contact.

That’s odd. Something’s amiss.

The bundle should have contained a full dozen sheets, yet only ten were present.

Had the proprietor miscounted? But the binding cord had been securely fastened from the outset…

Entertaining the possibility that she might have inadvertently dropped them, Liv thoroughly inspected her bag’s side pockets and base.

To her relief, she located the missing papers. However—

“What in the world?”

The two sheets were charred an ominous black, as though subjected to intense heat. They crumbled to ash at her very touch.