"Who is this, a bunch of fools from Cold Class?"
Grenouille Des Leviathans.
He is a skinny, tall, and somewhat hate male student of the Cold Class.
He comes from the extremely powerful House Leviathan, one of the Seven Great Houses of the Empire, and was also the runner-up student at this year's Hot Class.
He looked at Tudor and sneered.
"What are you so afraid of? You're so shaky, I can feel the vibrations all the way up here."
"You're crazy."
Tudor cut through Grenouille's sarcasm with familiarity.
But Grenouille didn't stop.
"Hoo-hoo-hoo. I overheard you discussing the Night Hound. If you're so cowardly, how can you claim to belong to the prestigious Colosseo Academy? You're pathetic."
"Well, he's seen the Night Hound himself."
Tudor said, pointing to Vikir.
Grenouille smiled wryly.
"His name is Vekir, and he's seen the Night Hound with his own eyes?"
"His name is Vikir."
"Are you showing off your memory by remembering the name of a lowly commoner?"
Grenouille looked at Vikir with a mixture of interest and disdain.
Then she shrugged and said.
"Whatever. Don't tremble too much at the Night Hound, my weak and pitiful comrades. It's said that the incompetent are cowardly, but it's still ugly to look at. If the Night Hound were to appear at the Academy, I will personally come to your aid and protect you, even you insignificant brats."
"What a fucking concept. Dude, we were saying the same thing until we saw the tragedy with our own eyes, but according to the newspaper reports, the Night Hound is at least an advanced Graduator. What makes you think you can handle a Graduator?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa – you believe those articles straight out of the paper, you naive bastards. Rumors are inflated. I don't think a coward who hides behind a mask would be in such lofty heights. ...And!"
Having finished speaking, Grenouille stirred his palm and slapped his companions behind him.
At that moment.
…Push!
A pale black mist began to envelop Grenouille's body.
It was the paralyzing poison.
The poison mixed with mana and sprayed out like a mist of water, causing Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy to jump back in fright.
"Grenouille, you lunatic! Are you trying to show off your skills in school?"
"It's just a little tease, just a little demonstration of my mighty skills."
In reality, Grenouille's poison, and the amount of it, was nothing to sneeze at.
A paralyzing poison that would leave you tingling and stiff for a few minutes if it touched you.
But the image of the Leviathan, an ultra-poisonous cancerous creature with a mastery of all kinds of poisons, makes everyone shrink back in horror.
...Only one. Except Vikir.
"...?"
At first, Vikir takes a step back, too.
What?
[Whoops-]
There was a being that sucked in the black mist spraying at Vikir.
The cub dangling like a watch from his left wrist saw the poisonous mist that Grenouille had sprayed and immediately began to breathe it in.
…Horrorock!
The poisonous fog disappeared in the blink of an eye, with no sense of being sucked in.
It was like a food fighter inhaling a chopstickful of ramen.
[kkeoeog – haeg – haeg -]
The cub devoured the weak paralyzing poison, letting out a small burp.
Then it sticks its tongue out again and hacks like it always does.
Thank goodness, Vikir thought, that he'd gotten some food for the cub this time.
'Grenouille? That means he's from House Leviathan, so he must have a lot of poison.'
Vikir began to watch Grenouille carefully.
Meanwhile.
Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy just stared, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
"What happened? Where's the poison Grenouille just sprayed?"
"It just suddenly disappeared."
"Ew, I'm so scared. Was it a fake?"
Even Grenouille was looking around a bit surprised.
"Huh? What happened, where did my poison go?"
"You sprinkled it, why are you surprised, aren't you a fool?"
Tudor sarcastically asks, and Grenouille gulps, then comes to his senses.
Grenouille retorted, stumbling slightly.
"You have just done this body a favor deeper than the abyss. I didn't want to waste my poison on a bunch of heartless fools with muscles up to your brains."
Then, Grenouille's cold, dark gaze turned to Vikir and Piggy.
"Apparently, you're a bunch of ragtag commoners who don't look like they're even in the lower ranks of Expert. I can see the level of Cold Class you're working for, and it's so boring it makes me want to die."
Currently, the Academy's freshman class averages between an Expert Lower Intermediate and an Expert Upper Intermediate, and the graduating class averages an Expert Upper Intermediate.
Despite being only 18 years old, two years younger than their classmates, Tudor, who was already at the advanced level of Expert, and Sancho, who was at the Intermediate level of Expert, were exceptional geniuses.
Piggy was in the Lower Expert class, and while he was quite talented outside of the academy, he was below average inside of it.
Then Tudor, the leader of the pack, stepped forward.
"Don't insult my friends, Grenouille."
"Hoo-hoo, you can tell a man's level by the friends he keeps. I can tell your level by the friends you hang out with."
Grenouille didn't back off despite Tudor's threats.
Behind him, Grenouille could hear his colleagues, the elite of the Hot Class, giggling.
"Don't you insult my academy with your lowly, inferior skills. Well, this midterm examination will prove it all."
"The midterm practical is just the first test you'll face, it's not meant to prove anything. It's just a record of how you're doing so that you can improve."
"Shut up, midterms are like murder to me. Take it seriously, so I can have the satisfaction of crushing you as you flounder with your shoddy, shallow talent."
Then.
"Hyung- what are you doing there?"
A voice called out to Vikir as he approached.
Sinclair.
A commoner, but the head of the Hot Class, she was coming this way.
As soon as she reached Vikir, Sinclair smiled and asked.
"Did you finish that book you borrowed from the library the other day?"
"You mean Raising Spiders?"
"Yeah. I've been reading some books about it. Want to discuss it later?"
"No thanks."
"Why? Weren't you studying them to use later in the practical monster strategy class?"
"No."
"Then why are you studying ahead of time? Let me know so I can ace the written exam."
Sinclair's eyes were filled with sincere eagerness and curiosity as she looked at Vikir.
Seeing this, Grenouille's expression twisted into a complex.
"Tsk, the only option for these insignificant commoner bastards is 'solidarity'. These pathetic people, whose only way to survive is to tangle with each other in crude grassroots… … ."
He stopped talking and called out to Sinclair.
"hey! Sin, sin, sin… … Claire! You're disgraceful about Hot Class and doing it all by yourself! Don't do that, come here! If it's handwritten, I'd rather tell you! Not as a favor to you by any means, but as a way of protecting the image of the Hot Class, because even though it's only temporary, you're still the head of the Hot Class, and if you hang out with the Cold Class bastards, it'll make the Hot Class look bad...!"
But Sinclair just blinks wide-eyed and shakes his head.
"Who are you?"
"What, you don't know me, you ignorant Sinclair! I am Grenouille Des Leviathans, the current Vice-Head of the Hot Class! The third son of House Leviathan, vice-head of the Academy's Hot Class, and future head of the student council! How can you not recognize me, a highly-accomplished nobleman, and a brilliant student, while remembering the name of that lowly commoner, Vikir or Vekir? If you're just pretending not to remember my name for fear of losing your position, I'd tell you to stop futilely resisting your coming fate!"
Then Sinclair said hesitantly, with a look of great embarrassment on her face.
"I, I don't know..."
"...."
"I'm sorry, I'll try to remember in the future, Kurukuru-ssi."
Then Grenouille looked shocked once again.
"...I can't believe it. How do you not know me?"
"Calm down, Grenouille. That girl is playing mind games on purpose."
"That's right, how could she not recognize you. This is what lowly commoners are...."
Grenouille's shoulders look poisonously slumped as his companions chuckle.
* * *
Meanwhile.
Out in the hallway, Vikir's group emerged near the main staircase.
"See ya then, bro."
Sinclair waves to Vikir, then heads for the library.
When it was just the four of them again, Tudor looked irritated.
"Ugh, Grenouille, that arrogant bastard. I'm going to kick your ass at midterms."
"You're right. Too bad they don't have a cadet-by-cadet dueling course for the first-year exams."
Sancho, who usually didn't join in the badmouthing of others, unusually agreed.
Just then, Piggy poked Vikir in the side.
"Vikir, what happened?"
"What."
"Sinclair."
"What."
"Sinclair."
"I mean, what."
Vikir's questioning look brought question marks to the heads of Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy, who were watching.
"You two were up to something?"
"Either that, or she's not interested in anyone else's business, so why would she be so hard on you."
"Exactly. I could see the honey dripping from the way she looked at you earlier."
But when his friends raised their suspicions, Vikir was adamant.
"There is no such thing."
His friends looked a little sour.
When Vikir denied the rumors of a romantic relationship or a relationship, the topic turned again to the story of the night hound.
It's a hot topic that's been swirling around the Imperial Capital these days, and my friends seem to be just as interested.
"The Night Hound is really scary, though."
"If he's a Graduator, he could easily join the Knights Order, so why is he a villain?"
"There's got to be a story, or he's just a real exhaust homicidal maniac."
Tudor, Sancho, and Piggy chat for a while.
Just then, Tudor tapped Vikir on the arm and said playfully.
"Hey, Vikir, aren't you the Night Hound?"
"...."
Vikir merely wiggles his eyebrows.
"Why would you think that?"
Tudor laughed at Vikir's serious question and said without thinking.
"Well, you were the only one who fell backwards on the way back to the dorm, so you're the only one without an alibi."
"...."
"Well. I mean, I did say that we all went back to our rooms and fell asleep when the guards asked for a statement... but weren't you actually in the laundry room at the time, washing your pants? Hahaha-"
"...."
"Huh? Meh, I'm sorry. I was just kidding, I didn't think you needed to be so embarrassed... I didn't realize you still cared about that, sorry."
Tudor laughed and then apologized for wanting to get sick.
Vikir smiled back.
Only then did Tudor laugh again.
"Oh, come on, man, why are you so red, you're scaring me! You're even scarier because you're so expressionless!"
"Tudor. You were bad. I'm sure the memory of that still scars Vikir."
"Right."
Sancho and Piggy reprimanded Tudor as well, and Tudor bowed his head to Vikir and apologized.
It is difficult for a man who is the eldest son of the high-ranking Don Quixote family to be this flawless.
Vikir laughed dryly, remembering the fairness, justice, and childlike innocence of Tudor before his regression.
But he had to make sure he had an excuse.
"I'm not the Night Hound, he's a Graduator-level monster, and I'm an inferior who can barely pass for an Expert."
"No, don't be ridiculous, I'm just kidding...."
Sancho and Tudor nodded in agreement.
"That's right. There's no way Vikir would be such a vicious villain."
"That's right, Vikir, let's improve our skills and take down such a villain ourselves!"
Finally, Vikir nodded in agreement.
"...Yes. Villains like the Night Hound will be punished one day."
It was a bone to pick with himself.
Just then.
"Euhum-Euhum!"
As soon as Vikir finished speaking, a loud coughing sound was heard from the stairs just above.
...?
Everyone looked up in surprise.
There was a familiar face staring back at them.
Student Council President of Colosseo Academy, head of the newspaper club, Ryukeion, and a member of the Faithful Quovadis.
It was Dolores.