Chapter 38: Scholar Class
Sevi walked Noemi to her dorm and watched her enter before he quickly turned on his heel and made his way back.
'Oh right..! Prince Carion's ID card,' He thought as he walked down the hallway.
He glanced down at his pocket, remembering the strange encounter with Prince Carion that morning.
'How could I have forgotten about this?' He thought, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the ID card.
The sleek, royal design caught the light as it slipped into his hand. It was the same card the prince had dropped when they collided in their dorm hallway earlier.
'I thought I'd run into him by now, so that I could return this,' Sevi mused, frustration creeping in.
'But here I am, still holding onto it,'
He glanced up and down the hallway, scanning the students who lingered in small groups, chatting and laughing as they prepared to head out. The usual buzz of evening activity filled the air, but there was no sign of the prince.
'Isn't the prince part of the scholar class? Might as well ask where their classes are conducted,'
His gaze shifted to a passing attendant in the hallway, an older man with a slightly graying beard who worked as one of the academic staff members. Sevi approached him, trying to keep his voice casual.
"Excuse me, sir. Do you know where the scholar class rooms are located?"
The staff member glanced at Sevi, his eyes thoughtful for a moment.
"Ah, the scholar classes," he said, nodding. "They're held in the academic wing, on the upper floors. You can find the main classroom for the scholars at the far end of the third floor."
Sevi thanked him and nodded, his heart picking up pace.
'The third floor,' he repeated in his mind.
'I need to get this ID card back to Prince Carion,' he thought,
'and once that's done, I can finally focus on the other matters at hand.'
He turned and made his way toward the stairs.
Reaching the third floor, Sevi followed the staff member's directions, heading to the far end of the hall where the scholar classroom was located. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, Sevi could see a few figures seated at desks.
'One... five... nine...' Sevi silently counted the students scattered among the desks.
'So few of them, huh.'
The students were arranged in a uniform manner, some lounging lazily as if the lessons were beneath them, while others scribbled notes in half-hearted concentration. At the front of the room, Sevi spotted Prince Carion.
The prince sat quietly, his posture upright but restrained. His gaze was fixed on the desk before him, his hands folded neatly as though he was doing his best to disappear into the background.
'Guess I'll wait for their class to end,'
Soon, prince Carion's class came to an end with the instructor's curt dismissal, leaving the students to pack up their belongings. The room was soon filled with the low hum of idle chatter and the occasional scrape of chairs against the floor.
As the other students moved toward the exit, a small group lingered near Carion's desk, their voices growing louder, tinged with mockery.
'...Hmmm..?' Sevi thought, still watching from the doorway.
"Honestly, why is he even here?" one of them scoffed, a girl with a haughty demeanor and perfectly styled hair. "This is the lowest class in the academy, but even this feels too good for someone like him."
"Right?" another chimed in, a boy leaning lazily against a desk.
"Prince Carion Everheart," one of them sneered, the name dripping with disdain. A girl with perfectly styled hair and a smug smirk leaned against a desk.
"Hard to believe you share the same bloodline as Prince Croh. He's everything you're not—charming, capable, and actually respected."
Another boy chuckled, his arms crossed. "And don't forget Princess Cressida. A prodigy, beautiful, and a true royal. Compared to her, Carion here's like a ghost of the Everheart name."
"More like a stain," the girl added causing the group to burst into laughter.
Sevi's fists clenched at his sides as he watched.
'So that's how they treat him?'
Prince Carion remained silent, his hands poised over his books as if he hadn't heard a word.
'Why wouldn't he fight back?'
The girl smirked, leaning closer to Carion. "Honestly, it's a miracle they let you into this academy at all. Must be some pity policy for neglected princes."
Sevi's jaw tightened. He stepped into the room, his footsteps deliberate and loud enough to draw their attention.
"Wow," Sevi said, his tone calm but cutting.
"You guys sure have a lot of time to waste."
The group turned to face him, their laughter faltering.
The boy who had been leaning against the desk straightened up, his brows knitting together. "And who are you supposed to be? His bodyguard?"
Sevi tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. "No, just someone who doesn't enjoy watching cowards gang up on someone who's minding their own business."
One of the boys was then the first to notice the embroidered insignia on Sevi's collar. His gaze sharpened, and his expression quickly shifted to one of unease.
"That mark..." the boy muttered, nudging the girl beside him.
She followed his line of sight, her expression shifting from smug amusement to a mixture of caution and disbelief.
"Swordsmanship class?" she whispered, her tone suddenly uncertain.
The realization spread through the group like a ripple.
The Swordsmanship Class wasn't just prestigious; it was the second-best class in the academy, surpassed only by the elite Magic Swordsman Class.
Unlike the Scholar Class, which was widely regarded as a place for underperformers and nobles with no other prospects, the Swordsmanship Class was a symbol of discipline and skill.
The girl earlier huffed, trying to recover her composure. "Please. We were just having a little fun. Besides, we are not the ones who don't belong here."
Sevi's eyes darkened, his tone sharpening. "If this is your idea of fun, it says a lot more about you than it does about him."
He nodded toward Prince Carion, who remained silent at his desk, his hands folded neatly.
The boy leaning against the desk sneered.
"What, you're defending him? He's an illegitimate prince, barely acknowledged by his own family."
"You think someone like him deserves to be here?"
Another chimed in, scoffing.
"Yeah, this is the Scholar Class—the lowest in the academy. Even then, he doesn't measure up. He's not like Prince Croh, who's practically a full blooded royalty, or Princess Cressida, a genius in every sense of the word."
Sevi's expression remained calm, but there was a sharp edge to his voice as he replied. "You talk a lot. If you're so proud of your place here, maybe you should remember who else is standing in this room."
The group exchanged confused glances, unsure of what he meant until Sevi's gaze hardened.
He raised his hand slightly, brushing back his sleeve to reveal the subtle insignia stitched near his cuff—a crest belonging to one of the highest-ranking noble families in the kingdom.
"The crest of House Bladesworth..." the girl whispered, her voice trembling as recognition dawned on her.
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