Chapter 15 - Princess Maker (1)
["A man of integrity and high moral character. Just who is Lian, the new professor of the Imperial Academy?"]
The article trembled in my hands as I held it, trying to comprehend the absurdity of it all.
["When I arrived at the Academy for an interview, I was taken aback by the sharp, unwelcoming attitude of the new professor.
Ordinarily, one might try to leave a good impression, offering a warm welcome. But this professor threw insults, practically tossing me out.
Like anyone, I was offended. Truth be told, I felt so slighted that I resolved to document his rude behavior in detail, exposing it to the public.
What prevented me from making that regrettable decision was a student named Karen.
She recounted the professor's heroic deeds—how he quickly responded to a surprise attack during the entrance ceremony and risked his life to shield a student.
As she told the story, I couldn't help but feel a spark of admiration.
Up to that point, I'd only focused on his ungracious attitude. But had I considered why he acted that way?
The professor, known for his dedication to his students, likely felt he'd been forced to choose between meeting me and keeping his promise to them.
When I looked at it that way, the situation made sense. Anyone else might have been polite, but his reaction only underscored his devotion.
If not for my conversation with that student, I might have written an article criticizing his arrogance, potentially tarnishing his career.
But this professor doesn't care for flattery. He acts according to his principles without regard for public opinion.
He cares little for how others see him. He simply does what he believes is right, holding to his ideals.
In the Empire, many claim to live with integrity. But how many can look to the heavens and say they're free of guilt?
Few can live unshackled by others' opinions, pursuing their convictions with unwavering dedication.
I would stake my career on this: Lian is a man destined to elevate our Empire to greatness. He is truly blessed by the gods themselves."
—Cromwell Edelvelt, Imperial Monthly]
After berating and throwing salt at that journalist to drive him away, only to see this written in response—at this point, calling it an article was inaccurate; this was pure fiction.
Yet unfortunately, the article came from a reputable publication, a near equivalent of Time magazine back on Earth.
Cromwell even added proofs to refute any suspicions that he'd been bribed to write in my favor. He included quotes from top-ranking officials like the Imperial Archduke and the great Founder herself, both saying they found me an exceptional talent.
I indeed resolved both incidents at the Academy—the demon's infiltration and the attack at the ceremony. Yet, these incidents had involved Academy security failures, so my deeds hadn't gained public recognition.
Now, thanks to those events and this article, my reputation was spreading throughout the Empire.
"Just great," I muttered.
A little fame would be fine if it didn't put me in mortal danger. Now branded as the Imperial Academy's prodigy professor, the more my reputation soared, the harder my escape became. This attention was a noose tightening around my neck.
Next time Cromwell came around, I'd do more than throw salt. I'd make him write a scathing article of 5,800 words condemning me. Grumbling, I crumpled up the cursed paper and tossed it in the trash, watching it arc into the bin.
"This is when I need to focus on the positives."
I'd lost much, but I'd gained a few things too. I had to regroup and strategize. Digging in my pocket, I pulled out a crystal ball.
The "Advisor's Crystal." This gift came from Headmistress Karin as a thank-you. It was supposedly her most valuable artifact.
Its effect was simple but powerful. It provided the best possible advice to achieve a desired future.
"In a way, it's like peeking at the answer sheet."
If fate intended to toy with my plans to be fired, I'd counter it with every trick I could find.
Resolving myself, I placed my hand on the orb, watching it dissolve and form a cloud of letters.
["The Imperial Family is destined for ruin. If you desire a peaceful life, avoid entanglements with the royals."]
The message was as ambiguous as it was unnerving.
Sure, having some knowledge of the future was helpful in theory, but this warning felt out of place. I needed to be fired, not be told to avoid royals.
This was supposed to be a guide to get me out of here, not a random fortune.
Just as I was contemplating this cryptic message, a knock sounded at my door. Before I could answer, the door opened.
There she stood—silver hair, dark eyes, and the prominent horns of the Dragon Founder herself, grinning as she made an announcement.
"Prepare yourself for an audience! The Emperor wishes to personally commend you."
…It was then I understood the message's true meaning.
Moderation is key. This was my conclusion as I rode the carriage to the Imperial Palace.
"There's nothing to gain by making a scene."
I'd thrown salt at that journalist, sure, but I couldn't risk any such defiance with the Emperor.
Blend in, behave normally. Today, my usual antics could take a rest.
If I told the Emperor, "My accomplishments were all luck. I don't deserve praise—I should be dismissed," he'd likely commend me for my humility, making it even harder to get fired.
I'd simply offer moderate gratitude, feign joy, bow out politely, and fade from memory. That was my best option.
With my plan clear, I prepared myself for the audience.
Meeting the Emperor involved a lengthy list of procedures, but I didn't need to worry. Palace attendants took care of everything.
They bathed me, dressed me in formal robes, and even adorned me. Sitting on a plush sofa, I waited until an attendant finally called my name.
As I walked down the palace's grand hallway, I caught sight of the immense golden doors and the throne beyond.
I'd just listen, thank him, and leave when the time was right. Today, I'd behave impeccably, leaving no room for error.
This plan would work perfectly—there was no way it could go wrong.
"…It's been a while, hasn't it?"
The unexpected voice caught me off guard, and I found myself instinctively looking up.
As my gaze met the Emperor's, shock overwhelmed me. This wasn't awe or intimidation—it was an unsettling familiarity.
"Seems the position I recommended suits you well."
The mysterious man who had nonchalantly suggested this Academy post to me months ago was none other than the Emperor himself.