The reporters surrounded me, hurling nonsensical questions from every direction.
I'd pulled every ridiculous stunt I could think of, yet my dismissal seemed further out of reach than ever. I was starting to feel dizzy from the absurdity of it all. Still, I had one last desperate card to play to restore normalcy.
'Let's see… those brats weren't just skipping school—they were actually wandering around on some adventure? Along the way, they somehow managed to pull off crazy feats and boost my reputation in the process?'
Producing adventurers who conquered the unconquerable labyrinth.
Creating a Sword Master in just one hour.
Sure, my reputation had been inflated beyond recognition. That was undoubtedly dangerous, but no matter how high it soared, I could always bring it crashing back down.
It was time to show them my true, unimpressive self.
All I had to do was swing a sword once. With just that, I'd reveal my "true abilities," and every overblown evaluation would immediately return to reality.
Without hesitation, I grabbed a sword and prepared to demonstrate—
"W-wait! Please, Professor Lian, just hold on a moment!"
"Quick! Get these reporters out of here!"
The students immediately began shooing the reporters away.
Watching the bloodied and battered young knights manhandle and toss out the journalists, I stood there in stunned silence. Before I could react, the ever-serious Ciel cautiously approached me.
He seemed hesitant, as though wrestling with his words. Finally, he blurted out, "I'm sorry, Professor. While we've found a way to halt the progression of your condition… we couldn't figure out how to restore your body to its former state."
Apparently, I wouldn't be able to wield a sword the way I used to. If the enemy caught wind of that, they'd undoubtedly exploit my weakness and strike.
The protagonist was standing before me, earnestly urging me to keep this "secret" at all costs.
But all I could feel was pure bewilderment.
"What nonsense are you spouting? Thanks to that concoction you fed me, I'm not only pain-free but brimming with energy! I can wield a sword just fine, as always."
I wasn't terminally ill. I'd never been so weak that I couldn't even lift a wooden sword. And yet, here were my students, treating me like some dying patient.
To clear up their bizarre misunderstanding, I grabbed a sword once again.
I swung it with all my might—not just to prove my health but to make the performance as humiliating as possible, ensuring my reputation would plummet.
It was an upgraded version of my earlier "demonstration."
This time, I didn't just lose my grip on the sword. No, I intentionally swung it into my own foot, collapsing in a heap of exaggerated pain. Tears sprang to my eyes instantly, no acting required.
My reinforced strength seemed to have tripled, and the impact sent waves of genuine agony through my foot.
Sniffling, I cried crocodile tears in front of everyone, showcasing my utterly abysmal swordsmanship. Surely this would be enough to break their illusions about me.
But instead of laughter, what I heard was… sniffling?
The entire arena was awash in tears.
Muscle-bound young knights in filthy, bloodstained uniforms rushed forward to hug me tightly, sobbing as though they'd just watched the most tragic movie of their lives.
The same students who had blamed themselves for being unworthy now loudly wailed, "It's all our fault, Professor! We've failed you!"
Through their tears, they begged me, "Please don't cry, Professor! We'll make sure to turn you into a Sword Master again… no matter what it takes!"
By the time they left, I was alone, drenched in their tears and snot.
As I sat there in stunned silence, someone lightly poked my shoulder.
It was Chromwell Edelfeldt, the unyielding journalist I'd once tried to chase away with salt. The same lunatic who had somehow still written a glowing article about me.
This time, he'd used an invisibility cloak to sneak past the chaos, staring at me with an almost fanatical gleam in his eyes.
"Please, Professor," he begged, "just one interview. I swear to keep your secrets."
Faced with his unwavering enthusiasm, my vision began to blur. The room spun, and I felt the weight of impending doom pressing down on me.
"The Famed New Professor"
[The author of this article was in the midst of a creative drought.
No story, no subject could spark my interest—until now. The man responsible for both my despair and my inspiration stood before me once more.
I'll spare the details of his attempt to chase me out again; suffice it to say, I came prepared.
By threatening to interview his students instead, I managed to coerce the elusive professor into finally agreeing to speak.
His opening statement?
"I didn't do anything. It's all thanks to my talented students running wild."
This was the same man who had produced two Sword Masters in record time, trained adventurers to conquer an unconquerable labyrinth, and achieved the fabled Heart Sword technique.
Yet here he was, insisting he'd done absolutely nothing.
To prove his honesty, he even used a magical lie detector—typically reserved for interrogations. Every absurd claim he made glowed with a green light of truth.
His students had grown strong because of their own merits.
Their miraculous feats had nothing to do with him.
He had contributed nothing to their success.
It was baffling.
After much thought, I reached one conclusion:
This professor genuinely, wholeheartedly believed his students were capable of anything. To him, their achievements were only natural.
…And so, I came to realize there is a kind of foolishness worthy of admiration. This man was both the most foolish and the most noble educator I had ever met.]
I slammed the magazine shut.
My head throbbed. Reality was turning into the nightmare I'd always feared, and my every attempt to fix it only made things worse.
In desperation, I clung to one last, abandoned plan. A solution so drastic it had initially seemed too extreme.
Late that night, I made my way to the Academy's main building.
With my mastery of seals, I bypassed every layer of security until I reached my goal.
Standing before the Imperial Academy's treasury, I steeled myself.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," I muttered.
This wasn't my fault. It was the world that had driven me to such lengths.
…And so, I prepared to commit embezzlement.