Surviving the Assassin Academy as a Genius Professor - Chapter 99

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 99
EP23 – Hand (9)

The maid Lucy sometimes thought to herself.

‘…….’

That she alone was sane at Zamryong Academy.
Everyone else had something wrong with them.

“Ahhhhh…!”
“Oooohhh.”

The scene was the Living Room. As Elise bounced about in a fit, Kendrick Drake convulsed right alongside her.
Normally Elise was the only one who’d lose herself like this. But now Kendrick Drake had joined in.

“Hahhh…!! Aahhng…!!”

Finding it amusing, Cain started making strange moaning sounds and laughing hysterically beside them.

Lucy the maid sighed.

Up to this point, fine—they were a dog, an idiot, and a lunatic anyway. But for some reason, even Valmond, who was usually so dignified, had started howling.

“Awooooo……!”

Really, why was he doing that?
This is driving me mad.

Yet Lucy understood the reason well enough.
With only two hours left until the Assassination Daily News results were announced, they’d all gathered at the Academy to see the outcome together.
A number that would determine their futures was about to appear. It would be strange if they weren’t excited.

“Ahhhhh…!”
“Oooohhhhh.”
“Hyaang! Aahhng!!”
“Awooooooooooo……!!”

But as this mad quartet wore on, Lucy’s own sanity began to slip away.

Perhaps from the pressure building up—blood began seeping through the layers of bandages wrapped around Valmond’s body.
At that, Grey, who had been sitting quietly until now, jumped in shock and smacked him on the head with a loud crack.

“Oof!”
“You lunatic…! Settle down…!”

The blow to his head snapped Valmond back to awareness.

“…What? Why was I making such a vulgar sound…?”

But the moment Elise and Kendrick Drake convulsed again, he let out another howl—’Awooo…!’
This had been going on for several minutes now. Lucy sighed again.
There was a problem.
It didn’t matter to her if they carried on like this, but the master of this house was home at the moment. And he disliked noise. She was merely a maid at the Academy, yet the master had chosen her, and she had a responsibility to set this disorder right.

“Listen, listen! You lot…!”

Lucy stepped forward and waved her hands back and forth.

“I get that everyone’s nervous because of the sales count announcement, but do you think we could all just… dial back the tension a little…!?”

As Grey said this, she pointed toward the second floor and made a throat-cutting gesture with her fingertips.
The cadets immediately clapped their hands over their mouths. Right. Of course. they seemed to say.

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh!!”

But not everyone got the message.

Smack!

“Quiet…!”

Even Kendrick Drake, who’d just taken a blow to the head from Grey, fell silent and slumped in dejection.

The person most directly concerned, Grey herself, seemed remarkably composed. Yet Lucy found it strange. Just last night, Grey had been so anxious she couldn’t sleep, and had called Lucy to her bed in the dead of night asking them to sleep together—how was she so calm now?

But perhaps it was already too late to wonder.
Footsteps began to sound from the staircase.

The cadets looked toward that direction with mounting dread.
They braced themselves for ‘that person’ to descend in fury.

And their instincts proved correct.
Rebecca appeared.

…….

Rebecca’s expression had gone rigid. Anyone could see the furrowed brow mixed with exasperation.
While everyone kept their mouths shut and read her mood carefully, the Princess swept her gaze across all of them and spoke, exhaling heavily.

“…You all look like vagrants.”

At that, Elise tilted her head in confusion.
Well, she practically was a vagrant, so it was fair.
She had only a single 5-Hika coin in her wallet.
Then Rebecca dropped a bombshell.

“The Assassination Daily News is sending a film crew soon for additional shooting, and no matter how casual the footage, there’s absolutely no way I’m receiving them while you all look like this.”

What?
Additional shooting?
Everyone’s eyes began darting about wildly.

“Go wash up at once. Tidy yourselves. Then come back out.”

It was Valmond who seized on this.

“…Everyone, did you hear that?”

Rebecca didn’t bother responding, only furrowing her brow—as if to say, why are you even asking such an obvious question?
Then she glanced over at the red-haired rooster-comb and pressed further.

“How many days have you been neglecting that one?”
“Two, two days….”
“Go wash him off at once.”
…….

At that, anger began to well up inside Valmond, for the king of the vagrants—looking right at him—had started to whimper ‘ugh…’ and eye him nervously.

‘Damn it all….’

Valmond Nibelung had begun to hate the entire universe.
But that was the duty he’d been given.
The moment he got up, Kendrick Drake bolted.

“Stop right there, you bastard!”
“Ugh—!”

And Rebecca’s words proved true. No sooner had everyone stumbled to their feet than an administrative aide from the Academic Department arrived and relayed exactly what she’d said.

“The camera crew’s arriving soon! They want to film Grey and Zamryong Academy checking the sales count! In thirty minutes…!”

At that, Zamryong Academy descended into chaos again. Even after everyone had washed up, the frenzy continued.

“This won’t do….”

In the midst of it all, Rebecca muttered something unintelligible, then stepped out onto the terrace and began chain-smoking cigarettes.

What about the person at the center of it all?
Lucy studied Grey once more.

……

While everyone else looked like they’d crawled through mud, Grey needed no washing. She was already clean. But the moment she heard the filming crew was coming, her fingers began to fidget. Lucy, who’d grown close to Grey, recognized it instantly—a telltale sign of Grey’s peculiar anxiety.

“Need any help?”
“No.”

Grey shook her head flatly, but then suddenly rose and went to the armrest at the corner of the sofa, pressed herself against the wall, and sat. After that, her fingers only fidgeted more intensely. It unsettled Lucy. There had to be something she could do, but she simply didn’t know what.

To Lucy’s mind, Grey was like that. There was a fundamental inconsistency to her life; her expressions and her heart often didn’t align. Every so often, her thoughts turned remarkably extreme. Yet Lucy also understood that it stemmed from Grey’s upbringing.

Once, when drunk, Grey had told her something.

The Habanero family needed a “chamberlain” to nurture those who carried their bloodline.
But she didn’t like that fact.
Not someone who’d exploit the Habanero family, nor someone with idle sentiment. There simply needed to exist someone who could offer warmth by merely sharing the same space.

– Isn’t that ridiculous? Our family has been searching for such a person for over a thousand years… and in all of history, not one person has ever tried to cherish us purely….

So she’d said she didn’t need such things and wouldn’t search for them in the future. That only fools unable to stand alone relied on anyone.

But, well. Lucy thought otherwise. In the end, no one could stand entirely alone, and Grey needed such a person.

So Grey had to search. Before that ink marking her body spread any further….

As these thoughts continued, a few minutes before the film crew arrived, Grey’s anxiety intensified. The growing fidgeting was proof of it.

……

At first it was just her right hand grasping and worrying at the index finger of her left, but later she tucked both hands under her armpits as though to calm herself.

Then her knees began to bounce, and her toes started twitching restlessly.
It was inevitable. She had every reason to be tense.
The entire future of Hiaka Academy hung upon a single sales count—Grey’s. Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of fates depended entirely on numbers that would appear before Grey’s eyes, resting solely on her shoulders. Such a national mission had fallen to a mere first-year cadet, a child.

……Mm… mm….

Then, as a whimpering sound began to echo from somewhere, Lucy’s frustration only deepened.
She’d offered to warm milk, fetch a butterfly cushion, anything soft and soothing, but Grey kept shaking her head. She didn’t need any of it.
What was she supposed to do?
Lucy was floundering in confusion when—

Knock, knock!

Someone rapped at the door.
Had the Assassination Daily News arrived already?
When Lucy opened it, she had to crane her neck quite far to look up.

“Oh… Professor.”

Tall frame. Emotionless gaze. Those pink eyes that always seemed to look down on people.
But ever since they’d returned from the Empire together, he didn’t seem quite so frightening anymore.
It was Dante, the senior professor.

“May I come in?”
“Yes, of course! Everyone, Professor Dante is here—!”

The Zamryong Academy students’ heads turned in unison.
At that moment, Grey’s toes might have tensed—or it could have been Lucy’s imagination.

* * *

The Living Room was, predictably, in a frenzy. Everyone had washed up, and there was an air of inexplicable bustle.

“Professor!”
“Mm.”

Elise came over and offered her palm for a high-five, which I awkwardly obliged, and then Kendrick also extended his hand… what was this. Anyway, I tapped it.
Amid all this, Valmond stared at me with an extraordinarily grave expression.
When I offered my hand, he clasped it respectfully with both of his, bowing at the waist.

“I’ll prepare a seat for you, sir.”
“…Hm?”

He was gesturing for me to take the center of the sofa. I couldn’t fathom why he was bringing a cushion and a blanket.

……

I shifted to the side. Grey was the main attraction today. But the person in question was wedged into a corner by the wall.

“What are you doing over there?”
“Huh…?”
“Come here.”
“Don’t want to…”
“Don’t want to? Too bad. You’re coming. I checked already—the recording crew just entered Zone 0 and they’ll be here in ten minutes. Are you planning to stay like that when they arrive?”
……

She crept down slowly. This was nothing like the first day, when she’d approached so boldly. Grey walked very carefully and took her place in the center of the sofa. Then she abruptly snatched the blanket beside me and pulled it completely over her head.

“Hey! That’s what I gave to the professor!”
……

From beneath her cocoon, a hand suddenly poked out, fumbling with the blanket before changing to show the middle finger.

【 Grey : ⊥ 】

“Ah, seriously. Can’t even take it back from her.”

Valmond grumbled for a moment, then suddenly began wringing his hands. “I’m terribly sorry, Professor. Would you perhaps like me to fetch a blanket for you?”

…Why go to such lengths?

In any case, the preparations to receive the film crew were complete. In that brief interval, the princess—who had drawn her eyeliner wings downward—descended into the living room.

Not long after, the crew from Assassination Daily News arrived, accompanied by an associate professor from Shaman’s Academic Department.

“Good day, cadets. Thank you for accommodating our rather urgent schedule. We’ll film quickly and be on our way.”
“We’re just capturing natural moments, so there’s no formal guide—just go about things as you normally would!”

Only two of them had come, each shouldering what looked like a cannon of a Recording Camera.
Yet a sudden tension settled over the academy.
We sat with the other cadets and turned on the Crystal Ball Television, tuning it to the Assassination Daily News channel on the streaming platform.

Ten minutes remained.
But it was such a crucial metric that all attention converged upon it.

I’d estimate roughly sixty percent of them were Hiakans.
Thirty percent were probably from Croitz.
While not quite at Grey’s level, Amulet had also gained considerable recognition.
If each of those viewers purchased just one copy, we’d be approaching the Academic Department’s target sales figures.

Allow me to explain briefly:
Among the wealthier imperial nobility, it’s become common to recommend Assassination Training as a form of cultural education for their children.
(Magic used to be the preference, but after it became known that assassins held a matchup advantage, enrollment in Assassination Training surged.)
They commemorate their children’s modest accomplishments—sampling S-Rank Dungeons and the like—by funneling large sums to Assassination Daily News and placing them as models.
Most fade into obscurity as weekly features, but when one occasionally lands a monthly slot, their families leap about in excitement among themselves.

By convention, even when families spend their own money to bulk-purchase thousands of copies to avoid standing out, it’s rare for sales to break ten thousand copies.
Is ten thousand copies so few?
No, it is not.
A debutante who reaches ten thousand copies gains prestige in society; if she achieves twenty thousand, half the young women at the next social gathering will imitate her fashion choices.
Conversely, a debutante whose issue sells only five thousand copies sits out the social season for months in shame.
Everyone here knows these thresholds. And yet, in light of all this, what is our target sales figure?
Eighty thousand copies.

Eighty thousand copies—within this entire hierarchy of metrics.
What I, Zamryong Academy, the Assassination Studies Department, and all the citizens of Hiaka are hoping for.
Eighty thousand copies.

Finally, three minutes.
Grey no longer wore the blanket in front of the Recording Camera. She’d draped it loosely around her shoulders instead, fidgeting with her toes.
From beside her, idle chatter continued—an attempt to distract from her mounting tension.
Elise and Quan spoke to her, and Grey replied to them as best she could.
Yet these remarks carried a forced, artificial quality, and each person speaking them was acutely aware of it.
The very recognition of shared nervousness only wound the tension tighter among them.

At last, less than a minute remained. The Recording Camera drew closer still. Wasn’t this absolutely nerve-wracking? someone asked. This time, no one answered. Everyone’s eyes remained fixed on the numbers, their breathing heavy and measured.
The Recording Camera showed no mercy. As Grey’s knees and toes fidgeted ceaselessly, it tilted its lens downward with deliberate subtlety. Whether she’d noticed or simply because she wore shorts, Grey pulled the Blanket down from her shoulders to cover her legs below the knee. Even so, the trembling continued beyond her control—the fabric above the Blanket quivered with shallow, stuttering movements.

Gradually, even breathing grew loud enough to grate. The Recording Camera carried with it a faint hum of Magical Power—that peculiar keening sound, like an ant’s breath. Something that normally went unheard was now unmistakably audible, and among it all, one breath stood out in sharp relief. It came from Grey’s small nose.

Her breathing was uneven. When her exhales caught somewhere in her throat, it became evident to anyone listening—this cat’s tension had reached its peak. What could I possibly say to reassure her? Should I have thought to bring something like a Clarity Pill? Yet when had I ever been such a thoughtful instructor? Such thoughts occupied me when—

Grey grasped my thumb.

It happened beneath the Blanket. I was inwardly startled and studied her face. We’d held hands a few times before, but this was different. The pressure in her grip was different.
I couldn’t understand what meaning lay in this clasping of hands. Then, suddenly, words came back to me—something Ran had once said.
The hands are rich with sensory nerves, and to hold hands is to sensation far too much of each other’s unfamiliarity all at once.
Therefore, the hand is where the body’s truth is laid bare, and to hold hands fundamentally requires mutual trust between two people.
Grey trusted me, and she wished to lean on that trust in the face of her anxiety. The small finger trembling against my thumb was asking for exactly that.
……But.
Was this hand-holding, as her instructor, the right thing to do? The thought suddenly occurred to me.
I wasn’t attaching any particular meaning to it. Rather, this contact ran counter to the common sense by which I’d lived.
Wasn’t she a student who approached and touched me at whim, without hesitation? As an instructor, I ought to correct such behavior.
So I did not respond to Grey’s hand.

The hand the cat had extended on her own, those fidgeting fingers—they received no response from me and soon withdrew carefully. The hand retreated. Her shoulders hunched inward. Her breathing was beginning to catch in her throat when—

At some point, I found myself reaching out. I followed that slender wrist to find the small hand. After the world’s briefest pursuit, I seized it. She tried to pull free as she opened her palm, but I held on. Even as she struggled, I held on. It simply felt like the thing to do.
Then, at some moment, I thought perhaps I’d gripped too tightly and began to ease the pressure. But it wouldn’t release.

The cat had interlaced her fingers with mine.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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