Chapter 13: The Ceremony and the Gaze

A Prince’s Regret

I stood before the mirror, adjusting my attire.

The large mirror, arranged by the academy at my request, was a bit too grand for the dorm, but “coincidentally,” my assigned roommate canceled their enrollment, leaving plenty of space.

My golden hair, neatly combed.

A crisp white uniform, perfectly pressed.

Ornate patterns adorned the fabric, embroidered with gold thread—elegant but not gaudy.

Golden tassels on my shoulders swayed slightly with each movement.

I draped a sash from my left shoulder across my chest to my right hip, retrieved from the nearby table.

The deep purple sash, reserved for imperial royalty, was the most striking accessory in this ceremonial outfit.

Carefully, so as not to disrupt the sash, I pinned medals to my left chest.

Most were earned subduing barbarian tribes in the far north.

Remnants of a boy who loved swordsmanship.

‘Back then, I didn’t even know what politics was.’

Before reaching twenty, that boy had felled barbarians many times his age, only to be pushed out of the succession race before it began.

My mother, a beauty from a border noble family, lacked influence.

My comrades from the military were loyal allies, but their status was too low to meddle in imperial affairs.

If only I’d built ties with powerful families in the capital.

No, if I’d been born ten years earlier.

If I’d had the chance to shine in the war against the kingdom, like Crown Prince Innocentius, would things be different?

Pointless hypotheticals.

Longing for what I can’t have is a foundation for self-destruction.

I must focus on what I can do now.

“Your Highness.”

One of my followers called from outside the door.

The fifth son of Count Carlo, was it?

He, too, has a tragic fate.

In peacetime, a non-heir child only fragments a family’s power.

A fifth son has no real role in his house.

He’s perfect for this academy.

“Gather the grain into the barn, but burn the chaff in unquenchable fire.”

A proverb often heard in temples.

This place, where the hollow shells of nobles gather, is nothing but an incinerator for chaff.

I’m included, of course.

Not bad.

If they’ve thrown me into the flames, I’ll gladly burn and take them with me.

“Let’s go.”

The Saintess’s Struggle

“…We offer the most precious of what we’ve gained. May the most valuable be savored by you…”
Phew.

Fck, it’s way too long.

Since hearing at the morning rehearsal that the ceremony would proceed without a script, I’ve been a mess.

Memorize one line, read it again.

Think I’ve got it, then read it wrong.

Orphe, sitting nearby, hasn’t even spoken to me, probably because I’m struggling so hard.

Or is he just naturally quiet?

Anyway, if I don’t memorize this damn long benediction and oath…

Wait.

Can’t I just wing it?

At the Pantheon, I’d grab key phrases and freestyle sermons.

No rule says I can’t do that here.

[The God of Justice says to stop with the tricks.]

How is using my full abilities a trick?

Understanding and leveraging my skills is the right attitude, isn’t it?

If you don’t like it, lift the polite-speech curse, heh.

Suddenly, a door on one side of the auditorium swung open.

Two burly men struggled to carry in a desk-like object and set it in a corner.

Small crystal orbs adorned its edges.

A staff member approached, tinkered with them, and they began projecting something into the air.

That’s…!

[On the 2nd of March, Year 1206 of the Francis Calendar, your humble servant Isidora humbly submits. Twenty-three years have passed since justice stood firm upon this land…]

Fck, it’s the benediction!

I rushed over in a panic.

The staff member operating the orbs looked startled but then smiled.

“Like it? We decided this morning in a staff meeting and prepared it quickly.”

The projected benediction and oath, written in the same elegant script as my parchment, glowed softly in yellow light.

The text was large enough for even those at the far end of the auditorium to read.

[The God of Entertainment asks if you like the gift.]

[The God of Justice suggests a high-five.]

You damn jerks!

Why bring this?!

I glared at the staff member, seething.

He scratched his head, looking sheepish.

“Your efforts to make such fine text visible to all are truly commendable. May faith and justice always stand firm within you.”
‘Are you an idiot? Want to see me crash and burn?!’

“Your kind words overwhelm me, Saintess. I’m honored to witness such splendid text, thanks to you. I’ll take my leave.”

I stared blankly at the spot he left.

Only the glowing text illuminated the space.

‘Fck, this… won’t even be visible from the stage!’

I’m screwed.

One wrong word, and I’m humiliated.

I bolted back to my seat, grabbing the parchment with the benediction and oath.

“…The rest be shared with the poor and sick, so that what remains for us is faith and justice…”

I started memorizing again.

No choice.

The thirty-minute memorization hero charges forward!

The Oath

“Next, the freshman representative’s oath.”

The announcer’s voice, amplified by the crystal orbs, echoed through the auditorium.

I stood behind the Saintess, beside the prince.

A natural triangular formation.

The prince nodded gently at me.

I had no choice but to nod back.

Ahead, the Saintess raised her right hand and began the oath.

“Oath. Isidora, representative of the 11th freshman class of 92, vows to abide by the academy’s rules during enrollment…”

What’s the point of an oath when the guy who’ll run rampant over the academy stands calmly beside her?

The scribe who wrote this probably can’t imagine the prince’s true nature.

“…Upholding our duties as students, dedicating ourselves to study and training…”

Children of powerful nobles, half-hostages.

After a few years, nobles started sending spare heirs they didn’t need.

Half-abandoned by their countries and families.

They’re lucky if they don’t cause trouble, let alone study or train.

The academy’s importance as an intelligence hub has grown, but most students here are like Xun Yu with an empty title—spare parts, useful if they achieve something, disposable if not.

“…We solemnly swear to uphold the honor of Inemis Academy.”

There’s no honor to uphold here.

This place was flawed from its inception.

A deterrent to keep both nations from pulling the trigger.

It later shines in the war against the demons, but only if I unite the academy and prepare desperately, like last time.

Individual students remain worthless.

I gazed at the Saintess ahead.

Her presence here is the real mystery.

A Saintess favored by all eight gods?

Her existence defies logic.

Even a Saintess favored by one god is rare, so the Pantheon’s carelessness—letting her get ambushed by bandits on the road—is baffling.

No wonder Prince Theodore is desperate to connect with her.

I’m more worried she doesn’t know her own value.

No, it doesn’t matter.

I know her worth, and that’s enough.

I must make her my ally for the final war.

“March 2, 1206. Freshman representative, Isidora.”

Erdike will understand.

Even if I didn’t choose her as my Saintess.

The Temple of Jealousy is powerful, but its abilities are limited.

Besides, isn’t Isidora also favored by the God of Jealousy?

Erdike will respect my choice.

That’s what childhood friends do—bicker but support each other’s critical decisions, understanding everything about one another.

Clap clap clap clap!

As the Saintess finished, applause erupted from the students behind.

I clapped quietly too.

To the Saintess of the eight gods, who entered the academy.

To the comrade who’ll face the brutal battles ahead.

A Piercing Gaze

‘Fck, my neck’s burning.’

The sixth sense is real.

Otherwise, I can’t explain this prickling on my nape.

One gaze felt particularly intense.

At first, I thought it was Orphe.

He was staring at me as I turned after the oath.

But even after leaving the stage and sitting in the freshman representatives’ section, the gaze didn’t stop.

Orphe was staring ahead, so it wasn’t him.

Nor was it the prince.

When I glanced at him, he gave his usual friendly smile.

It was gentle, not unsettling, and he soon looked forward like Orphe, ruling him out.

‘Then who the f*ck is staring so hard?’

Now the gaze was coming from straight ahead.

I’m used to people staring, but this was the first time it felt so intense.

Like murderous intent, sharp and hot.

I didn’t mess up, so why are they doing this?

Gods, know anything?

[The God of Jealousy declares no comment.]

If it’s no comment, just shut up. Why ramble and piss me off?

“Haa…”

I endured the fierce gaze until the ceremony’s end.

Isidora, depressed.

I need to hit the bathhouse with Fifirel for some naked bonding.

Facing those massive breasts will erase this creepy gaze from my memory.

“…With that, the entrance ceremony concludes. Freshmen, please exit in order.”

The long ceremony was over.

I clapped with gratitude and relief.

Finally free from that gaze.