Chapter 13


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    <strong>HEL SCANS</strong>


    [Trantor – Zain]


    [Proofreader – Demon God]


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    The miniature city of Baektop, named after the “Hundred Towers” that adorned its premises, was most famously known as the Philleon Academy. The nickname originated from the literal presence of a hundredrge and small towers within the grounds, though there were actually 103 towers in total.


    “We lived in a doghouse,” Ronan mused, seemingly taken aback. He hadn’t noticed the true expanse when he hade looking for Varen. The sheer size was unimaginable.


    Marya remarked, “It reminds me of when I first arrived. It’s spacious, isn’t it?”


    “Damn, this isn’t just spacious. It’s like raising three dragons.”


    Ronan was astounded. He was sure there might even be entertainment or pleasure quarters hidden somewhere, albeit discrete ones, since it was a ce for students. He pointed towards the grand central castle within the premises.


    “Exams were held over there, right?”


    “Yeah, exactly. The Garion Main Hall.”


    The Garion Castle, thergest structure in Philleon, yed the role of the main hall. It was not only architecturally impressive but also strategically advantageous. The practical exams for martial arts were conducted there.


    “By the way…”


    “What?”


    “Your attire is extravagant. What’s with the fancy getup?”


    Ronan raised an eyebrow. Marya was wearing an outfit he had never seen her in before.


    The attire was sophisticated and elegant, befitting a noblewoman, and it wasn’t a stretch to believe she was from a high-ranking family.


    “You dress up like this for an exam that happens once a year? Not bad, though. People said cuties are pretty, and it holds true for you.”


    “That sniveling guy would call you elegant even if you wolfed down soup with your bare hands, so don’t mind him.”


    “Hmph, how about in your eyes?”


    Two short swords dangled from her hips, seemingly the ones she usually used. The scabbards were different from her usual ones, adorned with ornate patterns in gilded metal. Ronan broke the silence after a moment.


    “Well… not bad.”


    “Hehe, really?”


    Marya yfully tapped Ronan’s arm and started giggling. Herughter was so infectious that people around them couldn’t help but look over.


    A few secondster, herughter turned into a stifled gasp.


    “Hot!”


    “Did a bug fly into your mouth?”


    “Ouch, you be careful too. I almost forgot. Do you realize how many nobles are here?”


    “Nobles?”


    Marya exined that Philleon was currently hosting nobles from all over the continent. Their expressions were mostly sour due to the rule that restricted entry and exit of outsiders and carriages, excluding examinees. She covered her mouth again and coughed.


    “This could get quite interesting. I’d love to provoke them and start arguments, but it’s impossible since we don’t even know which country’s nobles they are.”


    “But what’s the connection between nobles and yourughter? Can’t youugh in front of them?”


    “It’s not that, but those could potentially be our main customers in the upper rankster. No point in showing off ourmoner side needlessly.”


    “Why does being amoner matter?”


    Marya raised her head and met Ronan’s gaze. At this point, he couldn’t tell if she was genuinely asking or if it was a sophisticated form of condescension. She sighed before continuing.


    “…Even among the well-behaved nobles, there are many who regardmoners like cockroaches. Traders who run businesses have to put on a show of deference and humility. The moment you underestimate them, the deal goes sour.”


    The main source of ie for Carabel was trading with nobles. With the management of their territory and the substantial assets they controlled, sessful deals could yield substantial profits. But to make deals with haughty nobles, one had to approach with a submissive demeanor.


    “However, it’s not just about bowing to arrogance. Many of these traders are doing this to outmaneuver pretentious nobles. That’s how you y the game of business.”


    The story of Carabel’s upper echelon revolved around transactions with nobles. As their holdings expanded and their wealth grew, securing sessful transactions could mean a fortune. Nheless, dealing with haughty nobles required a delicate bnce of humility and tact.


    “I’m going to earn my nobility one way or another. After graduating from Philleon, I’ll establish my reputation, be a noble, and make our father hold his head high again.”


    Marya’s voice trembled slightly. It wasn’t hard to imagine what she had gone through following Duon’s lead. She must have witnessed all sorts of humiliating scenes.


    Ronan leaned against the wall behind him and stated, “I understand. But I won’t be ying by their rules.”


    “Hey! Have you not heard anything until now? Just pay a little attention for today, please?”


    “Who cares? If anyone asks, I’ll just introduce myself as an uneducated servant.”


    Ronan chuckled in a somewhat coarse manner. Fortunately, they didn’t run into any nobles who took offense.


    They passed through a street adorned with polished cobblestones and entered the examination venue after a brief identity check.


    ****


    The waiting room resembled a corridor with rooms made along its length. Ten chairs were lined up against the long wall. On the opposite side of the entrance, a grand door with intricate patterns hung. It led to the examination room.


    Inside the waiting room, ten people were seated. The number always remained constant; whenever one person left, another entered. The candidates seated in a row were all revising the skills they had prepared.


    Then, the door opened, and a cheerful voice echoed through the room.


    “Next, please!”


    “Yes! Bilkerian Onbi de Hyern of the Hyern Family! I’ll do my best!”


    “You don’t have to mention your name or affiliation~”


    The practical exam took as little as three minutes and up to five minutes. A boy who had been waiting at the front walked confidently as he presented a token resembling an official’s identification. Magic seemed to be at work, as the interior of the door was invisible, and the door that admitted the person closed on its own.


    Ronan clicked his tongue.


    “Nimi~ It’s so long. How can that even be a name? It must be an incantation.”


    “Shh… Keep it down. My legs are already jelly…”


    “In such a dull ce, they should let people chat. Hey, don’t you think so?”


    “Yes… Yes?!”


    Ronan elbowed the boy seated on his left while speaking. Marya let out a quiet sigh. She had expected herself to act more refined in this setting, but she felt foolish for expecting that.


    She shifted her focus to rehearsing her own skills, muttering under her breath, “It’s okay… It’s okay… It’s okay…”


    At that moment, she noticed a boy seated right next to her on the right. He appeared to be around her age and exuded an air of nobility. She lightly tapped the boy’s shoulder.


    “Um… Don’t be too nervous.”


    “Eek! Yes? Oh, yes! My apologies, mdy! Was I being too noisy?”


    He seemed like he might burst if he got any tenser. He definitely looked like he was taking his first Philleon exam. Marya gave him a warm smile, despite the memories ofst year surfacing.


    “Haha, being too nervous won’t help you. Is this your first time applying?”


    “No, it’s myst. Uh… I really want to get in, but it seems Ick the talent as I’ve been failing every time.”


    Surprisingly, the boy was older than her. His remark about it being hisst attempt indicated that he was crossing the age limit for admission from next year onward. She encouraged him with a gentle smile.


    “Hehe, I’m sure it will go well this time. Stay positive.”


    “Th-thank you. You’re so kind. I’m Deirian Marquis de Mirodin, the third son of Marquis Mirrodin.”


    “Nice to meet you.”


    She used her middle name instead of her actual name. When Marya extended her hand for a handshake, Deirian quickly grabbed it with both hands and shook it fervently up and down.


    Seeing the almost princely attitude towards Marya, Ronan couldn’t help but feel disgusted.


    “Are you going to showcase your family’s swordsmanship?”


    “Yes, that’s right. This time… I’ve memorized it perfectly.”


    “I’m looking forward to it. Your sword looks quite impressive. Did you craft it at the Darn Forge?”


    “Ah! You recognized it… Your discernment is remarkable…!”


    Afterwards, the two continued to share various conversations. Whenever Marya praised Deirian, he would respond by praising her beauty and grace.


    ‘By the gods, She is a born merchant.’


    Marya appeared entirely different when interacting with nobles. It was hard to believe she was the same person who had mmed her head into a chair during their first encounter.


    Ronan pretended disinterest with feigned yawns or mumbled words, but his ears were wide open to them. Somewhat acrid yet oddly addictive, it was like the smell of navel lint.


    Suppressing his urge to cry out, Ronan listened to their conversation while Marya cheered on Deirian as it was his turn.


    Marya smiled brightly and spoke, “It’s your turn next, Lord Deirian. I wish you the best.”


    “Mdy Sen…”


    Deirian sniffled as if moved. He still held Marya’s hand tightly.


    Magic seemed to reach a point where it became enchanting. Ronan resisted the urge to p Marya on the back of her head, dering her a witch.


    Deirian spoke, “The honor is mine, Mdy Sen. If it wouldn’t be too impolite, may I inquire about your full name? I promise to bring up today’s exchange when I visit the Lady’s domain in the future.”


    Marya’s expression stiffened for a moment. Deirian seemed to mistake her for a noblewoman. Ronan perked up, interested in what Marya’s response would be.


    Would she y along with some made-up name to imitate nobility, or would she believe in Deirian’s values and tell the truth? Marya chose thetter.


    “I have no title. Just call me Sen.”


    “Pardon?”


    Deirian’s face was filled with confusion.


    “Uh, well… In that case… Are you… amoner?”


    His tone was akin to asking about the news of a spouse’s or parent’s death. Slowly, strength drained from Deirian’s grip on her hand.


    Marya slightly bit her lower lip, then gave a coquettish smile.


    “Yes.”


    “Ugh…”


    His grippletely loosened. Then, out of nowhere, Deirian pped Marya’s cheek.


    Smack!


    The sound of the p silenced the buzz of the waiting room for a moment.


    Ronan stood up, ready to intervene.


    “Stay back.”


    Marya whispered, her head slightly turned towards Ronan, assuring him with her expression. After a brief hesitation, Ronan sat down.


    It was obvious Marya signaled him, “It’s okay.”


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    <strong>HEL SCANS</strong>


    [Trantor – Zain]


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