Chapter 62
Withdrawal, What Nonsense
Three days later.
All the qualification assessments for the candidates from the twelve academies had concluded, but a problem arose.
Zero qualifiers from the Swordsmanship Department.
Not a single candidate had passed the evaluation by Examiner Derkedeon Lodwick.
The unprecedented result caused a commotion among the organizers of Ksephon. If this continued, there would be no Swordsmanship Department in this year’s Ksephon, despite it being one of the departments that produced the most winners alongside the Magic Department.
“…Therefore, candidates who passed the tasks in the Swordsmanship Department are asked to come to the venue this afternoon. Another examiner will conduct a reevaluation.”
For the first time since Ksephon’s inception, a reevaluation was decided.
“That’s it. I want to meet with Instructor Lodwick.”
The same day, at noon.
Riche spoke to the guard steadfastly guarding the entrance to the venue.
The guard’s firm response was as unyielding as his tight lips.
“I’m sorry, but contestants cannot meet the instructors privately.”
“I know that. You’ve been saying the same thing for three days.”
“And you have been making the same request for three days.”
“Is it really impossible?”
“It is.”
[What an inflexible human.]
Python clicked his tongue, watching Riche struggle.
Riche then made a determined decision and asked another question.
“What if I’m not a contestant? Can I meet the instructor then?”
“…If you’re not participating in the tournament, you can. You won’t be able to enter the venue, but you can apply for a visit and meet him.”
“Really?”
Riche clenched her fist.
Due to the rule prohibiting personal meetings between contestants and examiners during the tournament, she couldn’t talk to Deon despite being in the same city.
[Just sneak in. If you stay in his room, you’ll meet him eventually.]
‘That won’t work.’
In fact, Riche had already used a perception manipulation ability once to slip past the guard and enter the venue.
The examiners stayed in accommodations within the venue.
But no matter how much she wandered, she couldn’t find Deon. Instead, she found a note on his desk.
I told you not to use that ability.
Even knowing she was in the venue, Deon didn’t meet her and avoided her.
‘So unfair.’
If the tournament rules prevented him from meeting her, he could at least send Philip to explain the situation.
‘If I formally apply for a visit, he’ll meet me. I need to hear what’s been going on.’
Winning the tournament, which the academy pinned its hopes on, was important.
But more important than that was her family, Deon.
She was deeply worried about Deon, who had been out of touch for weeks and then showed up here.
She was sure this wasn’t something Deon wanted. Deon wouldn’t have taken on the role of an examiner willingly.
What if someone was threatening him?
‘I can participate in Ksephon next year.’
Right now, finding out what was happening with Deon was her priority.
Riche firmly voiced her decision.
“Then I will withdraw…”
At that moment, someone placed a hand on the back of her head.
Familiar touch and feel. Riche turned her head quickly. Deon, looking at her with his calm red eyes, as if they had just parted this morning.
“Withdraw, what nonsense.”
“Brother! What are you doing here—”
“Already giving up? You’ve come this far; you might as well see it through.”
Deon spoke his piece and began walking towards the venue entrance, acknowledging the guard’s salute.
Was he just going to leave like that?
“Brother! Wait!”
Just as Riche was about to chase after him, Deon stopped briefly in front of the door and turned back.
“Hey, mutt.”
Normally, she would have told him to stop calling her that since she was all grown up. But now, she was just glad to see him acting like his usual self.
Riche looked at Deon, waiting for his next words.
“Don’t get hurt.”
“Brother…”
Even in this situation, he was worried about her.
What on earth had happened? Just as Riche was about to be moved by Deon’s warm encouragement, he spoke with a cold, warning tone.
“If you don’t want me to kill whoever hurts you.”
Shivers ran down Riche and the guard’s spines. He hadn’t changed. Her brother was still the same.
Though he talked like that, he had never actually killed anyone.
‘Seeing him act the same is a bit of a relief.’
Riche quickly shouted at Deon as he entered the venue.
“Is everything okay?!”
“Yeah.”
Deon casually waved his hand and entered the venue. Philip desperately called out to Riche, “Miss!” but their brief meeting ended with Deon’s abrupt door closing.
* * *
“Ugh.”
Philip sighed in frustration inside the closed door.
Finally, I was going to meet Miss Riche, but Lord Deon, the distinguished young lord of the family he serves, didn’t give me a chance.
Just how splendid he is, even now as a mere squire, he pays no attention to his own sorrows and continues on his way.
Philip hurriedly followed behind Deon and said,
“Young lord, isn’t this going too far? Not even allowing a greeting with Miss Riche.”
“……”
“……I tried to express my regret as if throwing a tantrum. Haha, sorry.”
The day Riche arrived in Crecellphone, Philip tried to run to her in tears, but Deon stopped him.
“If I can’t meet her, why are you going?”
Well, these days, with Deon’s mind all tangled up, it was understandable for him to say such things.
He’s stressed because his younger sister, who is going to a competition, is worried, and she’s even been assigned an exam proctor who doesn’t suit her personality.
“Back when you were student council president, you could meet Miss Riche as much as you wanted, so you must have been able to handle it.”
Deon taking on the student council presidency he hated so much this time was in a similar context.
The year before last, the vice-president at the time showed interest in Riche.
Riche was uncomfortable, and Deon couldn’t like the vice-president who seemed less detached.
“Der Kedion, did you hear? That kid… No, the vice-president is running for president this time.”
One day, Roben Haff brought information.
Roben Haff also found the vice-president who disturbed Riche to be very annoying. He spent every day wondering whether to freeze the vice-president or not.
“We can’t stand the president becoming like that.”
The vice-president, as an excuse for working on the dessert research team even now, went to Riche’s greenhouse.
Deon and Roben Haff ran for president and vice-president. Two capable students ran for student council president.
Deon and Roben Haff received overwhelming support from students and became student council president and vice-president, respectively.
It was only natural that the former vice-president did not hold a small spot on the student council list.
The student council, formed in this way, was praised by professors as the best-performing student council in history.
“I remember the Dercadion base.”
Philip remembered Deon’s student council.
The executive of the student council, who was scared in front of the scary student council president, just like a baby deer trembling, moved like a knight trained in a month.
It was the influence of Deon sitting at the top of the student council.
“Young master is like a sword. Moreover, he’s so blind to his ability that he has high standards for others. That’s what this case is about.”
How can there be not even one passing student?
Deon’s response was that everyone was worse than the first person.
In that case, you should have just let the first person through and added some minutes later.
In fact, since following Deon to Crecellphone, Philip’s heart has always been uneasy. Because he is a young master who doesn’t know where to turn,
‘Who’s fighting with whom.’
Uh-huh.
Deon stopped in his tracks. Philip, who had been following behind him, hurriedly halted his steps to avoid colliding with Deon.
It was close. Almost in danger of risking my life before worrying about anyone else’s.
“Young master? Why are you…” Philip’s words trailed off as he saw the man standing in front of Deon.
Morgan Dayle.
He was the student who had failed the assessment a few days ago. It seemed he had come into the hall to see the afternoon re-evaluation.
Two tall and imposing men, their appearances contrasting like day and night, facing each other—it was somehow overwhelming.
Perhaps it was due to the intense atmosphere emanating from one side.
‘Dercedion senpai.’
Gwynan, hiding his pleasure, smiled slightly. Morgan greeted the instructor respectfully and exchanged words.
“Instructor, I apologize for my rudeness last time.”
“Morgan Dayle.”
Morgan looked surprised to hear his name from Deon’s lips.
Considering Deon’s lack of interest in others, it was natural that he wouldn’t remember his name.
To such a Morgan, Deon sharply asked:
