“The spear technique of Bliss is not something that can be handled with just three fingers. You were fortunate.”
Was he reserving judgment until now? My appetite suddenly disappeared, and I put down the spoon I was holding. If my fingers hadn’t reattached, I would have been screwed. I wouldn’t have been kicked out, but I would have become a successor in name only. I thought he’d be more lenient with his own blood relative, but the old man is quite fastidious. Damn.
As I expected, the old man immediately ordered that my education be prioritized. I wondered if I would have to follow him to the Margraviate of Bliss, but since I was still insufficient to bear the Bliss name, my education and residence would remain here at the old man’s villa.
The old man taught me the basic forms of the spear technique passed down only to direct descendants of Bliss and fundamental swordsmanship for a month at the villa before returning to Bliss.
When the old man was absent, Raul Mist, the husband of Esther Bliss who is my aunt, would serve as temporary regent. It seemed the old man couldn’t stay away from the margraviate for too long, even for a substitute.
Well, I’m not the only one he needs to look after. Despite his appearance, he’s a ruler of a margraviate that protects the empire.
So the schedule given to me is as follows: Wake up before sunrise, eat breakfast, then study etiquette, linguistics, and history, eat lunch, and then immediately do basic strength training, fundamentals of spear technique, and basics of swordsmanship. After dinner is free time.
Not knowing if this was a well-structured curriculum, I followed the schedule as directed for the first month. Five days of lessons a week, with the last two days for rest time.
Somehow feeling that study time was insufficient, I would review what I hadn’t mastered after dinner, or ask my tutor to recommend books I should read for cultural education.
The customs of this world are almost identical to what I knew. The architecture, clothing, food ingredients, and people’s appearances may be Western, but the etiquette and common sense are close to the modern era, and the grammar and vocabulary are just like South Korea. I suppose that’s why it was easy for me to adapt.
However, just because adaptation is easy doesn’t mean the schedule should be easy too, right? With this thought, I asked my tutor.
“Is it correct that I need to enter the Royal Academy in five years?”
“That’s right, young master.”
“We could add more classes.”
“I’ve heard that you already go to the library during your evening rest time and don’t come out. As befitting the successor to Bliss, you show great enthusiasm and are active in your studies. Proper rest helps the brain function better, so this amount of classes is appropriate for you, young master.”
The Academy is, as the name suggests, a school for nobles. Merchants or the working class don’t need to attend it to get by. But for royalty or nobility, it’s an essential gateway.
Not only is a Royal Academy diploma required to become a margrave or noble, but even the imperial royal family are all Royal graduates, so its prestige speaks for itself.
If the local academies in each country are secondary education for adolescents between 13 and 19 years old, the Royal Academy is the only higher education institution on the continent for young adults over 20.
It’s said that getting admitted through an entrance exam without coming from a local academy is more difficult than a camel passing through the eye of a needle.
The madman who attempted this near-impossible feat is my tutor.
I’m not sure if he’s a clever con artist good enough to fool our old man, or a passionate fool who believes everything can be achieved with grit and effort. Still, seeing how well his teachings sink in, he might be a genius instructor.
And now I’ve been having lunch with this genius tutor for a month. I told him he could decline meals if he wanted to leave right after work, but he was happy to save on lunch costs instead.
Well, our villa chef’s skills are extraordinary. The food is something you couldn’t buy elsewhere even if you wanted to.
Even now, as I taste the duck meat with crispy skin coated in a salty-sweet sauce, I ask if we shouldn’t increase the lecture hours, but the tutor praises me, saying I’m already keeping up well with the class content.
Pretending to agree, I cut into the bread pudding soaked in butter and milk with my spoon and put it in my mouth. The caramelized surface is crispy and sweet, but the hidden subtle cinnamon flavor prevents it from becoming cloying.
Indeed, delicious food is the best. The sweetness that melts without needing to chew makes even my mind feel languid.
No matter how I think about it, I don’t believe I’m learning well because I’m a Bliss. It seems more like the soul of a student who prepared for university entrance exams by studying on 4-6 hours of sleep each day for six years of middle and high school has entered me.
I took lectures in etiquette, linguistics, and history from a single tutor. The name of this talented instructor is Daibel Blanc. He’s a viscount from a frontier country but was introduced as a talent among talents who graduated second in his class from the Royal Academy last year.
Normally, he should have returned to his country and made a name for himself, but he said he chose tutoring for good pay instead of returning home.
“The situation in my homeland of Drozen is not good. The king has been bedridden for too long. The political struggle has deteriorated to the point where I’ve heard that one must be good at political maneuvering rather than relying on ability. It’s better to wait and earn money in the empire.”
He’s an honest person. By the way, I thought I’d heard the name of that country before, and it’s Drozen. That place is where the Demon King was born. It’s also the country that oppressed him when he was an illegitimate son before becoming the Demon King.
The original novel begins with “The small country of Drozen fell in just three days,” which stuck in my memory.
“Even if you don’t return to your homeland, someone of your talent could surely find a position in the empire.”
“Actually, that’s partly why I took this tutoring job. The Margrave promised that if I successfully help you pass the Royal Academy entrance exam five years from now, he would give me an administrative position in Bliss.”
The old man is impressive. He’s planning to send his only grandson to the academy while also recruiting a graduate who ranked second at the Royal Academy. I let out a small admiration and finished my meal.
After seeing the tutor off, I read “Imperial Chronicles – The Driving Force Behind Modern State Development Due to the Spread of Gunpowder Weapons” to aid digestion. Jerry, the butler who saw this, said something that might have been flattery or admiration, which made me laugh.
“Young master, you never rest.”
“No, I’m resting quite adequately while reading a book.”
“Usually, resting means reading a novel, taking a walk, or having a nap.”
No. You’ve just never seen a South Korean exam student. Moreover, I still think my schedule is insufficient.
Other noble heirs have received systematic education from their early teens by enrolling in local academies established in each country. Plus, they’ve been nobles since birth.
If I show my street thug origins at the Royal Academy, which is crawling with the continent’s notable talents and high noble heirs, I’m screwed. Damn, see how my old speech patterns come back when I’m tense.
In the side story, Zaher Bliss shares a dormitory room with the Demon King protégé.
I absolutely do not want to share a room with that damn human-distrusting min-maxer. So the only options are to either not enroll in the academy at all or to enroll in a completely different manner from the Zaher Bliss in the side story.
Considering the reason the old man is sponsoring me, the former is impossible. Then all I can do is the latter. Enroll in a form that the Zaher Bliss from the side story couldn’t even dream of.
Sharing a room with the Demon King… I know my personality. If he doesn’t kill me first, I’ll dispose of him like defusing a time bomb.
Damn it.
I grip the book with both hands and let out a deep sigh. My insides are rotting black. Should I really have to suppress my personality? Should I pretend to be crazy and dispose of him before the Demon King awakens?
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
