The public administration professor stepped up to the podium and lifted an object. It was a small box, the kind used for holding documents. Is that where the Tilon is kept? Adrian Heather, seated at his desk in the lecture hall, scrutinized the box.
“Well then…”
The professor gave the box a gentle shake, but since no sound came from it, it didn’t seem to contain jewels or coins.
“Shall we pass them out?”
Click. The professor undid the latch on the box. Through the opening, students could see tightly rolled pieces of small parchment. With a wave of the professor’s hand, the rolls of parchment floated into the air. They shot toward the students at high speed.
Each scroll hovered directly in front of a student’s face, almost as if begging to be unrolled. Instinctively, the students reached out and tapped the floating parchment.
“It doesn’t matter what prestigious house you come from in the Kingdom of Rustavaran, or how much gold you’ve got. None of that holds weight in this academy. Now, open the contract that’s floated to you.”
The students extended their hands toward the scrolls. The moment their fingers touched them, the parchment unfurled vertically with a swift snap, as if it had been eagerly waiting for their touch. The scrolls were filled with elegant script, and on closer inspection, the content turned out to be an explanation of Tilon’s policies.
“This is a contract acknowledging your awareness of Tilon, the academy’s currency. Once the contract is finalized, you’ll be able to use and receive Tilon from that point forward. Contracted individuals will be able to see this.”
The professor pointed to the space above his head. But there was nothing visible. As the students gave him puzzled looks, the professor chuckled.
“You’ll see it after you finalize the contract. Now, if you’ve heard everything you need to, breathe onto the bottom of the contract. Yes, just like that. Good.”
Adrian watched the students to either side of him obediently follow the professor’s instructions. With a resigned sigh, he brought his lips to the parchment in front of him.
At once, he felt the movement of mana. A warm breeze slowly curled around the contract. Eventually, the name “Adrian Heather” appeared, inscribed neatly at the bottom of the scroll. Ugh. Adrian scratched at his suddenly itchy hand, lifting it from beneath the table.
That was when it happened.
A blinding light surged into his vision—so bright it was almost unbearable—and then vanished in an instant. Reflexively squinting, Adrian opened his eyes wide again. Now, something new came into view within the sight of his gold dragon’s eye. Just above his head, in the exact spot the professor had pointed to, a small, glowing diamond-shaped emblem had appeared.
One by one, similar glowing marks began to form above the other students’ heads.
Like drifting sand, a soft breeze stirred by mana swept across the back of Adrian’s hand, the one he’d placed on the document. As it passed, a faint glow emerged: the emblem of Basamiel Academy—a set of wings—was now gently shimmering on his pale, unblemished skin.
A strange symbol had been engraved on the once smooth and spotless back of his hand.
“As a starting allowance, each of you has been granted 10 Tilon.”
The professor added that to check their balances, students only needed to breathe onto the back of their hand, just as they had during the contract. Then, he addressed the topic every student in the room was eager to hear about.
“You’re probably wondering how to earn Tilon, right? First, let me explain the values of this academy. At Basamiel, we strongly encourage first-year students to join social clubs. The academy’s purpose isn’t just to cram knowledge into your heads.”
Adrian stared down at the desk, unamused. Social clubs… While he didn’t find mingling with humans particularly difficult, it wasn’t something he was keen on doing.
“Join a social club and try earning Tilon through it. Budgets are distributed to the departments based on ratios set by the student council, and each club allocates Tilon to its members in line with the department’s specialty.”
At that, Adrian instantly lost all interest in earning Tilon. He hadn’t enrolled at the academy to make friends or network—he came here out of curiosity about herbs. He wasn’t here to play at friendship with a bunch of kids.
It seemed Mikhail felt the same. From diagonally across the lecture hall, Adrian could see Mikhail’s face clearly. He rested his chin on one hand, the very picture of apathy, idly flicking his quill back and forth. It was obvious he wasn’t listening to a word the public administration professor was saying.
“To encourage the use of Tilon, we award prizes to top earners each year. But let me emphasize something very important—there’s absolutely no need to desperately hoard as much Tilon as possible. You’re here to learn money management, not to get rich.”
Frankly, most of the students in this lecture hall weren’t commoners scraping by to survive. At the professor’s words, the students who had looked uneasy just moments ago relaxed, visibly reassured.
“That’s why all your Tilon will be reset to zero at the end of each year. Understood? There’s no need to hang on to large amounts.”
Adrian, who had no intention of participating anyway, leaned back comfortably against his desk and looked at the professor with a blank expression. He was likely one of the very few students in the lecture hall who had absolutely no interest in Tilon.
The freshmen, on the other hand, were curiously brushing their fingers over the symbol etched on the back of their hands, checking the 10 Tilon they had just received as their initial capital.
It was incredibly simple to check how much Tilon one possessed. All they had to do was breathe lightly on the emblem on their hand. Following the professor’s instructions, the students blew gently over their hands and then pulled them away from their faces to check.
A glowing number—“10 Tilon”—briefly appeared in the air before smoothly fading away.
10 Tilon… That was about enough to subscribe to the campus newspaper for a month. Adrian immediately lost interest and let his hand fall limply back onto the table.
***
The peculiar public administration class ended, and the freshmen were quickly filing out of the lecture hall.
“Oh? Looks like Basamiel’s peaceful first week is officially over, huh?”
What? The first student to exit came to a sudden halt. The hallway was packed with people. Judging by the color of their ties, they were upperclassmen. Having waited for the freshmen’s class to end, the seniors now stood up from where they had been lounging on the windowsills or leaning against the walls.
“Interested in an elixir that reduces sleep time?”
“…What?”
“Or maybe a map showing all the hidden hideouts on campus?”
Flustered, the freshmen began waving their hands in protest.
“Wait, what are you even talking about—”
“You can see this now, right?”
One of the seniors tapped a small, glowing orb that floated rhythmically above his head. It was proof of a contract. Now, identical orbs were slowly spinning above the heads of every freshman exiting the classroom.
Adrian lifted his hand and brushed over the emblem on the back. The magic embedded in the symbol felt far too refined and sophisticated to be wasted on something as trivial as a school system.
“There’s also a necklace that reacts to mana. Anyone interested?”
Some students were openly hawking goods,
“Any freshmen want to trade gold for Tilon? I’ll do 1 Tilon for every 100 gold.”
while others were clearly trying to scam the newcomers, banking on their ignorance of the current exchange rate. Of course, Adrian didn’t know the rate either. But… at the very least, he wasn’t the kind of fool who bought the first thing he saw at the market.
“…Me.”
One freshman had already started walking toward the scammer. It was obvious—kids born into wealthy families who had never known financial constraint couldn’t bear the feeling of having empty wallets. And the upperclassmen knew this all too well, which was exactly why these opportunistic sales pitches happened.
“You might want to rethink that.”
“Huh?”
The freshman turned at Adrian’s call. The student glanced at Adrian, who seemed to be trying to help, and gave a small, unconcerned smile.
“…Just gonna exchange a little, just in case.”
Then—
“What? 100 gold for 1 Tilon? Hey, then I’ll give it to you for 80 gold! Way cheaper.”
A male student with a blue tie grabbed the freshman’s shoulder, stealing the potential customer midway through the deal. At the sudden contact, the freshman flinched slightly, eyebrows furrowing.
“Hey, why don’t you go do your own thing instead of ruining mine?”
“You back off.”
“…Back off? You little—”
That was when it happened.
An arm abruptly thrust itself between the bickering upperclassmen. It belonged to a student wearing the academy’s knight training uniform.
“Hey—what’s going on here?”
Immediately, the two students froze.
“Huh? Something going on?”
The knight student approached with a casual gait and tapped each of their shoulders with a flat palm. The two who had been growling at each other locked eyes for a moment, then shook their heads.
“Nothing’s happening.”
The knight gave a sharp grin.
“That’s more like it. Unless you want to be fined for rule violations.”
The bickering students checked her uniform, then muttered, “…Seriously, it’s nothing,” before slinking away.
“Listen up, all of you. If anyone tries to trade gold for Tilon, report them immediately. Regular students aren’t allowed to exchange gold and Tilon. The only exception is when someone is graduating or leaving the academy, and the administrative department handles the conversion. Everything else is illegal. And yes—there’s a reward for reporting it.”
It was a well-worn trick that the students had just tried to pull. To prevent situations like this, she had been stationed outside the classroom specifically to intercept freshmen after their first public administration class.
“Got it?”
The knight trainee who had just diffused the chaos leaned against the hallway wall and addressed them.
“Just head quietly back to your dorms today. Don’t blow your Tilon on something stupid before you even understand how any of this works.”
The freshmen, their spirits thoroughly drained, nodded in unison.
Thus ended the peaceful first week at Basamiel.
From now on, what awaited them was the real Basamiel Academy.
