#36
Still speaking in a commanding tone and forcibly handing over the water container, Noah took it reflexively and stared at him blankly.
Before he could say “Who are you to order me around?”, the student made a chin gesture silently commanding him to go fetch water. Noah turned around, holding the water container.
Judging by his height and build, he seemed to be an upper-grade student. Not wanting to create a scene by arguing here, Noah plodded toward the water tap.
There’s magic here, isn’t there? Raymond could easily make water flow from his hands. Plus, with so many students learning magic here and a Magic Tower, couldn’t they make something that would let them pull water out of thin air with a poof whenever needed?
As Noah walked to the water fountain, swinging the water container by its strap, more and more containers began to accumulate in his hands. This was because students called out to him as he passed by and thrust water containers at him just like the first student had done.
By the time he reached the water tap, Noah’s hands were holding six water containers divided between them.
What’s going on? Don’t the Knight Department students know who I am?
Or do they know and are deliberately making me run around to discipline me?
Is this normally what the youngest students do?
Rather than becoming popular for knowing James and Matthew, am I actually being bullied because I dare to be close to them?
As these various thoughts cluttered Noah’s mind while he opened the containers one by one to fill them with water, his small head kept tilting this way and that.
Information was necessary to live life comfortably. Those with more information won, which is why people didn’t hesitate to plant spies around their competitors.
Noah’s gaze, while filling the water, fell on the increasing number of students. He could see young students greeting older ones, as well as students naturally clustering with others of similar age.
After observing them while filling all six water containers, Noah stood in front of the water fountain, staring blankly at the training ground since he couldn’t remember everyone who had given him the containers.
How do I return these? Unlike the empty containers, carrying six containers full of water was a strain.
“If you’ve filled the water, you should bring it right away. This one’s for me, now go collect all the balls.”
His moment of contemplation was brief as someone quickly took all the water bottles from his hands. And just like that, Noah found himself picking up balls around the training ground.
As Noah picked up balls and placed them in a basket, he looked at the professor and students carrying on with their class nonchalantly.
I came here for class too. Where and what went wrong?
From the atmosphere, it seemed like they were playing a professional ball game divided into teams. I should be joining them so I could thoroughly bomb whichever team I join… Noah’s ball-collecting gradually slowed down.
Growing anxious, Noah stood like a meerkat, holding the basket’s strap with one hand and a ball with the other, watching the clustered students.
By the way, where did James go again? Although James was bigger than his peers, with students about to graduate mixed in, his distinctive sky-blue hair wasn’t clearly visible.
Unable to decide whether to go reveal his identity and join the class now, or continue collecting all the scattered balls as ordered, Noah saw the gathered students dispersing and released the end of the ball basket he was holding.
“Hey. You.”
“Hey! If someone calls you, you should answer!”
Noah, who was about to put the ball in his hand into the basket, looked up at the consecutive calls. After looking around and pointing at himself with his index finger, he could clearly see the furrowed brow of the male student standing in front of him.
Seeing him standing there with an attitude, flicking his fingertips in dissatisfaction for some reason, Noah’s lips pouted up and down. What’s with everyone today? I was raised as someone precious, you know?
“Throw me a ball.”
First a water shuttle, then a ball boy. And if that wasn’t enough, now he wants me to throw him a ball.
Noah looked at the ball still in his hand. Could he throw it that far? It was lighter than the balls he played with at home, but he’d never thrown this far before, so Noah casually rotated his shoulders a few times.
It might fall halfway, but since you asked me to throw it, I will.
After loosening his shoulders and arms, Noah threw the ball with all his might.
THWACK—!
As the ball left his hand, Noah spun around from the recoil and fell to the ground with a thud. Hearing an unexpected sound, he slowly raised his head.
The student who had been standing arrogantly in front of him was now lying on the ground, with the ball rolling beside him.
Wow! I successfully threw the ball from here to there.
But why are you lying there?
“Noah?”
As Noah hesitantly approached the student suddenly lying on the ground, he looked up at the familiar voice. Through the many students, sky-blue hair was faintly visible.
Oh! It’s James.
Quickly confirm that I’m a Knight Department student too. Then I can join either team and show off my disastrous skills.
But why isn’t the guy lying down getting up?
A little later…
“It’s you again.”
Noah was sitting in the middle of the three-person sofa where he always sat. And as expected, a deep sigh escaped from the Dean’s lips as he stroked his long beard. By now, the Dean’s office felt quite familiar.
Some say they can’t properly see the Dean’s face even once during their entire time at the Academy except at official events. To Noah now, the Dean seemed like a benevolent grandfather, and the owl dozing in the cage on one side looked incredibly cute. He had also learned that the middle seat of this sofa was more comfortable and cozy than the left seat closer to the Dean.
This isn’t what I wanted to know.
The ball he had thrown with all his might, thinking it might fall short, had unfortunately struck that student’s head hard.
Noah had fallen over staggering at the same time he threw the ball, so he hadn’t seen the student get hit, but since many students at the training ground said the same thing, their words must be true.
The student who had fainted after being hit by the ball was explained to be the eldest son of the Duke of the South, causing Noah’s head to tilt slightly to the side.
Why are you suddenly telling me this? If his father is the Duke of the South, my father is the Grand Duke of the North. Well, you mentioned that a famous merchant boss is related to that family by blood, but if we’re talking about that kind of thing, I’m close with the Emperor, and the First Prince follows me around saying he likes me. Oh! I’m also close with the son of one of the world’s top three merchant groups! Plus, I’m on good terms with the future Imperial Tower Master.
Wouldn’t my background be better? I don’t want to cling to school connections, regional ties, or blood relations, but if the other party comes at me like that, I don’t think I need to hide it either.
“I’d like to cover this up at my level, but it could get bigger if we’re not careful, so let’s hear your side of the story first.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Is it true that you threw the ball?”
“Yes.”
“But why were you there in the first place?”
Noah slowly laid out what had just happened while watching his palm lines change as he clenched and unclenched his fist.
He had been on his way to the class that all Knight Department students could participate in when seniors told him to fetch water, so he did. They told him to collect balls, so he did that too. And they told him to throw a ball, so he threw it.
But how was it his fault that the ball he threw happened to hit that guy and knock him down?
In the end, he had only done what he was told to do. Why was a Knight Department student so slow? If he saw something flying toward him, he should have caught it or dodged it. Why did he stupidly stand there and get hit?
Does it make sense for a twelve-year-old to get knocked down by a ball thrown by a seven-year-old?
At first, everyone thought the fallen student was just playing a prank. But when one side of his forehead turned red and he didn’t wake up even when shaken, that’s when the trouble started.
“Your clothes…”
“Pardon?”
When the Dean interrupted his story to point at his clothes, Noah alternately looked at his loose black pants and his plain cream-colored top without any embroidery or patterns.
What’s wrong with these? Before transmigrating, the Noah he knew preferred jeans with hoodies, or sweatpants with cotton t-shirts. What could be more comfortable than what he was wearing?
“It seems like those clothes were the problem, but you didn’t do it on purpose… Hmm, you may go now.”
As expected, the Dean, who had been contemplating while stroking his long beard, came to a conclusion, and Noah let out a long sigh as he left the Dean’s office.
The social class system is the problem. Everything that happened at the training ground today occurred because of the social class system.
There were many children in the Academy who, like him, wore comfortable black pants with white-colored tops. And Noah hadn’t thought deeply about that. He just assumed they dressed that way because it was comfortable.
In fact, most nobles entering the Academy were accompanied by servants to attend to them. In some cases, like Noah, they had nannies, but once they were over 10 years old, it was common to be accompanied by peers of similar age or those just a few years older or younger whom they could comfortably order around.
And the clothes those servants wore were similar to what Noah was currently wearing.
That’s why they casually assigned him chores like fetching water or picking up balls as he walked around the training ground, and other students who saw this didn’t think anything of it because they were used to giving such tasks to servants.
After the student collapsed and if James hadn’t immediately recognized and spoken up for him, Noah would have been in a situation where he needed to prove he was a student of the Academy first.
“Sigh, nothing’s ever easy.”
Once again failing to achieve what he wanted, Noah was now stuck with the nickname “One Shot, One Kill.”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
