Wherever this novel is set, it's definitely somewhere close to the modern era.
You could even tell just by looking at the academy's architecture—it almost looked like a modern university campus.
St. Eliria.
Lucien Arkwright—or at least, that's what they would call him from now on—had initially assumed it was a religious institution.
But after skimming through the syllabus, nearly every subject leaned toward standard magical knowledge.
Ethics Studies, Mana Channeling Practicum, Spirit and Magical Entity Studies, and his own specialization…
Lucien Arkwright specialized in Psychology and Mental Development.
Impressive.
Lucien had already studied the basics, but the road ahead wouldn't be smooth.
Especially considering the people he would be facing …
He had, of course, heard about Class 1-F. The first thing you do when you're thrown into an unknown battlefield is study the terrain.
Lucien even brought the reports from the previous three homeroom professors of 1-F.
Julien Reinhardt. Namia Blackbleed. Doran Ianosa.
All three came from vastly different backgrounds, but there was a striking similarity: each one was dismissed exactly seven days after being appointed.
Right after the monthly evaluation.
And the reason cited? Incompetence.
Ridiculous.
Lucien had looked into each of them. Julien Reinhardt, for instance, had been named Teacher of the Month three consecutive times before he was assigned to Class 1-F.
Namia Blackbleed had nearly been elected as the current dean, losing by only a single vote.
Even Doran Ianosa was a highly esteemed researcher whose work had been recognized by the royal family itself.
Lucien saw through the lines.
They weren't dismissed for incompetence.
They were removed.
Maybe because they made a critical mistake. Maybe because they stood out too much.
Now, it was his turn.
The idea of being at odds with Celeste was already awkward—but being targeted by someone above her? That was dangerous.
The only question was whether Lucien would end up just another discarded name… or the one who laughed last.
Though, to be honest, 'laughing last' sounded a bit too dramatic.
He'd settle for being treated to drinks until he passed out if this all worked out.
[Class 1-F]
The label finally appeared. Finding it hadn't taken long, actually.
Given his suspicions, Lucien had expected the class to be shoved into some separate building, tucked away in a forgotten corner.
He tapped his keycard on the metal plate by the door. With a barely audible magnetic click, the door opened, revealing a clean wooden classroom, a metal board, and all students already in their seats.
No graffiti. No stale air. If anything… it was too quiet.
Lucien stepped inside, letting the door shut behind him. A few eyes flicked his way, but none of them said a word.
The sounds of pencils scratching paper and pages flipping filled the room.
He walked over to the teacher's desk, placed down his books, and pulled out the wooden chair.
Crack.
Lucien didn't even have time to react.
The chair gave out completely, sending him straight to the floor. His back hit the wooden surface with a dull thud.
It didn't hurt. But it was… startling.
A few seconds of silence.
Then a quiet voice spoke from the corner.
"Hm. That was faster than I expected."
Lucien looked up. A girl was standing—light brown hair, neatly worn uniform, and gray eyes that didn't blink.
She strolled forward with a slow, deliberate grace, like someone visiting a patient in a psychiatric ward.
Althea Crowne.
A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Did the chair break? Oh no. We were supposed to replace it last week."
"What a shame," murmured another student. "We were so busy preparing the welcome."
From above, a clear liquid dropped onto Lucien's shoulder.
He looked up. A half-empty plastic pouch was taped to the ceiling—clearly just started leaking. A faint sour smell drifted down.
Soft laughter followed. Not loud laughter, but a quiet ripple—like a room full of people smiling in sync.
Althea crouched before him. "Professor… do you think this is rude?"
Lucien didn't answer. His gaze stayed locked on hers—reading, studying.
"I hope not," Althea continued calmly. "Because this is nothing yet."
She stood up, dusted her uniform, and addressed the room. "Everyone, let's give our professor some time to freshen up. We do want this week's evaluation to go smoothly, don't we?"
Lucien rose slowly, still silent, still thinking. As he stood, the students returned to their seats like nothing had happened.
Class 1-F hadn't welcomed him with open hostility.
They'd welcomed him with a game.
And they all knew the rules—except him.
Or at least… that's what they thought.
"Impressive."
The giggles halted. A few students turned toward him, brows furrowed.
"I've read that Aibon Poison Concentrate is made from dog and pig feces. While it's mostly known for its stench that knocks people out, the fact it takes four days to brew makes it a bit inefficient."
Lucien's gaze locked on Althea Crowne, who was still smiling.
"I can see the effort you all put into welcoming me. Makes me feel a little guilty—my surprise isn't quite as elaborate."
Althea arched an eyebrow, almost amused. "Surprise?"
Lucien had hoped this world had something like projectors.
It did, in a way—through spells. Visual Projection magic, if he recalled correctly.
Magic wasn't something he'd mastered—not yet. So he relied on something he had brought from his past life.
"You were right to mention evaluations, Ms. Crowne. That makes the next part easier."
Thankfully, the academy's library had something like a printer, and he'd been allowed to use it—after five back-and-forth trips for 'academic purposes'.
Lucien pulled out the poster and held it wide for the class to see.
Althea let out a laugh—sharp and amused. "What's this? You ranked the prettiest girls in class before even meeting us? Oh, how unfortunate. First a thief, now we've got a predator for a teacher—"
"Prettiest girls?"
Lucien glanced at the poster again, nodding as if just realizing the confusion. "Ah, I think you misunderstood, Ms. Crowne. This isn't a beauty ranking.
"…It's the list of the lowest scorers in the last evaluation."
Only three photos were pinned on the sheet.
And Althea Crowne was ranked number one.