Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor

Chae Eun–woo was never a genius. Just a psychopath who would neglect his health over studying vigorously.

In any case, a route had opened up. A route he had no knowledge of. 

But regardless, there were several relevant pieces of information stored in the Spectacles' archives that he could use to ascertain the situation.

As he pondered on the case, it was a common bullying case that seemed to escalate due to this world's unusual norms.

That was the easy explanation. It fit within the comfortable narrative of social hierarchy, where the privileged used their power to oppress the powerless.

However, as Vanitas considered it more, the situation seemed less like a clear-cut case of systemic oppression and more like a complicated problem between teenagers.

At least, that was the outside perspective.

Though deep down, he knew it had a lot to do with the original Vanitas.

Intervention from an adult would be necessary, but Vanitas wasn't sure if his method would be the right one. 

He didn't know if stepping in was the solution. After all, his own experiences in life had taught him that the world didn't always offer easy answers.

Chae Eun–woo had been through indescribable hardships.

Times when no one had intervened to save him. He had learned to survive on his own, to carry his burdens in silence.

Because, in the first place, there really was no one there for him.

So when it came to others, he wasn't sure if interference would help. 

Would stopping the conflict solve the problem, or would it only create new ones?

What was truly the best way to help Cassandra?

In the end, he concluded that the teenagers' problems would have to stay with them.

He had learned that hard lesson through his own pain.

Sometimes, survival was simply about letting people make their own choices and live with the consequences.

It was painful, but it was real. 

And that reality wasn't something that could always change by stepping in.

But even as he held this belief, Cassandra, fully aware of Vanitas's reputation, still gathered the courage to ask for his help.

So, as the adult, Vanitas would handle the adult matters.

"So," Vanitas began, sitting back in his chair with his legs crossed. "Did you do what I asked?"

"....Yes, Sir." The man across from him nodded, adorning a pair of shades and a hat.

The two were seated in a quiet corner of a café.

The man was a long-time butler for the Wyndale Marquess family. 

He had served them for years, while ignoring how they treated their servants.

But everything changed the day his daughter, a maid in their household, had been harshly reprimanded by the young Lord, Desmond Wyndale.

In a fit of rage, Desmond had snapped at her, and in the ensuing confrontation, she lost a part of her vision. 

As a Father, it was without a question that he would be furious, but he had no power of his own.

Desmond was untouchable, and the Marquess family's power ran deep.

However, when he heard of Vanitas's visit to the Wyndale estate, something inside him shifted.

The butler had listened to the tone of Vanitas's words and the subtle implications of his threats.

The underlying message was clear.

Vanitas, this…. University Professor and a mere Viscount noble, harbored no fear against the Wyndale Marquess Family.

That was when the butler realized this was his chance. 

The Marquess family had been untouchable for too long.

He had to act.

And so, he approached Vanitas, knowing this might be his only opportunity.

"As per your request, I've brought the documents," the butler said, sliding the carefully collected papers and information across the table.

"Good."

Vanitas took them, and briefly scanned over the contents before looking up.

"But if you've had all this for years, why haven't you done anything with it until now?"

The butler paused, his hands clenched into fists for a moment before he spoke,

"What could I do against a Marquess?" he asked. "I have no power, nor any connections. If I were to blindly report this, someone corrupt would just cover it up, and the Marquess would find out sooner or later."

"....Right."

Just like in the game, where annoying aristocrats who were drunk on power had the officers—people commoners like the butler could approach—on their payroll.

The system was indeed corrupt. And the Imperial Family had no knowledge of it.

Or rather, it wasn't that they didn't know.

It was that everything was concealed from them by the Prince.

Franz Barielle Aetherion, the First in Line to the throne, and Astrid's older brother.

A high–difficulty boss in the later stages of the game.

Vanitas nodded, reaching for a briefcase and sliding it across the table.

"Is this it?" the butler asked, his eyes flicking from the briefcase to Vanitas.

It had to be said.

The two had struck a deal.

The briefcase contained everything the butler needed to set his plan in motion and fulfill his revenge.

Vanitas leaned back in his chair, watching the butler's reaction carefully. 

"Yes. You only need to plant the items discreetly. I'll handle the rest."

"Okay."

The butler hesitated for a moment as he tried to open the briefcase, but before he could, Vanitas spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"...."

The butler froze and looked up at Vanitas, clearly taken aback. 

"R—Right, just wanted to confirm…"

"Not here."

The butler gave a quick nod. "Understood."

***

A risky exchange.

But a necessary one.

For that reason, Vanitas had the butler swear an absolute oath.

An absolute oath, or a mana contract in simpler terms, was a binding magical agreement. 

The terms were set by the one who created it, and once signed, the contract bound the contractee's very soul. 

If the terms were broken, the consequences were severe.

In most cases, breaking the contract would result in the loss of mana. 

However, in this case, Vanitas had tailored the contract specifically for the butler's situation. 

The butler wasn't highly proficient in magic, so stripping him of his mana would have little effect on him. Instead, Vanitas crafted a far more permanent consequence.

If the butler betrayed him, or if he revealed any details about their exchange, the price would be his life. 

The oath was absolute, meaning that even if the butler were captured and tortured for information, he would be unable to speak of their arrangement. 

The moment he even attempted to divulge anything about Vanitas or the plan, his heart would stop beating.

It was a harsh and unforgiving guarantee, but Vanitas needed to ensure his own safety.

In this world, where the aristocrats played a dangerous game of chess, Vanitas had to stay five steps ahead of everyone.

"Hmm…."

Vanitas crossed his arms and glanced out the window, taking in the sight of civilians enjoying their day.

There wasn't much to do, if he had to be honest. 

His role was simple. He had provided the butler with the necessary tools to carry out the deed.

He was merely the devil in this arrangement.

To supply the means for the man who had sold his soul with no second thoughts. 

It was a cold, transactional agreement—nothing more.

The briefcase that Vanitas had given the butler contained artifacts tied to dark magic research. 

Alongside them were parchment papers inscribed with demonic language.

A language that few could read, let alone comprehend.

He remembered well how the original Vanitas's laboratory had been burned down by him. 

But mere magic could never truly destroy artifacts that had withstood the tests of time. 

On the other hand, for the parchment of papers, his office had stacks of them. 

Vanitas had always kept them. He understood their value, despite the risks.

He knew that, eventually, he would need them. And now, in this moment, they had proven useful.

It was almost ironic, really. 

The very tools that had once been considered remnants of a past life, were now the sole reason for the Wyndale Marquess Household's downfall.

For now, however, everyone involved would have to wait patiently.

"Ah."

But there was still that lingering oddity he just couldn't quite grasp.

The developers had been absolutely lazy when designing the demonic language.

"저는 채은우 입니다."

Demonic language in this world was essentially just simple Korean.

While he was already aware of this, the thought was still funny.

"How lazy."

***

'How long do I have to wait!?'

Feeling her heart race, panic twisted in Cassandra's chest.

'But I'll forgive you and end everything here if you do one last thing for me.'

Desmond's words just kept replaying in her relentlessly like a broken record.

One thing.

Just one thing.

If she did it, he would stop. He promised.

He would stop, right?

"He promised me…."

He would stop. He would stop. Everything would stop! 

The thoughts tumbled over each other, faster and faster like she was plummeting into the depths of a never-ending cycle of desperation.

Her body trembled. Her hands clenched into fists. 

She could see the end. She could finally escape. It was her chance to finally be free.

"Look at me."

If she just did this, if she just gave in one last time, then everything would go back to normal.

'But will it?'

A nagging voice in her head whispered the question, but she shoved it away.

No, she couldn't think about that now.

It was a lie, wasn't it? A lie to trap her, to keep her bound to him.

Right?

"I said look at me."

Slap—!

The sound of the slap rang in her ears as Cassandra's cheek stung. Her hand instinctively touched her face.

For a moment, everything went still. She could feel the suffocating pressure building.

Desmond stood before her.

"You're not going anywhere until you listen," he snarled.

Slap—! Slap—! Slap—!

The blows came faster, each one forcing her head to tilt to the side. 

Her body trembled with the shock, feeling the sting intensify every hit.

Her thoughts blurred. There was no escape. There was no way out. She had promised herself she wouldn't break.

"Please," she whispered.

Desmond's smirk twisted further. "I don't know why this is so hard for you. Seriously, are you enjoying this? Should I slap you harder?"

"N–No, please…."

It felt so unfair.

If anything, she thought bitterly, it wasn't supposed to be her suffering like this. 

'It should've been Charlotte!'

This was all because of her—because of her existence, her association with Charlotte.

Cassandra hadn't even chosen to be her roommate!

Yet, why…?

Why was Charlotte, who had once been isolated by everyone, now being praised and admired by all?

As the frustration built inside her, Cassandra couldn't help but regret not sabotaging Charlotte's work back then.

And then, a single word echoed in her mind.

'Are you willing to endure?'

His words back then offered her comfort.

But… they were empty words. How long could she endure? Was she even willing?

Under these circumstances!?

Desmond's voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts.

"It hurts me too, Cassandra. Seeing you like this, your beautiful face tainted with red."

He reached out, holding her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"It's really simple, you know," he continued. "Just go out there, lure him in, and scream. Let the world know Vanitas Astrea assaulted you. Isn't that easy?"

He leaned closer. Cassandra could feel his cold breath brush against her ear, causing a disgusting chill to crawl all over her skin.

"I promised I would stop. And hey, I'll even give you the right to become my woman. Can you imagine? A commoner like you, in a relationship with a Marquess like me?"

"...."

"You missed your chance yesterday. But I'll give you another. Do it today, and the agreement is set. I'll even sign an oath."

"...."

Cassandra remained silent, mulling over his words. As she came to a conclusion, she looked up, meeting his gaze.

"No need," Cassandra replied.

Desmond raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I'll do it."