Namgung Se-ga, the warrior, was reincarnated in Romance

Just like last year, the curriculum for the advanced swordsmanship class involved duels between students of the same level throughout the first semester.

It was a process where boys and girls with extraordinary potential—those who might become Sword Masters—were gathered to sharpen and hone their skills to the utmost.

Naturally, some had graduated, and new students had joined, but many familiar faces from last semester were still present.

I watched as the students who were taking the advanced swordsmanship class for the first time under Maelo Sanson’s guidance were amazed.

I too must have looked like that this time last year. It made me smile.

At the center of those people stood Walter Organe.

“You’ve grown a bit taller, Ernst Hart.”

“You’re still the same as ever, Senior.”

“Well, of course, I have to stay the same.”

Today, Walter Organe had his long blond hair meticulously braided and tied up at the back of his head.

He would probably let it down as soon as class was over, so I wondered why he tied it up so carefully, but I didn’t ask. I’m not the type to suppress my curiosity for long.

“That, about your hair,” I asked.

“Huh? My hair? Why about my hair?”

“Do you always tie it up like that? Is there a reason?”

Walter ran his hand through the back of his head and smiled, the corners of his mouth curving slyly like a fox.

“I like someone who likes long hair.”

At that moment, Maelo Sanson called out to Walter from across the room.

As he had graduated a few times already, Walter took the first spot in the duel, showing the younger students a good example, according to Benjamin.

In the beginner swordsmanship class, I had often volunteered to go first to set a good example as well.

When it came to showing respect to a duel partner, Walter Organe’s attitude was impeccable, and I could understand why he always took the lead.

But then, an odd thought crossed my mind.

Only students with exceptional potential—those who could become Sword Masters—were allowed to take the advanced swordsmanship class.

Maelo Sanson, a warrior of the Hwa-gyeong, handpicked the students who showed the potential to shine.

Even though Walter Organe started taking the advanced swordsmanship class as a senior, it had already been five years. Yet, he still hadn’t reached the peak level and remained at a first-class level?

He had been training his swordsmanship with Maelo Sanson’s guidance and had given up on all other subjects. So how was it that he still hadn’t reached the peak of his potential?

I had only seen him struggle with his swordsmanship up until now, but as I started to observe more closely, I saw something different.

Walter’s sword moved in sync with the rhythm, splitting the beats and striking with subtle deviations.

Between his swift movements, he deliberately slowed his actions by half a beat, reducing the speed of his strikes.

Despite having enough breath to spare, he furrowed his brow and wore a look of strain on his face.

When blocking the opponent’s sword, he appeared to lean too far back, as though being pushed back.

As I observed carefully, I felt someone tap my shoulder lightly. It was Rüver, who was standing next to me.

“Why?” I asked.

“Just bored,” he replied casually.

How could one be bored while watching such a duel?

But children are like that, so I patted Rüver’s head to console him, then continued watching the match with a smile.

Rüver, who had his shoulder pressed against mine, bent his tall body down, resting his head on my shoulder, making it easier for me to pat his head.

Just then, Benjamin suddenly had a coughing fit, and I patted his back too.

Really, these kids need constant attention.

—

World Geography Class. It had been a while since I last saw Professor Brianna Casablanca.

She had taught general world history during the first semester of last year, and her every gesture was graceful and elegant.

Like many classes that emphasized notes and memorization, Professor Brianna introduced herself briefly before grabbing a large piece of chalk and standing in front of the blackboard. She then swiftly drew a map of the continents.

In an instant, the shape of the map appeared on the large blackboard.

I was amazed to see how she memorized not only the events that happened across the world but also the names of each region. It was astounding that she could draw the entire world map from memory.

Even without a map, if she were next to me, I wouldn’t worry about getting lost.

Although I had seen the world map several times before, watching her draw the enormous map right before my eyes was strangely overwhelming.

The map, which looked like a butterfly with its broad wings, was drawn with thick, clear lines. The borders I had already memorized—Shayton Desert, the Owang Kingdom, and the Sieron Empire—were clearly marked. I sat up straight and closely examined the letters Brianna wrote on the map.

Since it was the first class, I assumed she would start with the Sieron Empire, but I was wrong.

“Do you all know that there is a unique mountain range in the northern part of the world? But is that truly the end of the world?”

When I first saw the continent map, I thought it looked like a butterfly. The eastern wing was the Sieron Empire, the western wing was the Shayton Desert, and in between them was the Owang Kingdom. I had learned all this before.

However, Professor Brianna took the wide end of the chalk and began shading the area above the Unique Mountain Range.

“Do you know why the Unique Mountain Range is called the Unique Mountain Range?”

“…”

No one answered. Brianna wrote the word “Unique” on the side of the map.

“Unique means there is only one. The Unique Mountain Range is the only mountain range in this vast continent. Of course, there are many other mountains in different regions, but there’s no other mountain range like this.”

She then pointed at the top of the continent.

“The area above the Unique Mountain Range is called the Magic Zone. It is filled with monsters, mana, and chaos. No one knows what lies beyond this mountain range, because the mana density is so high that it’s impossible for anyone who hasn’t trained mana to survive there.”

She drew three arrows pointing downwards from the area she had shaded.

“The Unique Mountain Range acts as a barrier, protecting this continent from the monsters and mana of the Magic Zone. It’s the last defense line that keeps the continent intact, and we call it the final bastion with reverence.”

She drew two thick lines next to the arrows.

“The Unique Mountain Range is humanity’s last defense.”

In the Sieron Empire, when measuring the height of a mountain, people used an artifact called the Seawater Level Artifact. The method involved bringing one half of the artifact to sea level and the other to the peak of the mountain to activate the magic formula.

However, Professor Brianna mentioned that the height of the Unique Mountain Range couldn’t be calculated because no one had ever made it to the peak.

It was a place so perilous that even Maelo Sanson, when he was at his peak, nearly died there. It was a place few could even approach.

I had learned about the areas where people could endure within the Unique Mountain Range. I also learned that the Withrow and Grimsvain Ducal Families had fortified their territories to protect it.

I had discovered that, to reach the Shayton Desert, one would need to cross Owen’s land, which was on the outer edge of the mountain range.

The Unique Mountain Range was so important that both the first and second lessons of World Geography focused on it.

Since I had been wanting to learn about it for so long, I was really happy.

Afterward, we learned about the geography and products of the Sieron Empire, Owang Kingdom, and Shayton Desert.

I tried hard to suppress my expression, as I didn’t want to seem discontent, and forced myself to maintain a composed demeanor.

In the next class, Professor Ray Gibson’s first aid class, I attended with Marianne.

Since the Damien incident, many of the children had been feeling guilty. In particular, Marianne was very sorry that I wasn’t able to immediately cast a spell to disinfect or treat the wounds.

Since magical abilities don’t develop quickly, I welcomed the idea of her learning practical medical skills, thinking it would be helpful.

However, when the class began, Marianne and I both froze.

“Everyone who has come to my class already knows the basics! All accidents happen when we let our guard down! To respond quickly, accurately, and wisely, the most important thing is to always stay alert!”

I should have sat further back.

Ray Gibson had an incredibly loud voice that made my ears ring. I couldn’t tell if I was in an emergency treatment class or a vocal performance class.

The man was in his late thirties with rough, short-cropped hair and deeply sunburned skin. His clothes were tight across his muscular frame, pulling uncomfortably around his body.

If he had developed that much muscle, he should have worn looser, more graceful clothes, but instead, they were tightly squeezed, leaving him with no room to move.

As I sat there speechless, Marianne whispered in my ear.

“I think we’ve come to the wrong classroom. Should we leave?”

“…No, well…”

Rarely, no words came out of my mouth.

Since all the doctors in the Central Plains were slender and delicate-looking, I had unconsciously assumed that all medical practitioners would be like that.

But no, even the family doctors of the Ernhardt family were slender and delicate.

I gazed blankly at the man, who had the chest of a bear and the waist of a giant tree.

The man laughed heartily and grabbed the textbook, shaking it beside his head. What looked like a book in my hand seemed like a small piece of bread in his hand.

With his thunderous voice, he announced that throughout the semester, he would teach us how to respond in various emergency situations.

The most urgent thing right now was the safety of my ears, but what was I supposed to do about that?

I could simply block out the sound with something, but since I still had to listen to at least part of the class, I couldn’t do that either.

For some reason, the man reminded me of Fanga and Bill.

This year was clearly going to be unlucky. I wondered if there was no culture of performing blessings or rituals in Shiren. Maybe reciting some incantations would help rid me of this bad luck.