Chapter 80
Your Majesty.
In the Harcia Empire, there is only one person who can be addressed that way—
the current Emperor, Clois Arelkian Harcia.
“Why on earth is Ibi in such a state… ah.”
Seraphina, who had rushed in with alarm, froze and clapped her hand over her mouth.
‘I’m dead!’
She had barged in, startled, thinking that Clois might have been caught up in the matter—and before she realized it, she had blurted out “Your Majesty.”
But Clois had told her very firmly that he didn’t want anyone to know who he really was, at least not yet, and had warned her to be careful.
And now, this slip of the tongue.
“Um, I… I only…”
Seraphina was even more flustered than when she had once failed to cast a large-scale war spell, fumbling over her words.
Clois clicked his tongue and spoke.
“Enough. I have no intention of hiding it any longer.”
At those words, Seraphina let out a sigh of relief and bowed her head deeply.
“Thank you for Your Majesty’s boundless grace.”
When she straightened and formally saluted him in the manner of one addressing a superior, silence filled the room.
At first, everyone thought they must have misheard.
But no—the sight of Seraphina bowing confirmed it.
That difficult, proud mage, the one who never lowered her head to anyone, even before she became headmaster—was bowing.
Seeing her example, the hesitant Arsel and Ruska quickly bent one knee and lowered their heads to Clois as well.
When Seraphina, then Arsel and Ruska, all paid their respects, the rest of the room felt their breaths stop.
Professor Sian Roshen—the one they knew—
was the Emperor.
The very professor who had sent magic stones to Ibi Elden, and had even prepared a private office to teach her personally.
No one was foolish enough not to understand what that meant.
“W-we greet Your Majesty.”
“Your Majesty!”
The students scrambled to follow Seraphina, Arsel, and Ruska’s example, bowing clumsily.
But, never having properly learned how to salute an emperor, their gestures were awkward and disorderly.
Amidst all those kneeling, one person stood blankly.
Izriella.
“W-what are you saying… Your Majesty…?”
It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She simply refused to accept it.
Her eyes fell on Ibi, face red and bowed deeply, trembling in Clois’s arms.
And on the girl’s tender cheek, the mark of Izriella’s hand stood out clearly.
“Headmaster Seraphina, how does the Gifted Institute punish a student who raises a hand against another?”
Punishment. The word stabbed into Izriella’s ears.
“It depends on the severity. At the lightest, one week of probation and a written reflection. At the heaviest… expulsion.”
“In this case, what do you believe the punishment should be?”
“In this case…?”
“Accusing a fellow student of being a criminal with no evidence beyond suspicion, then ganging up with others to use violence against a much younger child. That case.”
Clois’s voice, laced with anger, pinned everyone to the floor.
Mouths went dry. Cold sweat trickled down their backs.
Within the Emperor’s tone was the iron certainty that this would not be overlooked.
“As I recall, if the assaulted student is injured, expulsion is possible. That student is then barred from ever reapplying to the Institute, and from attending the Academy for ten years. If relatives were involved, then the family members themselves are barred as well.”
Thud.
At Seraphina’s words, Izriella collapsed weakly to the floor.
Those punishments she had just heard—were the punishments she herself now faced.
“N-no… I only… I thought she was lying, that’s all… I only wanted to confirm it…”
Her voice stammered, dazed.
She was taller than Ibi, but in the end, she too was only in her early teens.
Yet because of what she had done, she faced expulsion, and her entire family would be barred from the Gifted Institute and Academy.
Hers was an old, distinguished house from the central lands, one her parents were immensely proud of.
And now she would be expelled—and her whole family disgraced and cut off from advancement.
Connections, prestige—all gone. Who would associate with a family so dishonored?
“No…!”
Her teeth chattered, her hands shook.
In her mind rose the image of her strict parents, always harping on family honor.
Then Clois spoke again.
“And this student says her brother ‘looked into it’ for her. Would that count as family interference in Institute affairs?”
“We would need to investigate further, but if she acted based on outside information, it would very likely apply.”
“Good. Then Headmaster, you will personally investigate all of this and determine the punishment.”
“I accept your command.”
Seraphina straightened, her usual flippancy gone, and bowed with military-like precision.
“Your Majesty! Please, no! Listen to me! I didn’t mean to hit her—!”
Izriella, clutching at what little composure she had left, cried out.
But Clois never once turned back. He strode out.
Arsel and Ruska hurried after him. Irene tried to follow as well, but the two gave her a look, raising a hand to signal she should stay.
And so she remained behind, staring at Ibi with pained eyes as the girl was carried away.
“Ibi…”
No one dared raise their head as he walked.
Those who had witnessed the scene knew—the Emperor’s word could condemn Izriella’s family as accomplices.
Fortunately, Clois spared no more attention for the others and left the room.
Once outside, Arsel rushed to speak.
“Your Majesty, the Institute’s infirmary is this way—”
“No. I’ll take her to the Main Palace.”
At the word Main Palace, not only Arsel and Ruska but even Ibi in his arms gasped.
“I-I’m fine!”
“No. Best to be certain.”
And with that, Clois carried her swiftly toward the Imperial Palace.
An hour after the uproar at the Institute, Clois paced restlessly in his office.
Footsteps echoed in the hall, and soon a familiar palace physician entered.
“Your Majesty, the child you brought—”
“How is Ibi?” Clois cut him off, urgency in his voice.
“She has no serious injuries. However, as her skin is still soft and delicate, her cheek has bruised from the blow. It will take a few days—”
“If that isn’t a serious injury, then what is!”
His voice rose, startling the physician, before Clois caught himself.
“…Forgive me. Hearing you say it’s not serious when the child was struck like that—I lost my composure.”
“No need to apologize. I was reporting by the standards of palace knights. The swelling and bruise should fade within a week. I checked her mouth as well—no cuts, no loose teeth. A female physician also examined her body. Aside from minor bruises, there are no bone injuries.”
“…Hah.”
At last, Clois exhaled in relief.
“One more thing. Normally in such cases, children are so frightened they faint or remain deeply shaken. But… this girl is surprisingly calm.”
“That’s fortunate.”
“That may not be it…”
The physician hesitated.
“…She may be accustomed to situations like this. I learned she’s from an orphanage. Perhaps there—”
“No. That’s not it.”
Clois immediately denied the suggestion.
“Even before she knew who I was, she spoke only well of her orphanage head, defending him eagerly. She wouldn’t have been abused there.”
“I see. In any case, the child is stable. Would you like to see her?”
“Yes.”
Clois quickly left for the palace infirmary.
He knocked and stepped inside—
And froze.
“Y-Your Majesty!”
Ebi, with a thin bandage on her cheek, had fallen to both knees, forehead pressed to the floor.
