Chapter 136 – Smug Fool

“Te...re...sa?...........”

Upon hearing the announcement, Frand’s smile—which had started out gracefully composed—froze, twisted, and became faintly grotesque.

“Ahem, now that I think about it, there really are a lot of girls named Teresa...” After a long pause, Frand muttered, clearly flustered.

“Nope, not quite, Mr. Frand,” Blaise replied with a smile. “There’s only one Teresa in our academy. And coincidentally, you know her.”

“.........Miss Blaise, you really do like to joke.”

“I don’t think our relationship is close enough for jokes, Mr. Frand.”

Frand squirmed in his seat as if he’d suddenly developed sores. He desperately wanted to stand up to confirm what he was seeing, but seeing all his colleagues calmly sitting still made him hesitate. He was clearly ill at ease.

The champion team was making their entrance now—and, of course, it had to be the two people Frand most wanted to avoid.

A boy and a girl, both dressed in the regalia of champions, walked ahead of the runner-up and third-place teams like radiant stars surrounded by a sea of admiration. The entire student body and faculty applauded and sang their praise.

“They... actually won?” Frand stammered, nearly combusting from the mental strain. His mind’s CPU was overheating as he tried to compute a reality he had never accounted for.

That useless pair—Not only had they not been expelled, they’d won the Crown Cup? And now they stood at the heart of Coleman Plaza as the reigning champions?

Impossible.

Absolutely impossible.

He had worked so hard to have them expelled due to poor performance—engineering enemies for them, arranging for them to be hunted down first in the Secret Realm, laying every conceivable trap—and this was the result?!

“Miss Blaise, that blonde girl—is that Teresa?!” Frand stared at the stunningly elegant Teresa in utter disbelief.

Just weeks ago, she was a plain duckling with nothing but a few recognizably average features.

There was no way this was the same person.

“Mhm. That’s her.”

“But she was—uh—what about the scar on her face? Where is it?!”

“The scar? It vanished after she Awakened.” Blaise’s smile deepened slightly as she looked at the radiant young girl she herself had once admitted into the academy. “There are reports that, upon Awakening, some scars may disappear due to the circulation of Divine Authority. It’s a phenomenon worth documenting.”

“But... but... how could they have possibly won?! There must’ve been some mistake—or they must’ve cheated somehow! Found some loophole in the rules! Did no one investigate this properly? How can you just declare them the champions so recklessly?!” Frand could no longer maintain his composure. His face was taut and twisted with disbelief.

“Calm down, Instructor Frand.” Blaise remained unruffled, smiling coolly.

“Calm down?! I’m warning you—the Crown Cup is a prestigious competition watched by many! It must be fair, just, and transparent! If someone manipulated the results out of favoritism, the consequences will be unimaginable!”

Pfft... Blaise didn’t get angry. She knew Frand was panicking, biting out blindly in all directions.

“Indeed, I completely agree. But Mr. Frand, you’re wasting your breath on me. The results of the competition aren’t something us low-level instructors have any say in. If you want to accuse someone of cheating, maybe you should go talk to the one who’s about to hand out the awards—the Headmaster himself.”

Her words poured down like a bucket of cold water over Frand’s head.

“The Headmaster...?”

“I already told you, didn’t I? This year’s different. The Headmaster is personally presenting the award and medal to the champions.”

“Which... which Headmaster...?”

“Which one do you think? Aren’t you always boasting about being part of the Elf Tribe? Shouldn’t you know more about your own kind’s affairs than I do?”

Frand fell silent, his expression darkening as his mind spun furiously.

Then suddenly, he stood up and hurriedly left the instructor’s bench.

“Eh? Mr. Frand, where are you going?” Blaise raised an eyebrow, but Frand didn’t answer.

“Better not be trying to stir up trouble,” Blaise murmured with a shake of her head.

“Who knows? At least you tried to talk sense into him,” said another instructor who had never particularly liked Frand, shrugging.

***

At that moment, Teresa and Dylin stood before the central crystal of the plaza, basking in thunderous applause and admiration. Behind them stood the runner-up team led by Astrid and the third-place team led by Felicia. Though the gazes directed at Teresa and Dylin varied, they all carried a shared emotion—respect. Everyone acknowledged the black horse duo’s rightful win.

Not long after, a striking silver-haired young man with a cane appeared at the highest point of the plaza—the stage platform.

“Wow, is that the Headmaster of Coleman Academy?!”

“He’s so young... he became Headmaster at that age?”

“You clearly don’t know much. Look at his race. Think you can judge age by appearance?”

The crowd murmured in awe. Even among the instructors, many had never seen the Headmaster before. He was like a hidden dragon—rarely seen, even within the academy. All anyone knew was that he was an elf and lived at Coleman.

Paying no attention to the excitement around him, Diderlay held a decorated box in one hand. His gaze was gentle as he looked at Teresa, then turned briefly to Astrid—his focus on them made it feel like no one else at the ceremony even mattered.

He carried the ornate box down the stairs from the platform.

Teresa watched him approach, then stole a glance at Dylin beside her.

“Congratulations, Miss Teresa. And Mr. Dylin,” the Headmaster said, in a voice completely neutral and devoid of personal emotion.

In public, Diderlay wouldn’t show even a trace of favoritism or familiarity. Acting like a stranger was the best way to protect Teresa from suspicion or malicious attention.

As for why he’d chosen to appear personally—it was because he wanted to see the human called Dylin with his own eyes.

Though he’d once arranged to have Dylin pressured, he had never actually seen him.

Not because of any other reason—he simply hadn’t considered it necessary.

After a moment of eye contact with Teresa, Diderlay turned his attention to Dylin. He gave him a single assessing glance, then looked away.

Seeing this, Teresa felt a tight knot in her chest.

Judging by the result... it seemed he hadn’t noticed anything wrong.

“Thank you for your kind words, Headmaster,” Teresa replied, accepting the decorated box on Dylin’s behalf. Its weight was a testament to the value of the trophy and medal within.

“No need to thank me. You earned this through your own effort.” Diderlay deliberately looked at Dylin again, this time with a subtle, almost imperceptible sense of pressure in his gaze.

But Dylin didn’t react at all. Instead, he returned a calm and friendly smile.

Diderlay was slightly surprised. This boy’s temperament... it’s better than I expected. He wasn’t fazed by Diderlay’s pressure at all, and could even smile back naturally.

Clearly, this human had some depth.

Whether that was good or bad, however, remained to be seen.

***

The award ceremony proceeded in an orderly fashion.

But just then, a disruptive figure barged into the scene.

Teresa’s first reaction upon seeing him was vague recognition—Who is this idiot again? He looks familiar... Only after a second did she remember who it was.

Frand.

She didn’t care what he thought, nor did she hold any grudge against him. Frankly, Teresa didn’t think he was worth the cost of vengeance.

To her, using any means on someone like him was a waste of resources.

Too bad he didn’t think the same.

His decision to interrupt the award ceremony now—Teresa could guess exactly why he was here.

So stupid. Painfully stupid.

So stupid that Teresa actually had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

Even if you wanted to stir up trouble, couldn’t you pick a better time? Right now? At this moment? Are you so eager to end your career as an instructor?

Think about it—the Headmaster presenting the award is a direct endorsement of the champions. Questioning the results is basically slapping him in the face. Do you even realize what you’re doing?

“I am Frand. Greetings, Elder,” he said, almost kneeling as he bowed to Diderlay.

Teresa clicked her tongue in disbelief. What a bootlicker. The word “toady” came to mind.

“What’s going on? Who’s that instructor guy? Why’s he suddenly on stage?”

“I think his name is Frand... Wait, is this part of the ceremony? Was this scene planned?”

“Oh? Instructor Frand,” Diderlay said coldly, his tone turning slightly frosty. “As I recall, there was no part in the program that included you. Is there something you need?”

Frand, of course, didn’t notice the sudden chill in Diderlay’s voice.

Expecting him to read the room was clearly too much. If he had any tact, he wouldn’t have chosen this moment to grandstand.

“Also, this is an academy, not a tribal council. Calling me ‘Elder’ here is inappropriate.”

“.........Elder, it is my greatest honor to serve you. I trust that every task you assign me is carried out with purpose and meaning. For example...” Frand glanced at Dylin meaningfully.

Teresa nearly burst out laughing. Wow, hitting the nerve right in front of the very people involved. What a genius.

“What exactly are you trying to say, Frand?” Diderlay asked, his brows furrowing.

“I believe your judgment is absolutely correct.” Frand raised his head with a posture of righteousness. “Therefore, I believe the results of the Crown Cup remain questionable and must be further investigated.”

“What are you implying, Frand?” Even Felicia, ever poised, was now visibly frowning. Interrupting a champion’s ceremony like this—what kind of clown behavior was this?

“Suspicious? In what way?” Diderlay remained calm, as only an elder who had lived centuries could. Not only did he not lose his temper, he actually asked patiently.

“I think the fact that those two won is highly dubious,” Frand declared bluntly, emboldened by the question.

Teresa didn’t react. In fact, she wasn’t even listening. She turned away, playing with her hair, as if Frand didn’t even exist.

Even the runner-up and third-place teams were giving Frand dark, disgusted looks.

But he didn’t notice, and continued:

“From what I’ve observed, this so-called Divine Princess Teresa is nothing but a pretty face, and that Dylin... Well, you know what kind of person he is. How could they possibly be crowned champions?”

The plaza fell silent.

Diderlay’s previously kind and tolerant gaze turned... complicated.

He didn’t even register Frand’s insults toward Dylin.

What caught his ear were two phrases:

“In my view, their win is highly dubious.”

“This so-called Divine Princess is nothing but a pretty face.”

...

Astrid was just about to speak up, but then caught sight of the cold glint flashing across Diderlay’s face.

She was stunned. She had never seen this unflappable Elder of the Moon Elves wear such an expression.

But knowing the truth, she understood.

A mongrel half-elf insulting a pure-blooded Gold Elf... was a breathtaking display of hubris.

“You seem to have given them a hard time in the past?” Diderlay said, enunciating each word.

“Yes, but that was—” Frand faltered.

“Miss Teresa,” Diderlay turned and gave Teresa a warm smile. “Would you mind telling me how this wild elf has made things difficult for you in the past?”

“?!” Frand’s pupils contracted. That word—wild elf—stabbed through him like a knife.

Among outsiders, “half-elf” was the polite term. But within the Elf Tribe, they used something else. Something scornful.

Wild elf.

It meant they didn’t see you as an elf at all.

This... What was happening?

Why was this going so wrong?!

Frand had no idea which part of what he said had enraged Diderlay so badly—enough for the elder to spit out such a venomous term right to his face.

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