bookpower Chapter 35: Harassment [2]
Chapter 35: Harassment [2]
Chapter 35: Harassment [2]
A Professor's role was to be a mentor.
To offer both knowledge and compassion, while under an oath to care for and nurture their students.
Moreover, their duty went beyond teaching. It was to guide, support, and help students grow.
Not just about academic success, but about shaping capable, well-rounded individuals.
For that reason, Vanitas couldn't directly harm the second and third year students, responsible for tormenting both Charlotte and Cassandra.
But his restraint only extended to the students.
"I appreciate you coming all the way here, Professor. But what brings you to my home?"
Vanitas had chosen to visit the Household of the senior he believed to be the mastermind behind it all.
The Marquess of Wyndale.
Vanitas took a slow breath before responding.
"I've come to speak about your son, Lord Wyndale."
The Marquess raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the topic.
Vanitas continued, "Your son, Desmond, seems to have taken a particular interest in certain students."
"Certain students?" the Marquess asked.
Vanitas leaned in, his eyes locking onto the Marquess'.
"His actions seem to have left more than just academic marks."
The Marquess stiffened but said nothing.
"I believe his extracurricular activities might need a closer look," Vanitas said.
Though Vanitas wasn't directly accusing, the Marquess clearly wasn't getting the message.
He frowned slightly, clearly searching for the right words.
"What exactly are you implying, Professor?"
Vanitas gave a slight, knowing smile.
"I think you already know, Lord Wyndale," he said, leaning back. "But perhaps we should discuss this further. It's important that we address any.... Misunderstandings."
"...."
Vanitas let the silence stretch, watching him closely.
"If not for your son's sake, then for the sake of the family name," Vanitas said. "These.... 'activities' reflect badly on you all."
"...."
The Marquess remained silent again.
Vanitas noticed a vein pulsing at his temple, but the Marquess didn't speak.
After a long, tentative silence, the Marquess exhaled, his posture relaxing slightly as he leaned back in his chair.
"You're right, Professor," he said, his voice carrying a hint of irritation. "I'll look into this situation and see to it that things are.... sorted."
Vanitas nodded. "Thank you."
The Marquess wiped a hand across his face, as if trying to regain his composure.
"Of course, I'll make sure this doesn't get out of hand," the Marquess added. "The reputation of my family must be protected, after all."
"I'm sure it will."
The Marquess' eyes flickered for a moment, but he quickly masked any trace of doubt with a smile.
***
After the Professor left, the Marquess couldn't contain the anger boiling inside him.
With gritted teeth, he slammed his hand on the table, causing the glass on it to crack.
"Who does he think he is!?"
From the implications, his tonality, and the haughtiness, it was clear to the Lord of Wyndale that he was being threatened by some University Professor.
"Extracurricular activities...?"
He scoffed inwardly.
He could care less.
They were a Marquess household, with centuries of ancestral contributions to their name. They had every right to do nearly anything without consequence.
Still, he couldn't help but think that his son, Desmond, was partly to blame.
If Desmond had been involved in questionable activities, he should have kept a lower profile and avoided attracting attention.
Desmond had always been reckless, but not to the extent that a professor would come to their door.
So, with those thoughts in mind, it was clear to him that the real problem lay with the Professor.
"He called himself Vanitas Astrea....."
Astrea.
Astrea.
"...."
A mere Viscount Household.
"And he dares threaten me!?"
The Marquess' anger boiled over. He sprang from his chair, knocking it backward as he stormed around his office.
It was then.
To– Tok.
A knock on the door.
—Father?
He took a slow breath, turning toward the door.
"Enter."
The door creaked open, and Desmond stepped inside.
"Is everything alright, Father? The servants told me you were looking for me."
"Sit," the Marquess said, gesturing toward the seat in front of his desk.
Desmond hesitated for a moment, then took the seat. His eyes flicked nervously around the room at the mess his father had created.
The Marquess stood still for a moment, his back turned as he stared out the window.
"So," he began. "What exactly did you do?"
***
The results of the examinations came in quickly.
"Wait, you're right. But... this isn't just any foundation."
Dahlia walked towards Vanitas and pointed at the spellformula in the core.
"Look here. This is clearly a spellformula that incorporates Lewton's Law of Spirit Derivation!"
The room quieted as Dahlia pointed at the core of the circuit.
The Professors hurriedly followed. They scanned every spellformula written on the circuit.
"Wait, this...." Aric Landon, the magical theorist, muttered, "This is Enstoin's Law of Zephirical Redundancy!"
"And this one...." Claude Rosamund, of the alchemy department, pointed to another section of the formula. "It's Ace's Pyrokinesis Principles!"
The professors began to murmur among themselves as they ran their fingers over the chalkboard.
Vanitas stood back, still trying to process what they were saying.
"...."
Truth be told, he had only designed the formula after desperately searching through the Spectacle's archives for anything that could help Charlotte's spirit magic.
He had no idea that the circuit he chose—after a quick game of eenie meenie miney mo—was actually the foundational blueprint for every essence of magic.
"...."
To the Professor's present, it was a unified system that could encompass all forms of magic and bind them together.
In other words, it had the potential to simplify circuits, essentially, shortening incantations even further.
Aric Landon turned to Vanitas.
"Professor Vanitas," he said, his voice filled with an air of genuine respect, "this is... extraordinary. Have you considered publishing this work? The magic community could greatly benefit from your research."
Vanitas blinked, completely caught off guard.
Publish? Why? Huh? Now? Not now!
"I suppose I could. I hadn't really thought about it. It's still a rough diagram itself."
The room fell into stunned silence. The professors exchanged bewildered glances.
"Rough diagram?" Dahlia said. "Professor, this is borderline flawless!"
"If this is a rough diagram," Eamon added. "Then I'd like to see what you consider finished!"
"...."
The skepticism they had shown for the past few weeks were no longer present at all!
***
Around this time, when the hallways were empty due to the ongoing lectures, Cassandra was always expected to come to a certain location.
If she didn't, she could only imagine what would happen.
Despite reporting to the Professor, the harassment didn't stop.
Had she made a mistake?
He had told her to endure.
But for how long? How long must she suffer such unfair circumstances?
The situation hadn't improved at all. If anything, it was getting worse, and she was slowly losing hope. There were moments when she just wanted to drop out.
But she couldn't.
Not when her family back in the countryside had such high expectations for her after managing to secure a spot in the top 100 of the ESAT examination.
"There she is," a certain voice echoed.
Around him stood nobles from various households. At the center of the group sat the one who had brought them all together.
Desmond Wyndale, of the Wyndale Marquess Family.
He sighed, clearly frustrated. "Because of that examination, the Professors are all watching Charlotte Astrea now. We can't just go after her anymore. But you..."
"...."
Cassandra stood silently, feeling her heart pound relentlessly.
Desmond raised an eyebrow. "Did you bring it?"
She looked at him, her fists clenching. "No, I didn't bring it. I'm done. I've had enough of this."
Desmond smirked. "Oh? Fighting back now, are we?"
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a mocking tone. "You know what's funny? That fucker Vanitas came to my house the other day. Care to tell me how that happened?"
"...."
Cassandra froze, feeling her blood running cold.
She knew exactly where this was going, and her stomach churned. Desmond's grin only widened.
"I.... I don't know...." she said.
Desmond cocked his head, pretending not to hear her. "Huh? What did you say, bitch?"
"I don't know...." she repeated, a bit louder this time.
Desmond leaned in even closer. "Speak louder. Come on!"
"I said I don't—"
Slap—!
Before she could react, his hand shot out, delivering a sharp slap across her face.
The nobles around them laughed.
One of them sneered. "What's the matter, Cassandra? Can't take a hint?"
The laughter continued as the group surrounded her, and indiscriminately pushed her to the ground.
Desmond's grin remained, amusement evident in his expression.
But Desmond wasn't acting without caution. The brutal beatings Cassandra endured were done in such a way where there would be no marks.
If there was a bruise, it wasn't his fault.
Everything had been carefully planned. If anyone tried to report him, it would be nothing more than baseless accusations.
Desmond grabbed her hair and pulled her close to his face.
"But I'll forgive you and end everything here if you do one last thing for me."
"...."
Cassandra's lips trembled, but remained silent.
"Can you do that for me, Cassandra?"
She swallowed deeply for a moment, hesitating.
But from his tone, it was clear she couldn't refuse. With a heavy heart, Cassandra nodded her head.
"....Okay."