Editor 134

Place of Friendship (2)

The summer semester that started in April required less preparation than the winter semester. Dione, who used to pack simply for him, made a deliberately disappointed face and joked.

“What, the mischievous prince’s friendly visit woke up our sleeping young master. I’m a bit sad, you know.”

Unlike usual, Cleio could not return a smooth answer to her.

Thanks to that, Dione, who gained momentum, teased him endlessly, asking if he was embarrassed, saying it was fun now that the young master finally had a friend.

And since that hit the mark, Cleio just busied his hands packing his things.

‘Jeongjin’ actually found the word “friend” even more unfamiliar than the term “father.” He had never had such a person in his life.

In his childhood, language was the problem.

Jeongjin’s accent, learned from his mother, was subtly unique, and children were brutally honest about others’ differences.

His speech was not in the standard language, but it was also far from the standard accent. For a seaside village in the southern provinces, it sounded too foreign.

As he grew, Jeongjin became a student who didn’t speak much. Although ostracism lessened, it was still impossible for him to naturally blend in with his peers. He was busy hiding his background even from his teachers.

Even after he grew older and corrected his accent, if a conversation went on for too long, old scholars with northern roots would catch faint traces of a regional dialect in his words.

“You know, you talk like people from Songdo during the Japanese occupation. There’s an accent that no longer exists. Did any of your grandparents come down during the retreat after the Korean War?”

Whenever that happened, Jeongjin would dodge the harmless but rude questions with an appropriate excuse.

Language, as an old marker, separated Jeongjin from others. That’s why he tried even harder, desperately, to live like everyone else.

He went to university and got a job.

Naturally, he made school friends and work colleagues.

But he never got the chance to know what friendship was. He only felt closeness with people who were already dead and only recorded in history, or with characters in books.

For someone like Jeongjin, who had lived such a life, becoming friends—of a sort—with the protagonist of “The Prince of the Kingdom of Albion” seemed, in a way, consistent.

A world where something he never even knew he lacked was lightly given felt fresh and strange.

No, what was truly strange was Arthur’s attitude itself.

“We’re traveling together because of mutual interests anyway, but he acts like a real friend.”

But the friendship that Arthur worked so hard to build was, at best, only half-real.

Cleio’s soul and material circumstances did not match, and in such a situation, true friendship could not be established.

“In the first place, how old am I to be friends with an eighteen-year-old? Being good friends is something you do when you’re young; once you’re an adult, you often lose touch with people anyway.”

Cleio stopped thinking at that point, opened a chapter of memory, and closed it at random.

“Enough. Whether it’s because the kid is young or just has a good nature, he’s a very reliable colleague. Why worry about the future in advance?”

He had already thought too much. If it was something he couldn’t change anyway, worrying more was just a waste of energy.

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The three days after the new semester began passed in a blur.

In their second year, the swordsman and magician tracks split, so on days with major-specific classes, Cleio and Arthur’s group spent their schedules separately.

Morning training became regular, and afternoon personal practice and research hours also had assigned instructors, so there was no time to relax like in the first year.

“I heard it would be like this, but to actually end up like this right away…”

Cleio had promised to become a research apprentice before vacation, and even reached level 5 during the break, so it was no wonder Zebedi made a fuss.

The day after the semester started, Zebedi summoned Cleio and, looking like he was about to carry him around on his shoulders, handed him the key to the research apprentice’s annex.

He’d heard that no one had used it for decades since Zebedi’s appointment, but after being cleaned and polished over the break, the annex looked as good as new.

“You don’t like being interfered with, so I won’t decide your research topic. Do whatever you want as much as you want. The building itself has a permanent defense spell, so it won’t break from ordinary experiments!” Zebedi said, understandably proud.

The two-story, square-shaped Meredies-style building with a central courtyard seemed perfect for conducting magical experiments away from prying eyes.

Cleio sighed, wondering how he’d ended up considering things like being a villainous mad scientist, and began planning to understand the annex’s structure and reinforce security.

There were two materials he needed for that.

A half-case from the Bishop’s Tower, vintage 1875, and the Mausoleum of Arts.

Behemoth, who was grooming himself on the dorm bed, had growled, “Handle your own lab prep. Don’t bother me.” But as soon as Cleio mentioned six bottles from the Bishop’s Tower, his attitude changed instantly.

“I’ll be keeping magic stones and all sorts of talismans and papers with spells in the lab from now on, things I wouldn’t want people to see, so security has to be thorough from the start.”

With that in mind, he ended up spending 4,200 dinar on six bottles of wine. Since 1875 was a great vintage, the price per bottle had gone up by 100 dinar each year.

Of course, for Cleio now, that amount was insignificant even if it left his account.

So, expecting the price to rise every year, and keeping it secret from Behemoth, he bought three more cases—36 bottles—of the same wine and had them stored in the Asher estate cellar.

Half as a bribe for Behemoth, half with the idea of drinking them up later during a period of unemployment.

That seemed like enough to call it a well-lived year.

.

.

.

The only second-year common classes for the swordsman and magician tracks were history and classics, so, having missed Wednesday’s history class, Cleio only got to properly greet all the kids by Friday evening.

The Angelium twins and Chel greeted Cleio warmly as he entered the dorm dining hall.

All the freshmen were gathered in the auditorium for school rules training, so with only second to fourth years scattered about, the dorm dining hall was quiet.

“Ray!”

“We wondered what happened since you were absent from history class.”

“Did you maybe get the semester start date wrong?”

“How did you know I wasn’t at school on the first day when you’re not even in my class?”

As always, the twins quickly took seats on either side of Cleio and chattered away.

“Arthur told us.”

“That fox we hunted in Tristain’s territory, we made a scarf out of it, and I was going to bring it to you.”

“Arthur said you wouldn’t be in your room.”

“Still, we waited to see if we could catch you at dinner, but you were always called away by the Dean.”

“All for being a research apprentice!”

As usual, Chel sat across from Cleio and the twins.

“At least we’re taking Carolingian together. Let’s get along for the year. Go easy on the beginners.”

“Chel, you too.”

At that moment, Arthur, entering the dining hall with Isiel, waved at his friends. With his sharp hearing, he seemed to have caught all the conversation at the table.

“Yeah, me too! That! I signed up!”

Arthur’s booming voice echoed in the dining hall, drawing the attention of all the students eating.

Wondering what Arthur was up to now, Cleio briefly activated “Perception” and was surprised.

There were whispers about Arthur and his friends all over the dining hall, but the tone was more curious than hostile.

“Well, now they’re key members of the Golden Year, Class of 977.”

Arthur acted the same as when he had a beard and looked like a beggar, but the evaluation of him was completely different, making Cleio feel strange.

Of course, such sentimental thoughts didn’t last thirty seconds among the kids.

Spinning the empty wine glass before her, Chel teased,

“Arthur, you don’t even know the Carolingian alphabet.”

“I’ll just learn from now! I’m only taking two electives, so it’s fine.”

Somehow having convinced the kitchen supervisor, Arthur brought two bottles of wine in a basket and filled Chel’s glass first.

Soon, the servers began bringing food to Arthur and his friends’ table.

“Carolingian has so few students, I bet there won’t even be separate sections. I can already guess the prince’s grades this semester.”

Second-year class composition and grading were completely different from first year.

The two major classes combined for 250 points, the common classics and history classes for 100 points, and two electives combined for 50 points.

The total was still 400 points, and from second year onward, rankings were separated between the magic and knight tracks.

Of the forty students in the class of 977, four had left for various reasons, leaving twenty-nine in the swordsman track and seven in the magician track.

For Cleio, who had to graduate in the top three, this was a welcome development. He only needed to surpass four others to make it into the top three.

“Oh, then what about Isiel?”

“I also signed up for Carolingian.”

“What else are you taking?”

“There are several, so it would take too long to list them all.”

Rifi’s question was intercepted by Chel, who answered for Isiel. If Isiel himself had said it, it would have sounded like bragging, given the impressive list of electives.

“As I said, Isiel is taking Carolingian with us, then military science, math, and also auditing magical theory. I’m also planning to take the general magic course with him.”

“As expected of Isiel.”

“Amazing.”

The twins, pausing while slicing freshly served white asparagus, let out their admiration, looking a bit overwhelmed.

Their conversation reached Cleio’s ears, but went right back out again. With such dishes in front of him, talk of course registration couldn’t possibly hold his attention.

“White asparagus… steamed with butter and wine?”

The fragrant aroma of herbs and light floral notes wafted from both the wine Arthur poured and the asparagus.

Pairing thick, in-season asparagus steamed in wine and butter with the same wine as a side was an excellent combination.

Savoring the rich flavor of the butter, the wine’s subtle acidity, the perfect amount of salt, and the texture of the fresh asparagus, Cleio took a sip of wine.

There was almost no sweetness, but the aroma was sweet and splendid, as if spring flowers were blooming in his mouth.

The label on the bottle Arthur was holding had an unfamiliar name, but the taste was familiar. It was a dry Riesling.

“This wine… no matter how I think about it, it’s Riesling Trocken. Perfect, just perfect. Ha, it’s spring.”

Of course, it tasted about ten times better than the same kind of wine he used to buy at discount wine markets.

Next came deep-fried zucchini flowers stuffed with ricotta cheese, and chicken roulade with sautéed onions and leeks stuffed inside, the skin facing out, roasted to perfection.

“This school dining hall is a national treasure… I could call it a cultural asset.”

When he cut the hot, crispy tempura in half, the pure white cheese melted smoothly and spread across the plate.

The crispy, moist texture of the flower and the tangy, soft cheese flavor melted together in his mouth.

Cleio let out an exclamation without realizing it.

“Ah, this is so delicious….”

“Seriously, it’s amazing. After the break, Mrs. Charlotte’s kitchen leadership seems even more incredible.”

“Mrs. Charlotte?”

As Arthur quickly refilled Cleio’s empty glass, he started talking about Mrs. Charlotte, the head chef of the school dining hall.

“Don’t you remember when we first met? Mrs. Charlotte was the one taking care of your late meal then too. She decides all the school dining hall menus. Thanks to my connection with Mr. Thompson, I always get plenty of drinks.”

Cleio also recalled Mrs. Charlotte—a sturdy woman with red cheeks, always wearing a headscarf. Of course, Arthur’s behavior didn’t quite match his explanation.

“Is that really getting treated? Isn’t it more like mooching?”

“Come on, you drink plenty too, so don’t talk.”

“That’s that.”

Cleio cut off further conversation and sliced the chicken. The outside was crisp, but the inside was perfectly cooked and still slightly pink, making him marvel at the perfection.

“There are four dining halls just on campus, and yet the quality control is this good. Maybe Mrs. Charlotte has some sort of divine blessing? Ha, even this corrupt school actively attracts talent.”

He couldn’t help but feel grateful for the situation.

People’s mouths are all the same; the kids’ chatter soon died down. Only the faint sounds of cutlery on plates and glasses being set on the table could be heard.

Then it happened. A male student burst into the dining hall with a crash. Judging by the silk vest under his uniform jacket and the flashy sword belt, he was a fourth-year.

“Attention everyone! Listen up!”

A few upperclassmen looked up from their plates, unimpressed.

“What is it, Mark?”

“Dinner’s really good tonight. If you’re interrupting for nothing, you’ll regret it.”

The student called Mark was undeterred by his friends’ coldness. He was too eager to share the news he’d just learned.

“Is dinner important right now? Listen. Magician-track Gilad Eclipse got expelled!”

For a moment, the entire dining hall fell silent.

Then, murmurs like “I knew it’d be him,” “Again?” echoed under the high arched ceiling.