Chapter 455 - Violent Thoughts from Mental Exhaustion
Inside the tent serving as Saint Emeralda Girls' Academy’s waiting area, I had been waiting for the club members to return for about thirty minutes. They finally came back, though it took longer than expected.
But there was no joy on their faces. It was a hard-earned championship victory, and yet every single one of them stood there with slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. Honestly.
"You're late."
"Evilbanshee-sensei, you were already back? The Advisor was supposed to attend the medal ceremony."
"Was I? I wasn’t told."
"I wasn’t able to locate you, so I, as Club President, accepted on your behalf."
"My apologies."
The medal handed to me was slightly larger than expected, sealed inside a glass case. It didn’t look particularly valuable—more like a mere souvenir. I took it, shoved it into my pocket, and silently studied the row of glum club members before me.
They were dissatisfied with a victory by default. Worse, the venue had erupted into a storm of angry shouts. Logically, our school bore no fault, yet there are always fools too stupid to understand that. If even a fraction of their nonsense reached the girls’ ears, it was only natural they’d feel shaken. That was the situation.
And just like me, they wanted to know what had truly happened and why things turned out this way.
But even I didn’t have the answers. Since offering baseless speculation would serve no purpose, all that was left was to say the obvious—something appropriate to the moment.
"What’s with those gloomy faces? You won. Won. If you’re champions, at least look happy about it."
"How can we be happy with a win like that?"
The curly-haired girl voiced her frustration plainly. She spoke for all of them—nearly everyone nodded in agreement. Only Harriet and my little sister wore faint smiles. These two understood.
There was no need to let fools’ petty schemes affect our mood. No need to care what ignorant outsiders spewed. Their words were nothing but idle noise from outsiders.
Villains don’t fret over bad reputations. As long as there’s results, that’s all that matters. Still, I understood—normal people couldn’t so easily shrug it off.
"Other schools ran away. You won. That’s the only fact. I’m not saying you have to celebrate, but there’s no reason to look so defeated."
No matter what anyone says, we are the champions of the Beltoria preliminary. We have every right to hold our heads high.
In truth, we had dominated every match leading up to the final. Most would’ve considered Saint Emeralda’s victory a foregone conclusion. If betting had been allowed, the odds would’ve been painfully low.
"But we trained so hard! We even fought with each other in the club! We thought that if we won today, all that struggle would’ve been worth it!"
"Looking back, we’ve been through a lot. We promised to fight the preliminaries with everything we had, and we kept that promise. But ending like this… it just doesn’t feel clean."
"After all the arguments we had deciding today’s strategy, it all feels like a joke now."
I’d caught glimpses of their infighting. It didn’t interest me, so I stayed out of it.
Still. To hear them complain about petty disagreements—it was laughable. If they truly regretted fighting, they should say it after they’ve nearly torn each other limb from limb.
To me, children’s playful squabbles didn’t even qualify as real fights. They couldn’t possibly. They weren’t toddlers anymore—this whining was beyond indulgent.
No, wait. That was my true thought slipping out. Better not say that aloud.
"Still, what was the intention behind forfeiting the final match? I understand that teams might hold back to preserve strength for the main tournament. But this renders the entire event meaningless—especially with spectators present. On behalf of our school, I intend to formally protest to both the Federation and the three opposing schools, demanding a full explanation."
"Right, sensei?"
Club President Hermira declared the next steps in a firm tone, as if addressing the entire club, while Vice-President Mildree sought my approval as Advisor.
"Of course. I’ll inform the Headmistress that the Academy will file an official protest. That should be enough to force a response. They can’t possibly ignore it. I’m curious to hear what kind of excuse they’ll come up with."
They wouldn’t be able to offer a satisfying explanation. Expecting one was pointless. But ignoring it would be worse.
This was the proper, straightforward response. As for me—I’d attack from the shadows. Let them try to satisfy me. If they couldn’t, they’d serve as my stress relief. At the very least, they could be useful in that regard.
"Sensei, what should we do? People will probably ask us questions."
"Just tell them the truth. Say you were looking forward to the match, and you’re disappointed—and angry—that it was abandoned. Tell them to ask the three schools what they were thinking."
"We can really say that?"
"Why not? Or were you planning to stay silent? Silence only makes it seem like you’re admitting guilt."
"Guilty? What kind of—"
"Rumors. The usual nonsense—about using power to force a win. Didn’t you hear those jeers at the venue? There are always idiots eager to spread garbage like that. And those three schools might lie too—claim they were threatened by us, or something equally absurd."
"That’s impossible—"
Exactly. Which is why we must crush them completely. Water flows downhill—neglect only makes things worse. Relying solely on interviews with our members won’t be enough. The Academy should issue an official statement.
If possible, we should even declare our willingness to return the championship medal and demand a rematch. That way, fewer fools will fall for the idiotic rumors painting us as villains.
"By the way, sensei—weren’t you at the tournament headquarters? Did anyone from the Federation say anything?"
"I went straight there to confront them, but they’d already fled. They weren’t even at the medal ceremony for the Advisors, were they? Shouldn’t someone important from the Federation have presided over that?"
"Yes, the people there were all unfamiliar."
"‘Went straight there to confront them’…?"
"Anyway, sensei—we get that the Academy will protest. But what about you? Aren’t you going to do anything?"
It was Edith again, the curly-haired one. Still not satisfied. Fine. I’d give her a little truth. Maybe it would ease their frustration, at least a little. Even if they didn’t show it, they were probably all as furious as she was.
"Do you really think I’d let this insult slide? Of course I’ll strike back—both at the Federation and the three schools. As for those three who filed the forfeit… well, since they’ve disgraced the Beltoria preliminaries, perhaps I’ll suggest they withdraw from the main tournament too. And the Federation officials who approved the forfeit? I’ll make them wish they were half-dead. Naturally."
"Um… when you say things like that, sensei, it doesn’t sound like a joke at all."
"Wouldn’t that just get us disqualified? Please, even as a joke, don’t say things like that."
These girls were daughters of the powerful, yet they had no real grasp of how power worked—or how terrifying it could be.
With power, anything is permitted. Anything.
Just think. This very moment, we are the victims of that truth. They pulled this farce, and now they’re walking away unscathed. Only because they believe they have power. Only because they’re arrogant enough to think they can get away with such idiocy.
I’d thought I’d made it clear—repeatedly, thoroughly—that challenging me with such petty strength was meaningless. Apparently, it hadn’t registered at all. The thought gave me a headache.
This time, I’d make them understand—down to the marrow of their bones.
"In any case, for the sake of what comes next, I’ll make sure both I and the Academy deliver strong protests to these fools. As for you, just keep training as usual. Prepare for what’s ahead."
"There are about twenty days until the final tournament. I believe the chaos will settle by then. For now, if anyone asks, respond politely."
"Alright, everyone! It’s a pain, but let’s endure it until then!"
"Yes!"
At Hermira and Mildree’s declaration, the members responded with reluctant energy.
We all knew what would happen if we simply fled the venue. The press would paint us as guilty anyway.
That’s why I sent the Club President and Vice-President out of the waiting area—including the tent—and told them to face any reporters who wanted interviews. If I stayed, I’d end up punching some obnoxious journalist in the face.
I didn’t plan to entertain them endlessly. A short, time-limited session was fine. We were students, after all. Still, we could address most of their questions, state our position, and express our feelings as direct participants. Silence would only invite wild speculation—and nothing good would come of that.
Our school was forced to deal with this tiresome mess, and instead of returning as triumphant champions, we came back burdened by a sour, exhausting aftertaste.
There was no welcoming party at the Academy—it was a holiday, after all. How lonely. Just because our enemies ran away, that didn’t change the fact that we were the champions of the Beltoria preliminaries. For a school that had long been considered weak, this was a rare and hard-won achievement.
"Alright. It’s still early, but we’re dismissed for today. Tomorrow’s back to normal—do whatever you want, go out, rest, I don’t care."
"It’s not quite satisfying, but we’ll go ahead with the planned cake party. I’ll start preparing, so everyone come when it’s time!"
"I’ll help too!"
"I’ll run some errands first."
"Then shall we split into a shopping team and a preparation team at the dorm?"
A small, member-organized victory party. I wouldn’t be attending.
"You should come, sensei."
"Why? I already said I’m busy. Enjoy it without me."
Even if it was tainted, it was still a victory. They should savor it.
Without another word to the noisy girls, I returned to my room.
Once alone, I exhaled deeply.
Why did trouble always find me? I just wanted a clean win, a clean end to the preliminaries.
I roughly tore off the stiff, prim uniform and stepped into a cold shower.
At this point, I just wanted to slaughter them all, carelessly, without hesitation.
If I weren’t tied to an organization, if I were just a lone wanderer—maybe I could’ve done it. Just kidding. Or… maybe I was just tired.
Ah, right. I was used to trouble. I just had to handle it like always.
Under the shower, I sharpened my mind, honing it to the razor’s edge I maintained back in Exembra.
If I couldn’t act carelessly, then I’d act precisely. Do the bare minimum groundwork. Be meticulous. Leave no trace.
Then—anything was possible.
Quiet violence. Smash something, steal something. Ruin pride, destroy trust, shatter social standing.
It would be a hassle to investigate, but targeting what each of them cherished most might be even better.
At this point, I needed to settle my own frustration too. If I didn’t get caught, I could go all out.
Whether I’d kill them or not—I’d leave that to Layla and Heidi’s investigation. But one thing was certain: they would suffer.
Let them remember—deep in their souls—exactly who they dared to cross.
This chapter focused on the club members’ reactions after the final match.
From the next chapter, the story will shift to the atmosphere within the Academy as unsettling rumors spread, followed by actions taken against our adversaries.
I haven’t written any chapters in advance, so while the schedule is uncertain, I’d like to move forward without too much delay.