SMMA 62

Episode 62

Ihan tucked the potions into his pouch one by one.

“To be gifted with such potions—why, I could almost weep with joy…”

“What brings you here? If I can help at all, I will,” said Siana earnestly.

So Ihan told her about the cruel trap hidden in the alchemy assignment.

Listening with grave eyes, Priestess Siana suddenly brightened.
“Ah, yes—I thought some of those ingredients seemed strange. I was planning to cross-check them against texts later…”

“We’re pooling ingredients now, planning to experiment and track where the recipe fails. But we’ll need the unmatched skill of the incomparable Siana.”

At once, without hesitation, she nodded.
“Of course I’ll help. I’ll even gather the Phoenix Tower students!”

She raced off, eager. Ihan, watching her small figure disappear, sighed inwardly.

If only the White Tiger Tower were so easy…

The Black Turtle Tower was simpler still.

Nillia and Ratford had already dragged over companions. The challenge had not been persuading them but deterring them—at the sight of Ihan, the Turtle students mobbed around, thinking he’d brought goods, thrusting wares at him.

—“Wadanaz! Look! A blade-staff for the Tigers!”
—“Wadanaz! A talisman for dodging golems! It’s yours!”

By contrast, White Tiger Tower…

“There’s Wadanaz!”
“Never face him alone!”

“……”

Even with Derregue trying to coax them out, the Tigers stubbornly resisted.

Ihan gave up. Forget them. We’ve enough already.

With three towers gathered, ingredients abounded.

Ihan, Yonellia, and Siana prepared the surplus ingredients, measured them precisely. These, for controlled experiments.

“All ready,” Yonellia said. “Testing can begin.”

“Excellent work, everyone.”

The students sighed as one. To have to undergo more torment because of Professor Thunderstep’s spiteful tricks… outrageous.

“Wadanaz. They say you’re using your outside pass tomorrow?”

“!”

Blue Dragon Tower knew. But the rest did not. Turtle and Phoenix students gaped.

“You—you have an exit permit?!”
“Truly, Lord Wadanaz!”
“How did you get it? Defeat a monster?”
“That’s not the point! Wadanaz—what will you bring back?”

They crowded him, eyes glittering. Their longing to escape was strong—but stronger still was hunger for what he’d bring from outside.

“If you can go out… what must we ask for? So much, I can’t even choose!”

“Calm down. Let’s organize.”

He kept silent, but his friends went wild.

“Food, obviously! Compact, high sugar!”
“Borrow a wagon, haul it in!”
“Weren’t wagons prohibited at admission?”
“Forget food, clothes! What we wear now is rags.”

But they’re comfortable enough… thought Nillia.

“True… sturdy clothes, proper boots, cloaks, hats.”
“Yes, I want that too!”

Asan broke in: “I’d rather books. And pens.”

“You can’t eat books!”
“I know. Food matters, but we’ve needed books. The library’s a chaos pit. Assignments crush us. We need basic texts to survive.”

Even the confection-mad nodded—because he was right.

“And calculation artifacts, too. I’m dying doing sums by hand.”
“Good point.”

“And since we’ll starve for entertainment—magazines, novels, board games!”

“…?”

The group froze.

“Gainando, really? That’s urgent to you?”
“Of course it is!”

“Guys. Wadanaz is already gone.”

“What?!”

Seeking rest for Sunday’s trip, Ihan had already retreated to his chamber.

I can’t sleep.

He grimaced. Like a child before a field trip, tossing restlessly.

Except this wasn’t innocent excitement—it was anxious dread.

Can I even succeed?

Anyone watching might think he faced graduation examinations.

It was a legal exit with a permit—but knowing the academy, he anticipated traps.

Think. What rules will they impose?

Probably, no wagons, no mounts. He had expected that.

Carrying supplies himself, fine. But what of distances?

His first escape had a carriage. Not now. What if the nearest village lay beyond a day’s march? A cruel test disguised as a reward?

Damn. Had I learned physical-boosting magic, I’d have managed easily…

SLAM—

A book burst out of his shelf.

The black, coverless one—the Headmaster’s gift.

From its pages, tendrils of script lashed around him, dragging him away.

“What—?!”

Before the thought finished, he stood in a barren void. An illusion—the book’s conjuring.

BOOM!

The book itself floated before him, pages flipping—displaying the spell he had once been shown but never mastered: Gonadalthes’ Nimble Step.

“This… you want me to master this?”

The book bobbed once.

“You recommended it… seeing me worry?!”

It bobbed again, smugly.

For a moment, he found it almost adorable.

But then its insistence hardened.

“No—I lack time. Tomorrow is my outing. Send me back.”

The book froze in air, then wagged… slowly, sternly shaking its form side to side.

Mocking denial.

“……”

So much for adorable.

He threw fire.

“Burn!”

Nothing. The flames refused.

The book shrugged mockingly, flipping pages. Only Nimble Step was permitted.

Resigned, Ihan sighed, hefted his staff.

Prisoner 24601!

“Master, I’m no prisoner.”

Oh. Apologies. Age confuses me.

“……”

The Headmaster’s idle banter with his own summon barely fazed Ihan now.

Dragged into dream-training, but at least his sleep wasn’t stolen. It wore him, but better than nothing.

What madness, that I feel grateful for scraps…

“Congratulations, Wadanaz! Celebrate your outing, earned fairly! Your rightful reward!”

“…Thank you.”

“The rules: leave at sunrise, return before the next sunrise! Fail, and the pursuit squad will be released!”

“……”

He had suspected. But hearing it aloud exasperated him still.

“You may carry only what you yourself can bear. No wagons, no beasts, no vehicles.”

“Understood.”

“So! Do your best!”

“…?”

Ihan frowned.

No weight limit? No money cap? No capacity fix? Rules seemed… generous. Suspicious.

Morning.

He ran. Hard.

By noon sun, he arrived. The village of Philone—closest to the academy.

“So… there are no noble manors here?!”

“Student sneaking from the academy, eh? Of course not. When term begins, retainers are forced to move them far.”

“……”

He froze.

In truth, imperial houses never abandoned their holdings. They usually purchased manor houses nearby, stocked with servants and slaves—living banks to draw from.

That was what Ihan had counted on—bringing the students’ signed ledgers to cash for funds.

Gone.

“Where then?”

“Over in Granden City.”

“How far—by horse?”

“Several days’ ride.”

“……”

And Ihan understood.

Why the Headmaster hadn’t specified money or load limits. He had already cut off every conceivable supply line. The “reward” was despair.

So that the students who reached Philone realized their hopelessness—too late.

This insane academy…

“Truly—is this necessary?”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Ihan clenched his jaw. He would not yield.

“Where is the nearest merchant guildhall?”

“Over that street—but why?”

“…I’m going to borrow money.”

The villager’s jaw dropped.

The boy looked every inch a noble-born… now declaring he would beg loans?

…Surely he knows what he’s doing?