How To Ruin The Original Work (16 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 14
Allen, who had changed from his school uniform into training attire, blankly stared at the vast training ground with unfocused eyes.
“Allen.”
“…Jeez! Nigel, uh… Oh, the weather’s really nice today, isn’t it? Haha, hah…”
“Stop pretending like nothing’s wrong.”
“…Ah. Noah told you, didn’t he? I specifically told him so many times that it was a secret between you and me!”
Allen shot a sour glance toward Noah.
“No, I asked first. Your walk was so strange—I couldn’t just ignore it even if I tried.”
“I’m not *that* bad, am I? Right, Noah?”
Allen turned hopeful eyes toward Noah, pleading desperately.
“Uh…”
Noah just rolled his eyes, unable to find a proper response.
“You really are that bad. Just tell me what happened. What’s there to worry about over a mere two-hour class?”
“…”
Nigel crossed her arms and fixed Allen with an unblinking stare. But no words came out—only Allen’s lips quivered slightly.
“If you don’t want to talk to me, then fine.”
“N-no!”
Allen hastily grabbed Nigel’s arm as she turned to leave.
“It’s just… kind of hard to say. Do we really have to fight over something like this?”
“Yeah. Remember the day we first met at the train station—you said we were friends, even fate itself. Are you really the kind of person who won’t tell your friend something but spills it to Vessalion, whom you only met yesterday?”
Stung by Nigel’s sharp retort, Allen hung his head low.
Yet beneath that lowered head… his face wasn’t dejected at all—it flushed bright red.
Nigel, who had always either denied their relationship or stayed silent, had just called him her friend for the first time.
“…It’s really nothing serious. That’s exactly why I didn’t say anything… Do you want to hear it?”
Allen kicked aimlessly at the sand covering the training ground as he spoke.
“Yeah.”
The reply came instantly.
Allen struggled to pull down the corners of his mouth, which kept threatening to rise into a grin, and lifted his head.
But as soon as he saw Nigel’s face, his cheeks burned hotter than ever.
“…It’s because we’re the same.”
“What?”
“…I was afraid they’d find out I’m weak!”
“…”
He’d mustered all his courage to say it, yet she remained silent.
Of course—Nigel must be disappointed by how pathetic he was. Even though he’d expected this reaction, it still stung.
“So what if you are?”
“…What?”
Surprised by her unexpected reply, Allen’s eyes widened.
“You knew from our very first meeting that I… get lost easily, right?”
“That’s… true. But that’s something you’re born with. You’re still smart, aren’t you?”
“And Allen, you’re great at finding your way. It’s different—not bad at all.”
“Is… that so?”
“Exactly. So there’s no need to worry. Besides, I’ve known you were weak ever since you carried my luggage.”
“…So you knew all along.”
Allen scratched his head.
“Yeah, so stop trying so hard to act tough in front of me and getting hurt. Just do your best—whether you’re good or not.”
“Nigel…!”
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Just then, three sharp claps sounded from behind them, followed by a muscular, firm arm landing on Nigel’s shoulder.
“That was very impressive. Indeed, a blade dances joyfully only in the hands of one who truly knows their limits.”
The arm’s owner was a red-haired man with his hair tied high—the same person who had accompanied Noah on enrollment day.
His name was probably…
“…Professor Rone?”
“…Master.”
She was the first-year Swordsmanship Department instructor and Noah’s childhood swordsmanship mentor.
“How admirable. You even knew my name before I introduced myself. Are you Noah’s friend? What should I do—I don’t know yours.”
“It’s fine.”
Professor Rone tousled Nigel’s hair roughly with her calloused, scarred hand and stepped forward to face the students.
“Hello, freshmen! I’m Rone, and this semester I’ll be teaching Basic Swordsmanship. Now, give me a round of applause!”
Clap clap clap clap.
“Hmm, good, good! Freshmen really are delightfully pure-hearted. Your seniors wouldn’t even bother clapping.”
Rone laughed heartily.
“Although I’m the Swordsmanship Department professor, during my class no department receives special treatment. Everyone—regardless of department—will be pushed equally hard. Alright, now run five laps around the training ground—move out!”
At her booming command, Rone began sprinting around the field.
After a moment of hesitation, the students scrambled after her.
“Huh… huff…”
“Ugh… I-I’m gonna die…”
“How’s that? Feeling restless, ready to move your body? Stop lazing about and get up! Everyone, pick up one wooden sword from the pile ahead—move out!”
At her powerful, ear-splitting command, the students shakily reached for their wooden swords with trembling arms.
“Today, you’ll learn basic swinging. I’ll demonstrate several times—watch closely and follow!”
The instant she gripped her wooden sword, Rone’s expression turned utterly serious, all traces of laughter gone.
She spread her legs firmly apart, braced her core tightly, and swung the wooden sword.
Whoosh!
The swing was so fast that no trace of the blade remained visible.
The fierce gust produced by the swing didn’t just whistle—it violently tousled the students’ hair as it passed.
“Oh, my apologies. It’s been a while since I handled a wooden sword—I forgot to moderate my strength. Sorry about that.”
Rone lightly tested the sword’s weight a few times, then resumed perfect posture.
“Hmm, that’s better. Now, everyone—follow me!”
If Cledian had been a question hell, Rone was a swinging hell.
She placed Noah at the front and instructed the students to keep swinging in sync with his movements and her commands.
She walked among them, correcting each student’s posture.
“Your upper body’s posture is good, but lock your lower body more firmly. And you—you’re putting too much tension in your arms. Swing like that, and you’ll get injured before long.”
As Rone walked toward the right, her gaze landed on one student.
‘That one’s posture isn’t bad.’
Her eyes brightened with interest as she approached.
‘That child must be… Noah’s friend?’
Amused by their camaraderie, Rone smiled fondly and walked up to Nigel.
Startled by the sudden shadow, Nigel paused mid-swing and looked up.
“Even though your muscles are still underdeveloped, your form isn’t bad. With correction, you’ll become quite capable.”
“…Thank you.”
Rone was pleased that Nigel accepted the praise without pretense.
“Good. Tell me—who taught you swordsmanship?”
“A former Temple Holy Knight taught me the basics.”
“No wonder—there’s an elegance here you won’t find in Imperial swordsmanship. And your name?”
“Nigel As, Magic Department.”
“…Magic Department? Not Swordsmanship?”
“Yes.”
Upon closer inspection of her training uniform, the emblem on her chest wasn’t the Sword and Lion of the Swordsmanship Department—but the Goddess’s Hand and Owl of the Magic Department.
Now that she thought about it, she’d heard that name often…
“So you’re the one Heres brags about so much.”
Every time she visited the faculty lounge, her colleague wouldn’t stop boasting—so much so that even Rone, who rarely remembered names, had it memorized.
“How about transferring departments? I’ll personally train you well. Actually—how about becoming a tactician? With your sharp mind, you’d be perfect. I’ll support you fully.”
Such an offer from Rone was a rare opportunity. Swordsmanship students perked up their ears and eyed Nigel enviously.
“Thank you for the offer, but I have no interest in swordsmanship.”
“Interest often grows once you try. Don’t worry—just say the word anytime!”
“…Yes.”
Frustrated that she lacked interest while random professors kept showering her with attention, Nigel reluctantly nodded.
[This is the timeline separator]Heres, assigned as the Magic Department freshmen’s instructor this year, found every day overflowing with joy.
He’d given up the coveted position of Royal Court Magician—everyone’s dream—to become a professor at Sienia Academy, all to fulfill his childhood dream of guiding young students onto the right path.
But reality had turned out to be vastly, painfully different from his ideals.
His passion to provide high-quality lectures that nurtured students’ daily growth, his vow to treat their troubles as his own and help resolve them, his determination to stand firmly beside the respected dean and fellow professors to support students in making better future choices—all these earnest resolutions…
Now, in his fifth year as a Sienia professor, those initial vows had faded like ink smudged by water.
These days, he simply wished nobody—not students, professors, or even the dean—would ever call for him.
Still, compared to the dean, who only showed up when he felt like it, or the regular faculty meetings openly used by colleagues to dump their own work onto others, he somewhat preferred the students who came running to him—whether causing trouble or disputing grades—with their emotions plainly written on their faces.
No, actually—don’t be fooled by those innocent, youthful expressions.
Heres still wondered: Are these children, who cling so desperately to one or two points on an unofficial academy department ranking, truly the future voice of the Empire?
On his first day of work, when he heard the briefing, Heres had doubted his own ears.
Could it really be true that the bright, well-behaved students who acted nicely (even if just for show) in front of him would, behind his back, split into factions by department and snarl over one or two points?
He’d assumed it was just harmless fun due to boredom in the dorms—but never expected such intense seriousness.
Just recalling how, during his early days on duty, he’d barely managed to pull apart students nearly killing each other over department scores—and then had to send them together to the Temple—still gave him chills.
Even more chilling was the fact that the ringleader of that incident had been one of his own students.
He’d lost count of how many times he’d had to bow his head apologizing while handling the aftermath—since he obviously couldn’t write “department score: 2 points” in the official report.
‘But this year will be different…!’
Those days were over—the days when, blinded by passion, he’d eagerly accepted responsibility for the year full of particularly mischievous students, convinced he could guide them toward goodness.
Because this year, he was in charge of first-year Magic Department students!
Male lead is a Love-Obsessed Merman
When he discovers she has gone, he risks everything to pursue her on land, enduring agonizing pain to transform his tail into human legs…
One-line summary: Male lead chases female lead. The male lead’s love is a bit sick, an invincible love brain.
Synopsis
During a voyage at sea, Jiang Yang accidentally captures a merman.
Servant: I heard that mermen are fierce and brutal.
Jiang Yang looks at the merman obediently rubbing her palm like a puppy: “You call this fierce and brutal?”
Servant: I heard that mermen have no human nature.
Jiang Yang looks at the merman with wet puppy eyes, obsessively calling her ‘A Yang’ like a childish infant: “You call this having no human nature?”
With great difficulty, she releases the merman back into the sea and returns to shore.
Who would have thought that in less than half a month, the merman, who should have been freely wandering in the South China Sea, would shed his scales, endure the pain of losing his tail, transform into human legs, and come ashore to find her?
He kneels at her feet, rubbing her palm, with merman tears rolling down: “A Yang, don’t abandon me.”
_____
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Chapter Comments (1)
The praise for Nigel is growing at the academy; let’s see how this highly talented girl fares there and develops a good relationship with Noah.
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