You Must Never Poke at a Professor, Even If They're Wearing Rags

Chapter 13

The rooftop garden of the College of Liberal Arts building.

For now, it was empty, so I took a seat there.

It was certainly a spot where it wouldn't be strange for someone to show up at any time, but I had no other choice.

If I started poking around the secluded corners on the ground, I'd definitely run into the saintess.

"Sigh, I'm really an idiot. There's no super-idiot this stupid, even among idiots."

I leaned against the railing and tore at my hair.

The deadly mistake I realized right after escaping Iris's lab was painfully obvious in hindsight.

I hadn't asked the most important thing.

'Where's the private lab, and where's the key?'

If I'd asked that, I could've packed my things and moved in today, hiding out right away.

And go back now to ask?

Absolutely not.

Who was supposed to handle that awkwardness? Me? Or the professor I detained for thirty minutes?

And what if she remembered my face?

"Ugh, damn my fate."

I lay down on a bench, hoping to catch even a short nap before class, and clasped my hands toward the sky.

"I pray, I pray."

I didn't have a religion, but this was when you went looking for God.

"Please, when I ask tomorrow, I hope she'll say, 'Oh my, everything's ready, so go ahead and use it starting today.'"

Whoooosh—

It felt like the wind was hearing my prayer.

"As for the location, some secluded annex where not even a single rat was around would be fine. Next to a storeroom would do too, so please, somewhere quiet."

And one especially important option.

"Please make it very, very far from the professor's private lab. At least a one-kilometer radius away—no exceptions."

If I got any more entangled, I didn't think my heart would survive.

A few options could be left out. The view could be awful, and I could tolerate a little mold.

But 'immediate move-in' and 'distance from the professor's lab' were absolutely nonnegotiable.

Please!

* * *

The Second Greenhouse Garden, the venue for Intro to Herbology.

Sunlight poured through the glass ceiling, and the air was thick with the scent of all kinds of herbs.

On the syllabus, there was exactly one line: [The course aims to help students understand the basic concepts of medicinal herbs.]

In Korea or here, tenured professor bastards really were all the same when it came to scribbling a terrible syllabus.

Murmurs swelled.

"Look over there, she's here."

"They say Professor Iris even came out to greet him personally?"

The looks treating me like a barbarian somehow felt different from yesterday.

How should I put it.

Yesterday, it felt like the sort of glance that would stop at 'annoying and irritating,' but today it was several steps nastier than that.

It was because of jealousy and suspicion.

"How can someone that ignorant become Professor Iris's disciple?"

"Didn't he even solve some huge problem? Maybe he just lucked into it."

"I'm sure the professor made a mistake. Magic, of all things, for a barbarian like that."

Honestly, I'd rather just be insulted. These snake-like stares were really choking the air out of me.

I tried my best to act unfazed and walked toward a corner seat in the greenhouse.

In the meantime, two especially piercing gazes stabbed into the back of my head.

One was Elisia.

She was resting her chin in her hand and staring straight at me.

'This is insane, seriously.'

Why the hell was she even in the same class?

Unlike the other students, there was no malice in it at all; it was pure curiosity, and that made it even more burdensome.

I wanted to erase the words practically written all over her face: 'What on earth is that man?'

And the other one.

Hector.

If looks could kill, I'd already have had my corpse desecrated.

Hostility bordering on murderous intent blazed in his eyes.

'No, seriously, why is that bastard Hector acting up when he's a knight?'

If he were a mage, I could at least understand it.

Why is a sword-wielding guy acting like this because he wants a mage disciple's spot?

'I really don't get it.'

Unless he was doing this because of what happened at the incinerator, that would be a legendary grudge in its own right.

Surrounded by all those malicious stares, I was starting to feel dizzy.

'Stop harboring snake-like spite, you crazy bastards. I'm seriously about to have a panic attack.'

If I collapsed foaming at the mouth, people would just spread the rumor that 'the barbarian had a seizure in class' again.

Suddenly, a scene from the original novel came to mind.

The special panic-attack remedy that the heroine Lily had made for Hector's little sister, that frail little weakling of a character.

What were the ingredients for that again?

Faint bits of text floated around in my head.

'Purple evening primrose? No. Blue morning glory? Red starflower?'

My memory was hazy.

The only thing I was sure of was that it was a combination of [color] + [sun/moon/star] + [flower].

If I knew that much, I'd make some for myself later, or something.

"Damn it, why is my life so tangled up that I'm already worrying about panic-attack medicine?"

Should I count this as lucky or unlucky?

I tried to escape reality by standing in the very corner of the students' crowd, facing the wall.

It was then.

Thud, thud!

With rough footsteps crunching over the dirt floor, a woman with an extraordinary presence walked in from the greenhouse entrance.

Healthy, deeply tanned skin.

Muscular, solid forearms.

She wore a loose leather one-piece dress that fell to her ankles, with a dirt-stained leather apron layered over it.

And on her head was a black cowboy hat with a wide brim.

It was such a hip outfit it practically screamed, 'This is what the empire's New Woman workwear looks like!' with her whole body.

She grinned.

"Nice to meet you, freshmen."

Her voice was gravelly and very charming.

"I am Viscountess Müller, and I will be in charge of your Intro to Herbology class."

Oh.

I like this professor.

And that also meant everyone except me was probably thinking the exact opposite.

"…Is she really a professor?"

"Seems like it."

"Goodness, it's a little… lacking in dignity…"

To the refined aesthetic standards of noble young lords and ladies, Viscountess Müller's fashion was more than a little terror-inducing.

But my impression was the exact opposite.

'That's stylish, isn't it?'

I folded my arms and nodded.

That wasn't tacky.

The texture of that leather apron worn so casually yet so chic, and the hat that maximized practicality without losing any style.

That was a forward-thinking workwear look only the leather workshop owners in Seongsu-dong from my past life could have pulled off.

That was exactly the kind of thing I liked.

'That lady's got style.'

But then.

Just as I was admiring her striding toward us, a bad premonition crept up my spine.

'Wait a second.'

There was no way a character this distinct could be an extra, was there?

Extra professors usually get described as Bald Professor No. 1, Strict Professor No. 2, and that's the end of it.

For a character design this detailed, though.

"A professor dressed like that? That's ridiculous."

The moment I heard the student next to me grumble, faint bits of original-story data flashed brightly in my head.

[The eccentric herbology professor appointed this year.]

[The heroine Lily's hidden ally.]

[The provider of the key ingredient for the panic-attack medicine: 'purple evening primrose, blue morning glory, red starflower, or whatever the hell it was'.]

'……Ah, right.'

I sighed inwardly.

So this was that person.

I knew it for sure.

An extremely important supporting character.

That was the moment one more name was added to my list of people to avoid.

'Damn it, everywhere I go there's a named character.'

This school really wasn't a place for extras to survive.

I erased my presence as much as possible and quietly slipped to the very back of the student crowd.

Then Viscountess Müller slightly lifted the brim of her hat and opened her mouth.

"I should say a word before class starts."

Her voice was very rough.

When the students' murmuring didn't die down, she gave a faint snort and went on.

"You may be surprised by my rather unconventional attire, but let me make one thing clear: I was invited here as a full professor, not a part-time lecturer."

Full professor.

Idiots who didn't understand the weight of that word were still whispering.

"How can a full professor dress like this…"

"Tell me about it."

Tsk. These foolish bastards.

Are they really that clueless?

I already had a bad feeling about this.

Because the memory of almost getting sent to hell after mouthing off to Professor Iris yesterday was still vivid.

You do not mess with professors.

Even if they're wearing rags.

Viscountess Müller's eyes sharpened.

"If you keep looking at me like I'm a clown instead of a professor, I can make the rest of your school life very unpleasant. Using my authority as a professor, of course."

"……!"

"Can you handle that?"

In an instant, the room went silent as if someone had thrown cold water over it.

The startled students hurriedly bowed their heads.

Seeing that, I clicked my tongue.

'Tsk tsk. Human greed has no end, and they repeat the same mistake.'

No one can win against power.

"Good. Then let's begin class. Everyone, follow me."

As Viscountess Müller led the way, the newly disciplined students followed obediently behind her like a flock of chicks.

I stayed at the very back, moving along like an invisible man clinging to the edge.

*

Where we arrived was the very corner of the greenhouse.

Unlike the entrance, where gorgeous flowers were in full bloom, this place was a wasteland with nothing planted.

Bare ground with the empty dirt floor exposed.

'Why leave such expensive land idle? If you gave it to me, I'd plant potatoes or sweet potatoes beautifully and harvest them. Damn it.'

While I suppressed the blood of a farmer surging in my veins, Viscountess Müller looked over the students and asked a question.

"Now, since this is the first class, let's start lightly with a Q&A."

She pointed to the slick-looking male student standing in the front row.

"Where do you think you can get herbs?"

"Huh? Well… wouldn't merchants at the market sell them?"

A one-dimensional answer.

Viscountess Müller nodded, her expression unchanged. "Good. That's not wrong. Then next student. Where does that merchant get them?"

The girl who was pointed at hesitated and then answered.

"From herb gatherers, I guess? Or professional foragers."

A two-dimensional answer.

"Good. Next student. Then where does the herb gatherer get them?"

"Uh… wouldn't they gather them from a forest or secret land only they knew?"

So far, so good.

Viscountess Müller nodded as if satisfied and tapped the dirt floor with her leather boot.

"Good. Then let's go a little deeper."

Her eyes gleamed sharply.

"Then where does that land get its herbs from?"

"……Pardon?"

The students' gazes wavered.

The question had suddenly started to sound subtly pretentious, unlike the ones before it.

Where does land get herbs from, indeed.

From here on, the nobles' usual 'trying to sound impressive' disease began to flare up.