Chapter 42 " First day at Huntington Academy"

  Late afternoon sunlight filtered through my window, casting long shadows across the room. I hadn’t planned to wake up, but hunger gnawed at my stomach, forcing me out of bed. As I stretched, my gaze landed on the pile of treasure I had yet to sort—gold, gems, and artifacts spilling from their containers, untouched since I brought them here. No time for that now. I needed clothes.

  Tomorrow, I had to attend the academy. Three days absent, and I hadn't even shown up for the opening ceremony. With a sigh, I reached for a wooden box, pried it open, and scooped a handful of gold coins into a pouch. The weight was substantial, nearly filling the bag. I secured it tightly, then stepped outside, hailing a carriage to the Southeast District.

  The moment I arrived, indecision hit me. Rows of upscale boutiques lined the street, each one boasting luxury in its display. To me, they all looked the same—polished wood exteriors, golden lettering, velvet curtains concealing the wealth inside. I didn’t have the patience to browse, so I chose the least crowded one: Henry Bespoke.

  Its dark wooden facade exuded quiet sophistication. The golden letters above the entrance gleamed under the flickering gas lamp, standing out against the dimming sky. The street was hushed, save for the occasional clatter of carriage wheels in the distance.

  I stepped inside. Warmth and the scent of fine fabric enveloped me. The polished wooden floor muffled my steps as I took in the space—rows of tailored suits and coats, rich textiles stacked on towering shelves, an ornate table displaying gloves, silk ties, and cufflinks. A grand chandelier bathed everything in soft, golden light.

  A salesman turned, his gaze sweeping over me from head to toe. His expression tightened—assessing, judging. It wasn’t hard to guess what he was thinking. Before he could even open his mouth, I pulled out my pouch and let it drop onto my palm. The unmistakable jingle of gold filled the space between us. His lips, halfway to forming a dismissive remark, curved into a sudden, practiced smile.

  "Oh! What kind of attire are you looking for, sir?" His tone had shifted from condescension to eager politeness.

  "Formal. Simple. Nothing extravagant," I said.

  He nodded quickly, moving toward a rack of clothing. Moments later, he returned, arms full of noble attire—embroidered coats with gold accents, intricate patterns, and flowing capes. Regal, refined, and exactly what I didn’t want.

  "No," I said. "Just formal. Not elegant."

  His brows furrowed. "You mean… servant’s clothes?"

  I exhaled sharply, patience thinning. "Show me everything you have. I’ll decide."

  With a slight bow, he turned and fetched a new selection. These were different—refined but understated. A black vest with a gothic edge, sharp and practical. A navy-blue one with subtle silver stitching, carrying an air of quiet sophistication. Both noble enough to blend in, yet far from flashy.

  I ran my fingers over the fabric, weighing my options. These would do.

  "I’ll take five sets in different colors," I said.

  The salesman hurried off to arrange my order. I turned toward the exit, my pouch significantly lighter—but at least now, I’d look the part.

  I left the shop with my hands full of bags. Tomorrow would be my first day attending the academy, but honestly, I didn't feel much about it. The education system in this world was far less advanced than the one in my original world. What truly excited me was the chance to access the Huntington Academy Library—even the smallest clue on how to return to my world would be a great help.

  The Next Day

  I arrived early, waiting for Arthur. I doubted he was already inside the academy, so I planned to meet up with him and Sarah before heading in. However, to my surprise, Sarah arrived first.

  “Hmm? Hey, Sarah. Good morning,” I greeted, a warm smile spreading across my face.

  She blinked at me a few times before tilting her head in confusion.

  “Caelan? Is that you?”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? Don’t tell me you didn’t recognize me?”

  “Well… you look different. Your clothes, your hair—”

  “Ah, I bought some new clothes yesterday. I figured I’d get into trouble with the noble students if I didn’t dress properly. And my hair was getting long, so I had it cut.”

  Sarah gave me a once-over before breaking into a grin. “You look really handsome. You were already good-looking before, but today… even the nobles might have a hard time competing with you.”

  I chuckled. “You’re flattering me too much.”

  Before Sarah could reply, a familiar voice cut in.

  “Sarah, who’s that?”

  Arthur’s tone carried a hint of jealousy. Since Sarah was standing in front of me, blocking his view, he couldn’t see me clearly. When she finally stepped aside, Arthur’s eyes widened. Like Sarah, he blinked as if making sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

  “Caelan?” he asked, his voice uncertain.

  “Good morning, Arthur,” I said with a nod.

  “I didn’t recognize you right away. You look… different.”

  “Let’s go. We’ll be late,” I said, motioning toward the carriage.

  Both of them nodded, and we boarded a carriage headed toward the northeast district.

  On the Way to the Academy

  Sarah was the first to break the silence. "We only haven’t seen you for five days, but you’ve changed so much. We almost didn’t recognize you."

  "Yeah," Arthur agreed.

  "It’s just my clothes," I said. "Aside from that, nothing’s changed."

  "No, it’s not just the clothes. It’s how you carry yourself," Sarah pointed out.

  "Yeah, it’s like you’ve always dressed this way," Arthur added.

  I raised an eyebrow. "Did I overdo it? Should I wear something more plain?"

  Arthur shook his head. "No. Compared to most of our schoolmates, your outfit is actually quite modest."

  Sarah sighed. "Yeah, nobles dress like royalty. Sometimes, I wonder if they attend the academy to learn or just to show off."

  Arthur smiled. “Nobles don’t just come to the academy to study—especially the girls. Many attend to secure a marriage partner. For noblemen, it’s different. Most are second or third sons, the ones who won’t inherit a title or position. Their families send them here to make connections or find another path to success.”

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  The cobblestone streets leading to the academy pulsed with the steady rhythm of countless carriages. Each gleamed with wealth—intricate carvings, shimmering gold accents—a stark contrast to the plain wooden carts of the commoner districts. Since we didn’t have a private carriage, and public ones weren’t allowed in this district, we had to walk from the southeast entrance to the academy gates.

  Few students traveled on foot. It was clear that nobles dominated the student body. The start of the academic year marked the end of summer, and with it, a shift in my life.

  "Alright, see you at break time!" Sarah said, flashing a quick smile before heading to her classroom.

  "See you," Arthur replied.

  I simply nodded.

  Sarah had been placed in a different class due to her lower exam scores. Arthur had mentioned earlier that he and I would be in the same class.

  And so, my first day at Huntington Academy began.

  Arthur and I entered the grand classroom, where many students were already seated—some waiting in bored silence, others staring ahead, and a few chatting quietly on the side. High, arched ceilings, Gothic windows, and dark wooden walls gave the room the air of a university hall. Bookshelves, framed portraits, and academic insignia lined the walls, while a massive chalkboard loomed behind a sturdy podium. Deep blue curtains added a touch of prestige, though the heavy atmosphere lingered.

  Arthur led me toward the back. As we walked, I felt the weight of curious gazes. It was understandable—this was their first time seeing me.

  "Caelan, that’s your seat," Arthur said, gesturing toward a desk.

  "Ah, okay. Thanks, Arthur," I replied, settling in.

  Before I could fully adjust, a young man approached. He had curly brown hair, striking blue eyes, and wore a crisp white dress shirt beneath a tailored blue and brown vest, its intricate patterns accentuated by a delicate blue floral brooch.

  "Hey, Arthur, who's this?" he asked, his tone light but curious.

  Arthur turned to him with an easy smile. "This is Caelan—the friend I told you about. The one who got a perfect score on the entrance exam. He had an emergency and missed the first three days."

  Recognition flickered in the young man’s eyes. "Oh, right. I remember now. Everyone was wondering about the top scorer who never showed up." He gave me an appraising look before offering a nod. "I'm Corvan, by the way. I live in the Northeast District too."

  "Caelan," I said simply.

  Nearby, a group of girls whispered among themselves, making no effort to lower their voices.

  "So, he’s a commoner?" one murmured.

  "Such a shame—he’s cute," another sighed.

  "But if he’s rich, it’s fine. At least he can afford luxury."

  "Didn’t you hear? He lives in the Northeast District. That means he’s just a commoner. Better than a peasant, sure, but nowhere near the wealth of high-ranking merchants."

  Corvan scoffed, crossing his arms. "Hmph. That’s just how they are—status and wealth mean everything to them."

  "Ignore them, Caelan," Arthur said with a reassuring glance.

  "Yeah," I muttered.

  Just then, a familiar figure entered the room—the same professor who had administered our entrance exam. If I recall correctly, his name was Elias.

  "Good morning, everyone," the professor greeted as he stepped up to the podium. "Since it looks like everyone’s here, I’ll take attendance."

  He began calling names, his voice steady and authoritative.

  "Raben Salavenco."

  "Present."

  "Marie Dowenche."

  "Present."

  "Miller?"

  The list continued, and a pattern became clear—students with surnames were nobles, while those without were commoners. Even so, our class was still dominated by foreign aristocrats.

  Then, he called my name.

  "Caelan."

  I raised my hand. His sharp gaze settled on me, but instead of questioning my absence, he simply nodded.

  "It’s good to see that your emergency has been taken care of," he remarked.

  So, Arthur had covered for me. Since meeting him, I’d already owed him so much.

  I glanced at him and mouthed, Thank you.

  He smiled and gave a small nod in return.

  The lecture began, covering the basics of economics. I listened as Professor Elias spoke, but his explanations felt almost elementary—simplified concepts that barely scratched the surface of what I already knew. Compared to the intricate economic models I was used to, this was like reading a child's primer.

  Still, I played along, nodding occasionally as if deep in thought.

  Two long hours later, class finally ended.

  "In our next lesson, we will discuss taxation." The professor announced while gathering his notes.

  I was about to leave when he suddenly called my name.

  "Caelan."

  I turned back. "Hmm? Yes, Professor?"

  "Since today was your first day attending class, if there's anything you didn't understand, feel free to visit my office," he said kindly.

  I felt a pang of guilt. He was a good professor, and I had barely been paying attention.

  "Ah, sure. Thank you, Professor," I replied.

  He nodded once before leaving.

  "Professor Elias is really kind," Arthur said as we stepped out.

  "Yeah, I didn’t expect that," I admitted.

  Our next class was swordsmanship, held in a separate training hall reserved for male students.

  "Girls aren’t included," Arthur added. "They have their own class—embroidery."

  I raised a brow. "Embroidery?"

  "Yeah. Sarah hates it."

  I chuckled, imagining her frustration.

  "Let’s go," Arthur said, leading the way.

  We walked to the academy’s training grounds, and I was surprised by what I saw. I never expected a place like this within the academy.

  The ground was paved with large stone tiles. Several wooden training dummies stood in neat rows, clearly meant for martial arts or swordsmanship practice. To the left, weapon racks displayed an assortment of training swords and other equipment. A wooden barrel nearby likely contained extra weapons

  A set of stairs led to an elevated wooden platform overlooking the training area. Crates and barrels were stacked on this upper level, probably for storage.

  A commanding voice broke through the murmurs of students.

  "Is everyone here?"

  I turned to see the instructor.

  He wore a dark green jacket with gold accents, a sash, and a sword at his side. His sharp features and wavy dark hair gave him an air of quiet authority.

  "Get your practice swords."

  One by one, the students retrieved wooden training swords. I followed Arthur’s lead, mimicking his actions as I observed the others.

  Across the training grounds, students were striking at wooden dummies with their blunted swords. The instructor watched them closely, his own sword in hand.

  I copied their movements. It wasn’t difficult—one glance was enough for me to memorize the routine and execute it on my own.

  Arthur wielded his sword with passable form, but I could tell he wouldn’t last in a real fight. His stance was too rigid, and his strikes were slow. Corvan, on the other hand, was worse—his grip was unsteady, his swings wild and uncoordinated, as if he had never held a weapon before.

  The noble students, however, were in a league of their own. Their footwork was fluid, their strikes precise, their movements honed through years of private instruction. While commoners struggled just to grasp the basics, these young aristocrats had been drilled in swordplay since childhood, their techniques refined under the guidance of seasoned knights and master swordsmen.

  An hour passed before the instructor finally called for a stop.

  "Corvan, Julio, John—you need more practice," he said.

  The three lowered their heads in shame. Then, his gaze fell on me.

  "You," he said, stepping closer. "This is your first time in class, isn't it? You must be the student who got a perfect score on the entrance exam."

  He studied me for a moment before nodding.

  "You memorized the movements just by watching once. That’s very impressive. Your form is refined and precise—beautiful, even. I have high expectations for you. Great job."

  I hadn’t intended to impress him—I was simply doing what came naturally.

  "Thank you, sir. I'll do my best. Please guide me," I said, bowing slightly.

  Just then, I felt an intense gaze on my back.

  I turned and met the eyes of a young man with vibrant red hair and sharp red eyes. He was watching me intently, his expression unreadable.

  I didn’t know why he was staring at me like that, so I simply ignored him.

  I accidentally deleted 23 chapters when I cleared my phone, thinking they were backed up—but they weren’t. So now I have to rewrite them again, which means updates will be slower than before.

  Sorry for the delay, and thanks for your patience! I’ll do my best to catch up.