novelraw Chapter 22: Autumn Semester
Chapter 22: Autumn Semester
Several more days passed, and after waiting for the hottest period in Saint Nary to end, continuous rain began to fall. Despite the rain, the oppressive heat stubbornly lingered like a nightmare clinging to every resident of Nary, allowing companies selling cooling magic to make a fortune.
Fortunately, the weather was pleasant on the first day of the autumn semester. Fischer dressed early in his suit, tucked his speech notes into his pocket, and prepared to head to the Royal Academy for the opening ceremony. Starting tomorrow, all schools in Saint Nary would commence classes.
On the tram to the Royal Academy, Fischer's thoughts drifted back to the Witch Research Society case from days prior. The information provided by the informant weighed heavily on his mind.
Since Renée wasn't the Undying Witch he sought, could the witch who had escaped from the Witch Research Society be the one prophesied to inscribe humanity's epitaph? Fischer couldn't be certain, but since this was a potential lead regarding the apocalyptic prophecy, he paid close attention.
With Fischer's assistance, they had largely confirmed that the recent murders were the work of the Witch Research Society. Fischer deduced that the Undying Witch must have fled to Nary, and the society's members had been dispatched to retrieve her—though they likely hadn't succeeded yet.
Fischer wanted to find the witch before the Witch Research Society did, which might require some help from an "old friend."
His thoughts paused as the tram arrived at the station nearest the Royal Academy. Fischer exchanged greetings with fellow passengers and squeezed his way out of the overcrowded tram alongside many students.
The Royal Academy was no longer as deserted as before, where only a few absent-minded researchers roamed. Now, young students from Saint Nary University gathered at the entrance, chatting and laughing in groups. Since it was the opening ceremony of the autumn semester, they all wore identical black formal uniforms.
Fischer, dressed in an elegant Nary suit and gripping his cane, briskly made his way to the ceremony grounds, bypassing numerous professors and researchers who eyed him curiously. He headed straight to the front, where Helson and Damian, also clad in black ceremonial robes, sat in the foremost seats.
Several other deans were present as well. Among the six academy deans, only Helson had escaped Fischer's scathing remarks during his graduation. The rest had received their fair share, and their strained smiles toward this rising academic star were a masterclass in superficial courtesy."Mr. Fischer."
"Fischer..."
Fischer nodded at them and took his seat to Damian's right. On Damian's left sat Helson, who was grinning as he held a box of pastries. He opened it and offered one to Fischer.
"Hey, Fischer, try one of my granddaughter's snowflake cookies. They're delicious!"
"Thank you, Professor."
"Go on, try it! How is it?"
Fischer accepted a white, snowflake-shaped pastry and took a bite—only to nearly gag from the overwhelming sweetness. He forced himself to chew stiffly under Helson's expectant gaze, swallowed with difficulty, and finally replied,
"...Delicious."
"See, Damian? I told you he and my granddaughter are a perfect match!"
"Oh, please. Can't you see he looks like he's chewing wax? Only you and your granddaughter enjoy this kind of thing. Why not just chew raw sugarcane?"
"Oh, heavens! You've wounded me, Damian. I shan't speak another word to you until the ceremony ends!"
Damian crossed his arms in silent defiance, his expression screaming, "I don't want to talk to you either."
Fischer chuckled and quietly checked his wristwatch. Only a few minutes remained before the ceremony began. Behind them, students filed in and took their seats in the middle and back sections, while professors and deans occupied the front rows, followed by researchers further back.
"Everyone! Silence!"
As the time approached, the burly Damian strode onto the stage and yanked the microphone stand upright—evidently unaware it was nailed to the floor. The force sent the nails flying, prompting him to glance down in confusion.
Beside him, Helson stifled a laugh and popped another cookie into his mouth.
Whether it was Damian's commanding voice or his terrifying strength that did the trick, the students and researchers fell silent immediately.
"Today marks the beginning of the autumn semester of the 54th year of Goldline IX. You are all about to embark on a busy and fascinating term... But before officially declaring the start of the new semester, we have invited Mr. Fischer Benavides to deliver the opening address..."
"Oh no! It's the rebel!"
"Good grief, who's he going to insult this time?"
"I thought Damian learned his lesson after the graduation ceremony. The old fool has no shame!"
"Anyone got earplugs?"
While the researchers whispered among themselves, the students were electrified. Most had heard of Fischer's legendary exploits, and for these young scholars still in their academic journeys, nothing was more inspiring than the rebellious, brilliant deeds of a predecessor!
Especially when that predecessor—a handsome young Nary gentleman in a suit—stepped onto the stage, prompting thunderous applause from the students, heating up the atmosphere in the venue.
Amidst the excitement, no one noticed a woman in a pale gold dress and a white sunhat quietly taking a seat in the very last row. Outside the gates, several armed royal soldiers discreetly monitored everyone entering and exiting.
Beneath the sunhat, a pair of gentle golden eyes gazed at the accomplished young Nary scholar on stage.
"Fischer!"
"The legend of the Royal Academy!"
Fischer raised a hand to quiet the enthusiastic students.
"Everyone, it's an honor to be invited back by Principal Damian to stand on this podium, which I know all too well. Frankly, after that day six years ago, I thought I'd never return."
His expression remained calm, but his words drew laughter from the audience.
"Getting to the point—as per tradition, the opening speech should offer advice for your future, whether academic or personal. Today is no different. My theme is: *Capital.*"
"Let me start with a story. In Saint Nary, I have many close friends, one of whom is particularly unique. In one of his accounts, he always keeps 100,000 Nary Euros."
"Despite years of work, he has never touched that money. When I asked why, he said it was his *capital*—the means to boldly tell his boss to 'get lost' if ever mistreated or exploited."
Fischer occasionally glanced at his notes but mostly kept his eyes on the audience. Seeing their amused reactions, he pressed on.
"For an individual, 'capital' represents their intrinsic value—the proof that allows them to stand firm, resist injustice, and remain true to themselves. Just as years ago, when I stood here and declared the deans to be 'relics of a bygone era,' no matter how furious they were, they couldn't deny my academic excellence."
Damian, sitting with his arms crossed, darkened visibly, veins bulging beneath his ceremonial robe. Helson patted his shoulder and whispered,
"Calm down. You invited him."
"..."
Damian took a deep breath and continued glowering at Fischer, who wore a faint smile.
"And just like now, I had assumed those buried relics would at least serve as fertilizer for future generations. Instead, they seem to have only nourished a swarm of flies in the research institute..."
The researchers' expressions darkened to match Damian's. They gritted their teeth under the scrutiny of their juniors, some trembling from the summer heat—or perhaps from withdrawal—their bodies breaking into cold sweats.
"They resent me. They're furious. They want to refute my claims, to denounce my words as false. But when they search their memories, aside from the numbers on their weekly entertainment receipts, they find no academic achievements to counter mine. As I said—they lack *capital.*"
"Of course, I’m not advocating arrogance or recklessness. Rather, I hope each of you uses your limited time to enrich yourselves, to decide the person you wish to become and the path you wish to take—lest you reach a crossroads only to realize you lack the ticket to board."
"I’ve spent a long time criticizing the Royal Academy, but was I condemning its walls, its bricks, its trees? No. What tarnishes its name are the lethargic worms, the stagnant relics who refuse to evolve. But that doesn’t mean *you*—the new generation—must follow suit."
"It’s time for *you*—the youth of today—to decide what the Royal Academy will become. Will it remain a den of indulgence, or will it rise as Saint Nary’s pinnacle of scholarship? No political force, no scheme can decide this. Only *you*—the very fabric of this institution—hold that power."
Fischer lightly crumpled the concluding page of his speech, his gaze sweeping over the ashen-faced researchers, the thoughtful Gryphon Party members, the starry-eyed students... and the golden-haired woman at the very back, who had begun softly applauding.
He paused briefly, crushed the paper in his hand, donned his gentleman's hat, and delivered his final line:
"Students—welcome to the new semester!"
A thunderous ovation followed as he stepped down from the stage.