novelraw Chapter 235 : Chapter 235
Chapter 235 : Chapter 235
Volume 4, Chapter 23 – Diderlay’s Approval
Divine Princess Hall, Class A.
Wenfu tried her absolute best to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, to the point of shrinking her presence.
She swore she had done everything she could—but no matter how much she feigned indifference, or how low she lowered her head, there was no way to hide the obvious fact: she was the only one sitting at her table.
Every other table had several students. Only hers—Sun-Moon Radiance’s table—had just her alone. It was far too conspicuous.
Under the increasingly meaningful gaze of the lecturer, Wenfu, who already had thin skin, felt she couldn’t keep up the act anymore, yet she still forced herself to wear a calm facade.
“Classmate Wenfu.” Finally, after sending multiple eye signals that Wenfu failed to interpret—pretending not to get the hint and trying to bluff her way through—the instructor gave up and directly called her out.
“Ah—teacher, I’m here.” Hearing her name, Wenfu knew she could no longer pretend. She resigned herself and stood up.
“Why is your team so quiet today?” The teacher coughed lightly. Considering the uniqueness of Sun-Moon Radiance, he didn’t put things too bluntly, but having only one member show up was still something he had to address, even if just casually.
Still, he phrased it in very indirect terms.
“Ah? Quiet, you say? But, teacher, since you’re teaching, of course we must remain quiet to show our respect.” Perhaps due to spending too much time with Teresa, even Wenfu had learned how to feign ignorance with righteous-sounding logic.
“Wenfu, I think you misunderstood what I meant.” The teacher’s lips twitched. He hadn’t expected Wenfu—such a well-behaved child—to flip his subtle comments like this.
“I meant, why are you the only one here today?” At this point, his intent was crystal clear. Wenfu knew she could no longer play dumb.
“U-uh… Sorry, teacher. My teammates weren’t feeling well today and asked me to request leave on their behalf.” As she told this lie, Wenfu’s bright eyes darted around, avoiding eye contact with the teacher.
“They’re not feeling well?” Now the instructor’s gaze grew even stranger.
It was normal for Divine Children to catch a cold once or twice a year, but Divine Princesses feeling unwell? That was unusual—enough to raise concerns.
What kind of illness could possibly invade the immune system of a Divine Princess, and all three of them at that?
“Ah—it’s not really a disease! They were just feeling off. Probably a case of… ‘early-semester psychological maladaptation syndrome’!” Wenfu quickly invented a term she didn’t even understand herself.
After all that time around Dylin, her nonsense-weaving skills had improved.
“…What kind of condition is that?” The teacher looked increasingly dubious. He’d taught for years and had never heard of such an illness—and the name was oddly specific.
“It’s not a physical illness, meow. A-a supposedly psychological one!” Wenfu continued to bluff. Lacking proper explanation, her voice began to tremble.
“Oh.” The teacher nodded slowly. Though Wenfu had tried everything to cover for them, her little tricks were clearly not enough to fool a seasoned instructor.
Though he didn’t push further, he still required the three absentees to write a report explaining their absence—or else risk losing academic credit.
At Coleman Academy, leave requests weren’t easily approved—especially without a clear and valid reason.
—
By evening, the three girls who’d spent a night and half a day in the Witch’s Forest had finally returned to the dorms, having gotten their full value from the room they rented.
Back in the dorm, they found Wenfu already there, having finished a full day of classes and now doing homework at her desk.
She relayed the teacher’s message.
“Besides explaining your absence, each of you needs to write a 3,000-character statement… meow, I’m really sorry…”
“As expected, it’s not that easy to get leave.” Felicia rubbed her forehead.
Anyone requesting leave at the start of term was bound to be suspicious. Their instructor wasn’t wrong to question them—especially if he found out they had missed class because they were out drinking all night. That would just make things worse.
“Three thousand characters… That’s way too much. Looks like I’ll have no time to train today.”
Even though Felicia was good with words, writing a 3,000-character repentance essay was excessive.
Honestly, what kind of deep repentance could one possibly write over a bit of drinking? It wasn’t like they had committed murder. At best, she could reflect briefly—any more would just turn into meaningless filler.
Long-winded apology letters existed even in this world. Their true purpose wasn’t to help you understand your mistake but to punish you, so you’d hesitate before repeating it.
Who could possibly write 1,000+ words of genuine, heartfelt remorse over drinking too much?
Astrid didn’t comment. In her eyes, those who did wrong must accept punishment—just like how she regularly prayed before the statue of the Elf Mother Goddess.
Everyone had to take responsibility for their actions.
As for Teresa—She appeared indifferent. After dinner, she returned to her room and pulled out a form.
It wasn’t a repentance form, but this semester’s practical course proposal form.
The gap between first and second years at Coleman Academy wasn’t based on time—but on performance and passing exams.
The promotion test from Year 1 to Year 2 had never changed:
A seven-day survival trial in Ruglian, home of the Demon Race.
By setting their semester project in Ruglian, they could complete both the practical course and the promotion requirement. In any case, they couldn’t avoid going to Ruglian.
Teresa had every intention of entering Ruglian again. But there was something that needed to be acknowledged—Ruglian was no longer what it once was.
Ever since the Forest of Gluttony vanished, Ruglian’s internal ecosystem had changed drastically—like the invasion of a foreign species.
The recent rampages by Beastmen were proof enough. A once-stable Ruglian was starting to resemble Gotham. Clearly, something was seriously wrong.
Teresa wanted to turn this into a research topic—a new direction for her academic focus this term.
Of course, the report was written using Dylin’s notes and tone.
With an active research proposal underway, a student could officially skip classes—no teacher could object.
Once she finished drafting the proposal, Teresa changed into Dylin’s form and headed to the academy’s central administration hall. As always, she was greeted by the familiar bald administrator.
“What? A research proposal?!” The bald mentor thought he’d misheard. “This early? It’s not even midterm yet! Research proposals aren’t even open yet!”
“What’s the meaning of this? You want to begin your semester’s practical course early?”
Seeing Dylin’s smiling but silent expression, he glanced at the report—and was utterly shocked by the research title.
The recent unrest in Ruglian had thrown Coleman City into a state of anxiety. And now Sun-Moon Radiance wanted to head into Ruglian at this exact moment.
“Even if your practical course has started, this isn’t something first-years should be doing,” he said, baffled. “Even if you did defeat Twilight Ashfire.”
“Sir, whether the research period has started or not, I still have the right to submit this report. Submission is one thing—approval is another, correct?”
“Your proposal won’t be approved.”
But Dylin remained unfazed. His job was to submit—whether it passed or not would be revealed tomorrow.
“These youngsters… truly fearless.” Watching Dylin leave, the bald mentor didn’t know whether to sigh or admire them.
But as a clerk at the administration hall, he couldn’t ignore a submitted report. He simply forwarded it through official channels.
—
The next morning, at breakfast.
Ever since that incident, apart from Teresa, who remained unaware, the other two girls had clearly been affected.
Even while eating, Felicia would occasionally glance toward Teresa, and Astrid would avert her eyes after looking at her once, deep in thought.
Yimi, sharp as ever, noticed it too. It seemed Teresa was the only one acting as usual—no change at all.
Felicia still had faint dark circles under her eyes. Clearly, the repentance essay had tormented her, along with the lack of sleep from the day before.
Astrid, however, looked calm and refreshed—typical of an Elf, who didn’t need much sleep.
“Felicia, how’s the apology letter going?” Wenfu asked.
“Exactly 3,003 characters, punctuation included. Barely made it.” Felicia poked at the food in her tray. “Murdered my brain cells.”
“I finished.” Astrid replied succinctly, as expected of a model student—she would never skip a required assignment.
“Apology letter? Ah-la, I forgot to write it.” Teresa stretched lazily, looking completely unconcerned.
“Ehh?! Teresa, then the teacher—”
“You girls don’t know yet?” Teresa waved the official report, approved first thing that morning.
“Starting today, we don’t need to attend class anymore.”
“If we don’t go to class, what apology letters are there to write?”
“...A practical research topic?” Yimi’s little brows furrowed. “But isn’t it too early in the term for that?”
“Of course. But we got special permission from the Headmaster.”
“You mean… Diderlay??”
“Mm-hmm. That’s right.”
Sometimes, having connections saves you a lot of trouble. For example, this research proposal went directly to Diderlay and was approved personally.
In this regard, Diderlay was very open-minded—unlike some old-fashioned elders who refused to let juniors take risks. He gave them a swift, cheerful green light.
He even left a handwritten note on the approval: Wishing you all a safe journey in Ruglian.
“Wow, Teresa, you were received personally by Headmaster Diderlay? So jealous, meow~”
“Hm? What’s there to be jealous about?”
“You don’t know? Headmaster Diderlay is a titan in the field of alchemy! Not only that, he’s also made brilliant contributions to medical science, enchantment theory, Divine Authority studies, world principles, and more! He’s a scholarly legend respected across all nations!” Wenfu’s eyes sparkled as she spoke.
“In my homeland, we still use the medical systems and alchemical formulas created by Diderlay. My mom says, ever since the demihuman nations adopted his systems, the survival rate for severe illnesses has tripled—or more!”
“Diderlay offered all that knowledge and those recipes to the world for free! He’s truly a noble and selfless person!”
So did Diderlay have such achievements?
Teresa didn’t remember much of the past. She only recalled Diderlay being one of the Elf elders—not particularly important. In fact, it was possible she’d never even met him before.
Of course, that might just be due to her incomplete memory. But from Diderlay’s reaction, he seemed to have never met her either—not even as royalty.
Still…
Teresa wondered—what if Diderlay had met her in the past, but was deliberately pretending not to know her now? The implication would be obvious.
That said, she was sure he really hadn’t met her before.
Maybe she was overthinking it. He had done nothing but help—dedicated himself to mending relations between the Gold and Moon Elves—and yet she remained wary. That made her feel a little guilty.
Still, for safety’s sake, she didn’t plan to reveal everything to Diderlay—even if he seemed trustworthy.
There was simply too much at stake.
She regretted not asking Bilodis for more information last time she returned to the Sacred Tree of the Elves—at least about the current Moon Elf elder. That would’ve helped her identify the traitor.
If she were a traitor, what would she do? Where would she hide? What places would seem safest to a traitor’s eyes?
These were hard questions. Without knowing the mole’s motivation, Teresa didn’t even know where to begin.