The Principal accepted my greeting with a bright, predatory smile. Up close, her two-toned hair—white on the outside and cherry-blossom pink on the inside—seemed to shimmer with its own internal light. She was a beauty, certainly, but she radiated the kind of sharp, unstable energy common to those who had climbed the treacherous ladder of the magical hierarchy.
"Yes, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Ludger," she said, her voice dropping into a more intimate, melodic tone. "Are you feeling alright? I was quite panicked when I heard your train was caught in a terrorist incident. It's been a long time since we've appointed a new Senior Professor; it would have been a terrible blow to our reputation if you'd been lost before your first day, wouldn't it?"
I noted the way she prioritized the Academy's "face" over my survival. It didn't surprise me. Anyone who reached the Sixth Rank was bound to be a little twisted. My own teacher back in the borderlands had been no different.
"I am intact," I replied, my voice a steady, cool baritone. "The Knights of Cold Steel arrived in time to handle the worst of it."
"Oh, that's a relief." She leaned forward, her golden eyes scanning my face with a lingering, curious gaze. "I've only seen your file on paper until now. You're quite tall and decent-looking in person. I suspect the students will have a very... passionate... reaction when the semester starts."
"I am here to teach, not to be a spectacle," I said. Internally, I let out a slow sigh of relief. She hadn't met the real Ludger before. The physical discrepancy wouldn't be an issue—for now.
"Of course, of course. Well, take this." She slid a heavy, cream-colored parchment across the mahogany desk. "The contract is for two years. Salary is fixed, and premium accommodation is provided. Please, confirm the details."
I picked up the document. I didn't intend to stay long; my plan was to wait for my contacts in the underworld to forge a new identity and then vanish. I figured the salary would be enough for a few months of room and board.
Then I saw the numbers.
'Wait... what?'
My eyes widened, and I had to fight to keep my jaw from dropping.
30 Imperial Gold Coins per month.
On this continent, a single gold coin was worth a million denars. In terms of the Earth I remembered, thirty million denars was nearly $235,000. For one month.
I calculated the math in a daze. A yearly salary of nearly three million dollars. And that was before the performance bonuses, the research grants, and the end-of-year stipends.
'If I stay here for two years,' I thought, my throat suddenly dry, 'I'll walk away with the equivalent of ten billion won. I could retire to a private island and never see a mana-stone again.'
"Is it to your liking?" the Principal asked, watching me with an amused glint in her eyes.
"It is... acceptable," I managed to say, folding the contract with a hand that wanted to tremble.
"Excellent. Then let's take care of each other, Mr. Ludger."
I shook her hand. Her skin was cool, and her grip was surprisingly firm. I kept my poker face locked tight, even as my mind was screaming. Deceiving, bluffing, and keeping my head in a crisis—that was my specialty. I had just landed the most high-paying "fake job" in history.
The Fortress of Solitude
Wilford led me to my assigned housing. I had expected a dormitory room; I was given a two-story fairy-tale cottage on the edge of the Academy's forest. It was a masterpiece of Victorian architecture, complete with a garden and a brass-fitted laboratory.
"The semester begins in three weeks," Wilford said, bowing at the door. "Use this time to settle in and prepare your curriculum. I shall return if you have need of me."
I watched him depart in his steam-golem carriage. The moment he was out of sight, I entered the house and locked the door.
The interior was spotless. Polished wood, velvet furniture, and a bathroom with a clawfoot tub that looked like it belonged to a duke. I collapsed onto the sofa, the weight of the day finally hitting me.
'I'm an Academy teacher,' I whispered to the empty room. 'A fake teacher at the best school in the Empire. This is like riding a tiger—the moment I slip, I'm dinner.'
But I couldn't run. Not yet. My real face had been seen by the police and the knights. If "Ludger Chelysie" disappeared now, they would hunt me to the ends of the earth. I had to play the part.
I stood up and grabbed the suitcase I had "inherited" from the real Ludger. I carried it up to the master bedroom on the second floor, drawing the curtains tight.
I checked the lock. As I expected, it was protected by a high-level security magic circle. A standard thief would have triggered a self-destruct spell the moment they touched the brass latch.
'Sensitive about his secrets, weren't you, Ludger?'
I didn't have my specialized tools, so I had to improvise. I took a stick of incense, lit it with a tiny [Pyro] spark from my fingertip, and heated the metal lock until it glowed a dull orange. Then, I slammed a cold, wet towel against the brass.
Sshhh!
The metal shrieked as it contracted violently. It was a trick of science, not magic. In that split second of physical distortion, the meticulously engraved magic circle warped.
I didn't miss the opening. I surged my own mana into the core of the distorted circle, "hacking" the spell's logic before it could reset.
Click.
The lock fell open.
Most wizards looked down on science as "peasant logic," which made them blind to simple thermal expansion. I opened the lid, expecting to find textbooks or research notes.
Instead, I found a black envelope sealed with wax depicting a headless snake. Beneath it lay a stack of forged passports, a collection of lethal-looking glass vials, and a notebook written in a code I recognized from my days in the military intelligence units of Utah.
My blood ran cold.
'The real Ludger Chelysie wasn't just a professor,' I realized, picking up the black envelope. 'He was a sleeper agent.'
I broke the seal and read the first line. My "fake job" had just become a death sentence.