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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Her First-Meeting Burns Are Impeccable
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Leaning comfortably against a pillar with my arms crossed, I replayed yesterday's Crown Prince Louis and Evelyn in my mind, alternating between them.
'Brother's a total stud, sister's a knockout beauty. Their genes are stacked—it's ridiculous. So damn unfair.'
The saying that God is fair is total bullshit.
Looking at those siblings, it's clear God fell asleep mid-customization and botched the sliders.
Of course, cranked all the way to positive.
Like, 'Luck one s... whoops, accidentally a whole sack!!!'—total beneficiaries of that glitch.
Evelyn ignored the cheers and stares around her as if they were a given—or rather, a nuisance—and strode to the front row.
That must be the poise of nobility among nobles, royalty's dignity.
...Pisses me off a bit. If I pretend not to hear, I'm a barbarian; if she does, it's elegance?
"Wow, she's really pretty..."
"The Empire's Jewel—my eyes hurt just looking."
"Can't believe she breathes the same air as us."
I get it now.
This damn looks-obsessed romance-fantasy world.
Spear chuckers would go wild here for real.
But hey, I'll let it slide.
She pulled all the aggro for me!
In fact, no one was looking at me right now.
Even if a monkey does tricks at the zoo, if a superstar suddenly appears next to it, the monkey's just background prop number one.
I stealthily pulled a piece of jerky from my pocket and popped it in my mouth.
*
"Um... Our school's storied history parallels the Empire's founding... Um... You all are the Empire's future, its guiding lights..."
The principal's voice, magnified through a magic amplifier but still mumbled through his reading glasses, droned on drowsily from the podium.
It could've been clearer at least.
The mumbling felt like a wide-area sleep spell.
I stifled a yawn, mouth gaping wide.
"Haaah."
Tears even welled up.
Glancing around, it was a sight.
The freshmen who had sparkly eyes earlier were already zoned out, some standing with souls fully checked out.
'Korea or here, principal speeches are sleeping pills. Universal law.'
Doesn't he see it from up there? Or does he know and do it anyway?
Torture expert, right there.
A guy next to me started nodding off, then headbanging.
I matched his rhythm, subdividing beats in my head to kill the boredom.
Finally, that eternal speech ended, and it was time for faculty intros.
"Next, we introduce our proud faculty."
At the announcer's cue, dozing students stirred awake.
Stern-faced professors ascended the stage one by one, offering greetings.
From the buff Swordsmanship Department's prof to the monocled, stubborn-looking Alchemy one.
Each had their own flair.
But when it was the Magic Department's turn, the announcer looked awkward.
"Regrettably, Professor Iris von Evergarden of the Magic Department is absent due to personal research commitments. We ask for your understanding, freshmen."
The hall buzzed.
I picked at my ear, thinking.
'Who's that, weeaboo bait? Prof skips out, school's pretty lax.'
But kindly, the mustachioed noble guy next to me whispered explanations.
"Oh man, Professor Iris again...?"
"Genius life, huh? Entrance ceremony's beneath her."
"Don't even start. Youngest admission, top graduate, Empire's youngest prof ever—magic prodigy. Hoped to see her face, but she's holed up researching, as expected."
"Rumor says she proved one magic formula without eating for a week, just research."
"Learning under her would be an honor."
Thanks again, Speedwagon!
Handy info get—I'll never sign up for her classes.
This semester's safe too.
Korean classes have profs like 'Han Hyun-ho, Hwang Chun-ho'—hard to remember. Yankees got unique names, easy recall.
Iris von Evergarden?
'Nope, skipped.'
Checked my done registrations—no similar name.
Anal-retentive, inflexible, lost-in-her-own-world type.
The kind who looks at struggling students like idiots: 'Why can't you get this?'
Tangling with high-spec show-offs is just tiring.
Ignoring whatever the profs said, I fiddled with hidden jerky in my pocket.
"With that, the entrance ceremony concludes. Freshmen, please follow your schedules."
Oh.
Finally over.
*
The crowd ebbed out like a receding tide post-ceremony.
Others crammed schedules Tetris-style with noble duties and study zeal from first period, but not me.
'Crazy? 9 AM classes are human rights violations.'
Of course, if Dad heard, my potato farm wouldn't survive.
My ploy: 'Play nice early semester, skip mornings for slacking.'
Court Count's swamped.
Like execs ignoring family.
Endure a month, then daytime arrivals unnoticed.
Already labeled un-noble, so I'll nap mornings carefree at school.
Clomp clomp.
I headed opposite lecture halls, to the academy's remotest spot.
Target: secluded garden corner untouched by feet.
Decent shade, soft grass—not as good as haystacks at my territory barn, but comfy for lounging.
"Ah, perfect spot there."
Far off, lush bushes under a massive ancient tree—prime real estate.
Cozy as my bedroom, heading there when.
Rustle.
Something poked from the bushes.
Wind-swayed, cotton-candy pink hair.
'...Ah, fuck.'
Curse nearly slipped out loud.
I know who.
Impossible not to.
That coloring plastered center of this cursed romance novel cover.
Plus, saw her yesterday at the ball.
Where that smug Crown Prince's gaze skipped Elysia and locked on her.
'Saintess Lily.'
Original heroine, dodging prince's heavy flirting and villainess Elysia's death glare, hiding here obviously.
'Great minds spot prime spots alike.'
But no time to admire.
Tangling with that time bomb's exhausting.
Standing by protagonist gets extras hit by stray shots—industry rule.
'Sneak away quiet. Saw nothing.'
I turned to tiptoe off.
Right then.
Rustle!
"Meow!"
A stray cat rocketed from bushes.
"Ah!"
Then pink-haired girl sprang like a spring chasing it, and.
Locked eyes with me awkwardly fleeing.
Shit.
"..."
"..."
Her pastel mint eyes widened at me.
Eye contact.
Cat-chasing sparkle turned wary.
'Damn it.'
Too late to run, too close to ignore.
Lily looked at me, lips moving.
Her first words from mumbling mouth were shocking.
"Uh... Barbarian...?"
Wow.
Look at her first-meeting burn skills.
She picked "Parne Barbarian" over "Starving Second Son," huh.
Even so, calling me barbarian to my face?
As I gaped to retort.
Gurgle~
A faint, thin sound tickled my ear.
Source: her stomach, right in front.
"..."
"..."
Silence fell.
Lily's face flushed beet red instantly.
She clutched her belly, flustered.
Sigh, human.
I tsked pityingly.
"Calling me barbarian outright on first meet? So rude."
"S-Sorry..."
"Thought Saintess lived on dew, but your tummy clock's brutally honest?"
"S-Sorry! I, uh, skipped breakfast...!"
Lily bowed 90 degrees in panic.
If past-life memory holds, temple life was harsh.
Plus dodging prince, no meal time.
I rummaged my pocket.
Rustle made her flinch back.
Scared barbarian might pull a club.
But out came salty, nutty-smelling brown lump.
"Here, eat this at least."
"P-Pardon...?"
"What? First time seeing jerky?"
I shoved a piece in her hand.
Chew more, nuttier it gets.
Hours of research for this taste.
Lily blankly stared at jerky in her hand.
What-is-this face.
"Since it's from a barbarian, tear it savagely by hand—that's the way. No forks or knives."
"..."
I walked off without reply.
Stay longer, real hassle.
Jerky tossed—call it even. Did my part.
Clomp clomp, from my receding back, tiny sound.
"...Pfft."
Deflating, tiny giggle.
Yesterday villainess Elysia laughed at my blunt talk.
Today Saintess Lily giggles at barbarian drip?
Pattern's off.
'Why do all these heroines crack up at me? Bad vibes.'
Today's luck's rough.
*
I bolted.
Not for life, strategic retreat from hassle.
Deeper bench, thick tree shade—prime spot, plopped down, finally breathed.
"Haa, living's exhausting."
Leaned back, sky-gazed. Sunlight shattered through leaves, dazzling.
Suddenly recalled that pink head.
'Damn pretty.'
Pastel mint pupils.
Idols with color contacts couldn't pull that hue.
Scour US, Canada, Europe whites—no such color. What genes?
Yesterday's villainess Elysia's violet eyes were wild too.
Wondered how anyone resists Elysia for side chick, but.
"Makes sense now."
What is this.
'Top-tier visual showdown.'
That pink head wasn't straight—high-end wave curls, pricey Gangnam salon job.
This romance world's visuals are bountiful.
Men, women—all face welfare recipients.
Except me, plastic surgery VIPs all.
Mid solo hot-or-not judging.
Rustle.
Footsteps below.
Looked down: squirrel staring up.
Brown fur glossy, well-fed fat cat vibe.
"What, hand tame? Scram."
Waved hand—no budge.
Stood on hinds, paws clasped.
Gaze not me—jerky end in my hand.
Sniff sniff.
Nosy pose no joke.
'...What? Carnivore squirrel?'
Thought squirrels acorn crunchers.
Prejudice?
World's got magic, dragons—squirrel munching meat? Sure.
Those beady eyes too sparkly, I surrendered.
"Here. Eat and beat it."
Tore pinky-nail jerky bit, flicked.
Plop!
Squirrel snatched lightning-fast, cheeks ballooning chew.
Then sparkly eyes back at me.
'More.'
Damn.
"Shit, no food left for me—why's everyone after my snacks today?"
Human or beast, all beg food from me.
What am I, cafeteria?
Grumbled, about to pop last jerky when.
Hop hop.
Bush shook, white fluff ball hopped out.
Rabbit.
Plump as hell.
Plopped by squirrel, same nosy stare at jerky.
I paused mid-chew, laughed dryly.
"Ha."
This ain't right.
Stood, pointed.
"Hey, you lunatics! Fuck, you're herbivores! I know you graze grass, asshole!"
Slept through bio, but that's basics.
Rabbits eat carrots, not beef jerky!
But rabbit ignored yell like BGM, raised paw.
'Gimme quick.'
"..."
I facepalmed.