That afternoon, all regular classes were over.
Most students were heading home, but those who had been dispatched for the ’special class’ were an exception. They still had supplementary classes.
After checking the schedule, Kamibarez flapped her wings, her face flushed with anticipation. ’I’ll wait and go with Simon.’ Both of them were taking Bahil’s General Curses class and were scheduled to attend this supplementary session together.
She was waiting for Simon in front of the Department of Curses building when a voice called her name. "Kamibarez."
Chehekle, the Head Teaching Assistant of Curses, approached. Startled, Kamibarez bowed her head. "Oh, hello, Head Teaching Assistant!"
"I’ll be conducting the supplementary class today. What are you doing out here? Let’s go in together."
"Pardon? Oh, well..." Kamibarez glanced furtively behind her.
Seeing this, Chehekle said, "While we’re at it, I also wanted to talk about your answers on the multiple-choice section of the last performance evaluation."
"Oh, yes! In that case..."
Chehekle led Kamibarez toward the classroom.
’Vwoooom!’
Hiding at the end of the hall, another Chehekle could be seen activating black magic. She was the real one. ’What am I doing? I’m sorry, Kamibarez,’ she thought with a heavy sigh.
Just as she sent Kamibarez off, Simon entered the building right on cue. The real Chehekle quickly stepped forward to greet him. "Simon."
"Ah, Assistant Chehekle!" Simon approached, greeting her warmly.
"I heard you returned safely from the special class. That’s a relief."
"Thank you. I hope you’ve been well, too."
"I have, thanks to your concern. Shall we head up together?"
"Yes!"
Simon and Chehekle chatted as they climbed the stairs. They were comfortable with each other, having gotten acquainted during the incident with Bahil at the beginning of the semester.
"Huh?"
However, Chehekle was heading somewhere different from the classroom listed on the schedule. Realizing this, Simon asked, "Isn’t the supplementary class on the third floor?"
"Yes, that’s right," she replied with a deep sigh.
"Actually, Professor Bahil said he would instruct you personally."
Simon blinked.
"Professor Bahil himself?"
A short while later, Simon stepped into the designated classroom and looked around in utter bewilderment.
’What is this place?’
This wasn’t a classroom; it was a lavish, high-end restaurant. The magnificent interior was filled with a fragrant aroma, and on a stage, instruments floated in midair, playing classical music without a single musician in sight.
In this spacious hall, which could have easily hosted a banquet for high nobility, Simon sat at a lone desk with his textbook and quill arranged before him. A blackboard stood at the front, the only indication that this fine establishment was, in fact, about to be used for a lesson.
"Water, sir."
A waiter approached, placed a glass on Simon’s table, and poured him some water. With a stiff expression, Simon managed a thank you.
As he was moistening his lips, still dazed, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hall.
At last, the professor of Curse Studies, Bahil Amagar, appeared. He was dressed in an immaculate suit that perfectly matched the atmosphere.
"Welcome to my classroom, Simon," Bahil announced, a wide smile spreading across his face as he stood before the blackboard.
Simon offered a troubled one in return.
"...Professor Bahil, what is all this?"
"As you can see, it’s a makeup class."
Simon was asking precisely because it looked nothing like a makeup class. He wet his parched lips with water. The moment he took a sip, the waiter promptly reappeared, murmured, "Water, sir," and refilled his glass.
"Well then, let’s begin," Bahil said. At his gesture, the waiter exited. The professor seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood. He wheeled a blackboard closer and opened a textbook.
"Please turn to page 145."
The class proceeded more normally than expected.
"Tell me about the Lotos Formula," Bahil began.
It was a topic Simon had studied in the North. His eyes sharpened as he answered, "It designates the range of a weakening magic circle and prevents corrosion on the circle’s exterior."
"And the Panthera Formula."
"Ah... that."
He couldn’t remember. Simon clutched his forehead, lost in thought, before bowing his head.
"My apologies, I can’t quite recall."
’I’m going to get scolded.’
It was bad enough that he had missed regular classes for the special assignment, but now even the prep work he’d managed was proving to be subpar.
However...
"It’s quite all right," Bahil said. Though typically strict when it came to curses, he was surprisingly smiling. "For a student, memorization is the simplest form of labor. Your true value lies elsewhere. I have no reason to be angry just because you failed to memorize a few things that anyone could with a little effort."
’Why is he being so lenient today?’
As Simon stared blankly, the professor gestured and continued, "Still, it is in the textbook, so I expect you to have it all memorized by our next class."
"Yes! My apologies!"
"More importantly..."
Simon looked up.
Bahil set the closed textbook on the desk, his eyes gleaming.
"You seem to have something on your mind."
Simon froze, momentarily speechless. Bahil nodded with a knowing expression.
"Speaking of which, I heard the third-year, Aizel, has returned. What has become of the student council presidency?"
His tone suggested he could see right through him. Simon swallowed hard and answered truthfully that it would be decided by a duel after the final exams.
"That’s hardly a great concern."
Bahil’s reaction was one of dismissiveness. He twirled the chalk in his hand before tapping a point in the very center of the blackboard.
"I can make you win."
Simon’s eyes widened.
"Pardon?"
"The strongest of the third-years, Aizel Bringer. I can ensure your victory. That much is simple."
Simon was flustered. Did this man even realize what he was saying?
"On one condition."
Bahil, who had been facing the blackboard, smirked.
"Major in Curse Studies, Simon Polentia."
Simon’s expression froze.
"Pro-Professor. Excuse me, but are you suggesting I change my major—?"
"I," Bahil interrupted, turning away from the blackboard to face Simon completely. "As an educator, Simon Polentia, I find your situation a pity. Ah, of course, I have no intention of insulting the brilliant achievements you’ve made in Summoning Studies. It is an undeniable fact that Professor Aaron’s teachings made you the Student Council President you are today."
He picked up a piece of white chalk and a piece of pink chalk, tapping them against the board before making two dots at the bottom. Then, with a long ’screech’, he slowly drew them upward.
"You are clearly moving forward. In fact, you would have risen no matter what. You would have risen even if you had majored in something as foolish as Combat Magic or as low-level as Poison Studies. But when you look back on your achievements in the distant future..."
With a final ’tap’, Bahil lifted the two pieces of chalk from the board.
"I am certain there will be a difference."
Drawn on the blackboard were two lines. The white one shot straight up. The pink one was drawn at a slight, sideways angle.
"These two lines started at the same point and moved upward for the same amount of time. But the difference is clear."
Bahil drew a horizontal line from the end of the pink one over to the white one, highlighting that the white line had reached a higher point.
"You’ll come to realize it keenly as time goes on, but Summoning Studies has a decisive limitation. This isn’t a matter of the field being old-fashioned or trendy. It is..."
Bahil’s lips curled into a smirk.
"The fact that you must ’depend’ on a summon."
Simon’s breath hitched.
"A summoner’s limit is their forced reliance on another entity. Moreover, a summon’s performance is more or less fixed once it’s created. A dependent mind makes a necromancer weak. It makes them draw their own limits. A powerful necromancer is one who transcends limits and changes everything."
Bahil’s eyes flashed.
"How far do you think you can go in a field that merely researches how to best use a toy—a summon—which has its limits from the very moment it’s created?"
"P-Please, calm down."
Simon held up his hands in a placating gesture, forcing a smile. While Bahil’s points weren’t entirely correct, Simon had to admit some of them were valid.
However...
’I can’t just tell him I’m a Legion Commander.’
Bahil smiled faintly and picked up the textbook he had set down.
"This isn’t a decision to be made hastily, so take your time to think it over. Let’s continue with the lesson."
Professor Bahil’s class proved to be more spectacular than Simon could have imagined. It was already far beyond the level of a typical makeup session. In particular, Bahil was offering all sorts of advice on ’Sleep,’ the curse Simon was most confident in and interested in.
"Now. Straight ahead."
Bahil set up a table. Simon rushed forward and slammed his palm onto it.
’Phantastus Original – ’Sleep’
He had only struck the table, but the ’Sleep’ curse passed right through it and afflicted the target behind it.
"Excellent. Next."
Next was an applied version of ’Sleep.’ Simon gathered the curse in his hand and scattered it into the air. It spread out in all directions, casting ’Sleep’ on every target.
"Whoa!" Simon exclaimed.
"Adding the rotating formula, Chetini, can create this phenomenon," Bahil explained, clapping and laughing. "The breaking formula, Panthera; the bending formula, Abisso; the rotating formula, Chetini. You’ll have to learn them all, won’t you?"
Simon answered with vigor.
"Yes! I’ll learn them all!"
By the time he came to his senses...
’Huh?’
His arms were filled with an assortment of books and formula scrolls.
"I expect you to have all three memorized by the next class. That is all," Bahil said, having dropped a mountain of an assignment on him. He pulled on his gloves and smiled faintly. Since Simon had agreed, he couldn’t object, and there was no room for Professor Aaron to intervene.
"I’m looking forward to our next class."
"Th-Thank you for your hard work, Professor."
Bahil turned and strode out of the luxurious classroom.
The sound of his footsteps faded as he stepped outside, where Chehekle was waiting with her hands politely clasped, having already finished her own makeup classes.
"Great work, Professor," she said with a bow.
"You too, Chehekle."
"How was your class with Simon?"
Bahil’s smile stretched from ear to ear.
"It was the best time I’ve had in a long while."
He no longer had to stoop to the level of other foolish students and follow the textbook. This was a class solely for Simon Polentia. A happy daily routine he would have enjoyed every single day if not for Aaron. A routine that was now impossible, but one that could be possible in the future.
"Thanks to Lady Nephthys sending Simon out on that special assignment, I was able to have some fun."
Bahil was thoroughly satisfied with this legitimate one-on-one makeup class.
"More importantly," Chehekle began, her brows furrowing with worry. "That offer to help him beat Aizel? You didn’t actually make it, did you?"
"I did. Of course, it wasn’t accepted immediately."
"Professor Bahil!"
A meaningful smile played on Bahil’s lips. Everything was moving quickly. Jane was on the move, and so was Hong Feng.
"Let’s just watch a little longer. A reaction will come, one way or another."
A makeup class. By definition, a class intended to supplement material for students who couldn’t attend the regular session.
But Bahil wasn’t the only one using them for ulterior motives.
A similar situation occurred the next day.
’Huh?’
This time, it was a makeup class for Jet-Black Dynamics. After being told to change into his gym uniform, Simon arrived at the designated location. While everyone else headed to their classrooms in their school uniforms, Simon alone stood in the arena.
’It’s been a while since I was here.’
This was the indoor arena used during the dueling evaluation season. As Simon looked around, a teaching assistant for Jet-Black Dynamics approached and silently helped him into a protective suit enchanted with barrier magic.
"G-Good luck with your class, Simon."
The assistant bowed his head and then scurried away as if fleeing.
Left alone, Simon waited blankly in the empty arena for a few minutes.
Then, a moment later, lights flickered on across the arena with a low hum. A barrier deployed, and he could feel the protective suit activating.
Then, the sharp ’clack’ of heels echoed from a distance. The professor in charge of second-year Jet-Black Dynamics and the Vice-Principal of Kizen, Jane Olivia, was approaching.
"P-Professor Jane?"
Somehow, the atmosphere felt ominous.
"We will now begin the makeup class, Student Council President," she declared, snapping her fingers.

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