Crownless Reincarnation: New World? Nah I'd win-Chapter 44: Pandora Academy [2]

She opened her mouth to speak.

But...

No words came out of it.

Zaina froze in her place.

The silence grew sharp and heavy, pressing like an invisible rope tightening around her throat.

Her lips parted again, but nothing came out.

A hush rippled through the hall, students glancing at one another.

"What is she doing...?"

"Did she freeze in fear...?"

"Is she dumb or unable to speak...?"

Their confusion turned into amusement as they looked at her struggle.

Then...

Laughter.

Soft at first. Cruel by the second wave.

Akamir’s eyes narrowed.

’And here it comes.’

Zaina’s hands trembled.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching desperately for a friendly face.

None came, not even from the faculty.

The professor standing near the stage frowned, beginning to step forward.

But someone beat him to it.

A sharp, mocking voice cut through the silence. "What, cat got your tongue, Edevane?"

Gasps followed.

It was Lyselle Polama.

Daughter of Duke Vareon Polama.

The second-highest scorer after Zaina.

She sat gracefully, looking at her. "Maybe next time the academy should pick someone who knows how to speak."

A few students laughed, others didn’t, but none intervened.

Zaina flinched.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails biting into her skin.

But still, she couldn’t say anything.

’If what Nayomi said happened, then Lyselle fed her something that made her unable to speak.’

She even acted like she admired Zaina in order to make her guard go down.

It was temporary, of course, but enough to make fun of her.

’All this just because Zaina is smarter than her.’

Akamir let out a sigh.

He quietly stood up and began to walk out of the hall.

Even though the professors saw him move, they didn’t say anything while Zavan moved towards Zaina.

Akamir moved out of the hall as he looked around the academy.

The heavy doors of the Great Hall shut behind him with a low thud, cutting off the laughter still echoing inside.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, annoyed.

"They really think they’re something," he muttered.

Nayomi hovered beside him. "Are you angry because of her?"

"No," Akamir said, a little too quickly.

She raised an eyebrow.

"...Okay, maybe a little."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at the stone path beneath his feet.

"It was pathetic to watch. Not her—just... the rest of them."

Nayomi didn’t comment. She floated beside him in silence.

Akamir began to walk toward the northern garden path, away from the chatter, toward the quiet parts of campus.

He walked past a marble statue of the academy’s founder and sat on a bench shaded by flowering mana-vines.

He leaned back, stretching out his legs.

The morning breeze ruffled his hair.

"You know," Nayomi said softly, "you could’ve stayed and helped her."

Akamir didn’t open his eyes. "She doesn’t need my help."

"She looked like she did."

"..."

Akamir didn’t reply.

He could have helped her, but why?

There was no reason for him to do so, even if she was his fiancée; there weren’t any feelings between them.

’And I don’t really want her to have any feelings for me.’

As much as he wants to deny it, Akamir didn’t have a positive image of Zaina.

’A befitting word for her is jinx.’

Someone who would only bring him bad luck.

He sat in silence for a moment longer before he sighed.

Opening his eyes, he looked for anyone around him.

Luckily, a nerdy student was walking past him.

Akamir blocked his path. "Hey, sorry, but mind showing me the way to the Vice Headmistress’s office?"

The boy blinked in panic. "Uh, that building, third floor."

Akamir looked back at the building he was pointing at and nodded.

"Thanks," he said, walking towards the building.

As he walked closer, he noticed the teachers’ faculty sign marked in the front.

He entered the tower-like building, climbing the spiral staircase to the third floor.

Unlike the grandeur of the Great Hall, this section of the academy was quieter, lined with bookshelves and paintings of previous staff.

The air smelled faintly of ink and old books.

At the end of the third-floor hall was a wooden door marked with silver letters,

Vice Headmistress Inara Var Krivos.

Akamir raised his hand and knocked once.

"Come in," a voice called from the inside.

He opened the door and stepped into the spacious office.

Bookshelves lined the walls, and a crystal-glass window opened to a view of the northern gardens.

Sitting behind a crescent-shaped desk was a woman in her mid-twenties, silver hair tied in a braid, blood eyes behind a pair of frameless glasses staring at the desk.

"Not even a full hour into the semester...." Her words paused as she looked up at him. "Asher? What are you doing here?"

He walked closer. "I’m here for my morning kiss."

"....What?"

"Kidding," he said, taking his seat opposite to her. "I need your help."

She leaned back on her chair, rubbing her temples. "...What do you want?"

"Help me skip all the useless classes," he said, leaning forward. "Like history, noble thinking, war strategy... I only want classes related to mana."

She gave him a weird look. "What makes you think I can do that?"

"Aren’t you Vice Headmistress?" he asked, tilting his head. "Do something."

Inara stared at him for a long moment, as if debating whether to throw him out the window or humor him.

"You’re unbelievable," she muttered, rubbing the space between her brows.

Akamir gave her a casual shrug. "I’m trying to be efficient with my time."

"And avoid people."

"That too."

Inara leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "If I do this, Zavan will eat me alive. And you’ll be marked as difficult by the board."

"I already am." His tone was flat. "Might as well lean into it."

Inara finally sighed and pulled a form out from her drawer.

"There’s a program for personalized academic focus," she said, tapping her pen against it.

"Usually reserved for third years. But if I sign off on it now..."

She trailed off, waiting.

Akamir smiled faintly. "So you can do something."

"Don’t push it." She signed the form with a flourish, then slid it across the table.

"Take this to Professor Elbon. He’s the head of curriculum adjustments. If he agrees, you’ll get your wish."

Akamir took the paper, folding it neatly and slipping it into his pocket. "Appreciate it."

"You owe me."

"I’ll get you coffee later."

"I want wine."

"You’re a teacher."

"I’m a tired teacher."

He just smiled. "Noted."

As he turned to leave, Inara spoke again, softer this time.

"Lucien is the president of students... He might try to do something."

He paused by the door.

"Please ignore him for the time being," Inara added. "There is so much I could do to protect you."

"...I’ll think about it."

And with that, he stepped out, letting the door click shut behind him.

Nayomi reappeared beside him, drifting lazily in the corridor.

"That was weirdly mature of you."

"I just didn’t want to sit through lectures about how nobles’ fucked up glory."

She chuckled. "History is important."

"When it’s true," Akamir replied, walking down the stairs. "But I don’t think the ones they will teach are going to be."

She quietly nodded without arguing.

"Hmm?"

Akamir walked past the second floor, but he stopped as he felt something from the first floor.

A glowing light shone at the end of the hall past a door.

Curious, Akamir began to walk closer to the door.

Slowly, he pushed the door open.

The room beyond the door was dim, dust swirling gently in shafts of soft light.

At its center floated a small crystal-like object, glowing with a silvery-purple hue.

It pulsed softly, as if alive, like a heartbeat—slow and steady.

Akamir stepped in, eyebrows narrowing.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the pull of gravity vanished.

His feet lifted off the floor.

He hovered.

Weightless.

"...What the hell," he muttered, arms drifting out slightly for balance.

The strange sensation made his stomach twist with curiosity.

The crystal hummed louder, responding to his presence.

Mana rippled from it like quiet waves on water, brushing against his skin.

Akamir floated closer, his fingers outstretched.

But just as his hand neared the object—

"Don’t touch that!"

A sharp voice cracked through the air.

He froze.

From the corner of the room, a woman in a black and bronze dress stepped into view.

Her long coat swayed as she marched forward, as she pushed someone who was sitting on a wheelchair.

Akamir looked at the man sitting on the wheelchair without a word.

’...An elf?’

"Who the hell are you, and why are you in this wing?"

The woman asked.

Akamir blinked. "...You guys don’t know how to lock doors?"

A silence flowed as Akamir glanced at the elf once again.

Only now did he notice.

The elf had both his legs amputated.