The second day of the new semester dawned.
It was Tuesday—the day of Professor Winslet’s lecture.
The location of Winter Winslet’s first class: the Grand Auditorium.
Ironically, the same place where the professor had thrown that ridiculous “welcome speech” at the freshmen.
Back then, it had been packed with first-years; now, students of all grades filled the hall.
Still, the overwhelming majority were freshmen—because anyone who had survived at least a year at the Academy knew exactly what kind of person this professor was.
As proof of that, the older students had all huddled in the seats closest to the exits, as if securing escape routes.
Bang!
The exit—their planned escape—opened, and two students entered.
Leading the way was a girl with orange hair damp with sweat.
It was Jacqueline Dogwood, who had barely avoided being late after sprinting full speed since morning.
“Phew! That was close.”
Her friend, Rita Ridge, followed right behind her, pale and out of breath.
“Running… like this in the morning… haah… Jacqueline, you said you knew a shortcut—why the hell did you take the wrong way?”
“I’m really sorry. I’m terrible at finding my way around… But we’re not late, are we? Ahaha.”
The back rows were already packed, so Jacqueline and Rita had no choice but to move closer to the front.
Fortunately, there were a few empty spots starting from the second row, and they managed to sit down.
Jacqueline looked around, wide-eyed with admiration.
“There are so many people. This Winslet professor must be pretty famous, huh?”
“Probably everyone except you already knew that before even entering the Academy.”
“Hm, is it really that big a deal?”
“Yeah. Anyway, I’m curious how he’s going to conduct this class with so many students. And the midterms too—what kind of test it’ll be.”
“Didn’t your brother tell you anything?”
“He said he dropped the class right after the first lecture.”
“Ah…”
The class was about to begin, but Professor Winslet was running late.
Bored, Jacqueline swung her legs idly—until something caught her eye.
She quickly tapped Rita’s hand.
“Rita, it’s her!”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“The girl I told you about yesterday—the really pretty one! That’s her!”
Jacqueline pointed toward a student seated in the very front row.
The only one in the entire hall reckless enough to sit in the first row, dead center, right under the professor’s nose.
From behind, all Jacqueline could see was long, bright golden hair, flowing like a waterfall.
The girl was slightly shorter than Jacqueline, with a petite build and slender arms and legs.
When the blonde girl turned her head slightly, Jacqueline couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp.
“Wow…”
Her face was strikingly beautiful—so delicate and finely drawn she could have been a doll sculpted by a master craftsman.
Or perhaps a snow spirit from a fairy tale.
She looked like she belonged in a cold, faraway land—her expression tinged with a quiet loneliness.
‘Oh, come on. Why am I daydreaming about a girl I don’t even know?’
Jacqueline grew curious about the girl’s name. Without thinking too much, she lightly tapped her shoulder.
The blonde girl turned to look at her, and Jacqueline felt a strange thrill.
“What?”
“Hi! I’m Jacqueline. Jacqueline Dogwood.”
Up close, her youthful face looked even softer, her narrow eyes elegant and refined.
Jacqueline extended a hand for a handshake.
“You’re a freshman too, right? Let’s be friends!”
But right after she spoke, Jacqueline’s face stiffened in shock.
The blonde girl turned her head back to the front in one sharp motion.
“Uh…”
Did she just get ignored?
The girl looked as haughty as her impression suggested.
‘Hmm… is that how it is?’
Jacqueline just grinned.
Giving up wasn’t in her vocabulary.
‘This is the Academy life I’ve been waiting for…’
New friends, friendship, and adventure!
She wasn’t giving up on any of them.
Jacqueline stood up.
She marched over to the blonde girl’s desk, blocking her view so she couldn’t be ignored, and tried again to strike up a conversation.
The blonde girl reluctantly met her gaze at first, then deliberately glanced past Jacqueline’s shoulder as if to say, “Can’t you take a hint and leave?”
Jacqueline leaned in closer instead.
“Your name.”
“…?”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me. Hehe.”
And with that, Jacqueline flashed a cheeky grin, her best weapon—brazen shamelessness.
A silent standoff began, their eyes locked.
In the end, Jacqueline won.
The blonde girl let out a sigh.
“…Shannon.”
“Hm?”
“Shannon Quinlivan.”
“Wow! Even your name is pretty—like a princess! Hey, how old are you? Where are you from? Did you live in the city? I came from the countryside. Wow, your hair is so silky—what shampoo do you use?”
Shannon’s expression twisted in annoyance.
She had clearly expected Jacqueline to go away after answering once.
But Jacqueline’s barrage of questions only grew more enthusiastic—until…
Bang!
The front door of the auditorium swung open, and the owner of this class entered.
Professor Winter Winslet.
He spotted Jacqueline standing in the middle of the hall and glared at her. Then, loud enough for everyone to hear, he spoke:
“I thought someone brought their pet dog to class. This isn’t a daycare. Should I start by teaching you how to sit still?”
“Ugh.”
“Penalty point, Jacqueline Dogwood.”
Jacqueline’s face froze.
She hadn’t expected him to remember her name.
And just like that, on her very first class, she got on the bad side of the most infuriating professor.
***
Before starting the lecture, I scanned the auditorium.
And there—found exactly who I was looking for.
Not that it was hard to spot her.
In a sea of students crammed into the back rows, one person sat boldly at the very front, staring at me with fierce, unflinching eyes.
Shannon Quinlivan.
Straight shoulders, a proud nose, intelligent blue eyes, yet lips still young and untested.
Her sharp jaw tilted ever so slightly upward, like someone who had never tasted defeat. Her cheeks were still untouched—pure, like freshly fallen snow.
Shannon Quinlivan was famous among the Judgment of Candela fandom.
Known as—
‘The Tragic Genius.’
‘0-Tier Mage Companion.’
And…
‘The Key Card for the Winter Winslet Boss Fight.’
[Alert]
[The death route for this individual has been activated.]
In the original story, Shannon Quinlivan would stop at nothing to kill Winter Winslet.
At least… two years from now.
Why two years? Because Shannon’s event in Judgment of Candela doesn’t even trigger until the third year of the main storyline.
And that’s in Karaf, the city of magic—not here in Langbart.
So why the hell is she here?
According to her enrollment form, she’s here as a foreign exchange student.
Even I, a veteran of Judgment of Candela, didn’t know that the young prodigy of Karaf studied abroad in Lorencia this early.
The game’s protagonist spends the first six months stuck in a remote training camp, so the player never learns what happens in the capital during this period.
I studied Shannon’s face carefully.
She looked very different from the game.
Back then, she was thinner, paler—like a fading ghost.
Now? She looked alive.
Guess being two years younger does that.
Still, some things hadn’t changed.
Like the way she was glaring at me right now, her expression full of venom.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asked.
“Your eyes are arrogant,” I said.
“…”
Shannon bristled. Sparks practically crackled in the air between us.
But she didn’t talk back.
Wow, she’s holding it in?
The Shannon Quinlivan I knew would have turned me into a toad by now. Maybe at this age she still had some social restraint.
I gave her an honest question.
“Why are you here?”
“You… know who I am?”
“Of course.”
Her eyes widened.
I can guess what she’s thinking.
She probably thought she was some kind of celebrity just because she’d studied in Karaf.
I smirked.
Time for some life advice—the Winter Winslet way.
“You’re trash.”
“…”
Shannon froze, utterly dumbfounded, as if asking ‘What kind of lunatic says that to someone they’ve just met?’
But she didn’t know what I knew.
I’d spent hours with her in the game; my internal affection meter for her was already maxed out.
Her skills had been top-notch, but her personality had been insufferable. I’d had to put up with her back then.
Now? Payback time.
“I said it during the entrance ceremony: my class isn’t for talentless trash. So why are you sitting here like you belong?”
“I’m not talentless trash!” she snapped.
Exactly the reaction I wanted.
“Everyone makes that mistake. Look behind you. A thousand kids here have the same delusion.”
“I’m different. I was trained properly from childhood—by the Bennizelos School of Magic in Karaf!”
She said it proudly, clearly fishing for a reaction.
I snorted.
“Pathetic.”
“What did you just say?”
“If you’re such a great mage, why bother coming to some backwater kingdom? Trying to feel superior to people weaker than you? What a sad way to cope with your own insecurities. To me, you’re no different from the rest of these toads.”
Shannon’s hopeful expression turned to disappointment, then quickly to anger.
Good. Mission accomplished.
I shifted my gaze away, sweeping it over the rest of the hall.
As expected, the students looked terrified.
Sure, I was mostly teasing Shannon for fun, but I had another reason.
The easiest way to establish authority over a thousand students? Crush the first person who dared challenge it.
And Shannon was perfect for that.
There was… a third reason, but never mind that.
I stayed in character as Winter Winslet.
“I hope you all heard me clearly. From where I stand, every single one of you is trash. Pathetic excuses for mages.”
The trash talk flowed naturally now.
I wasn’t sure anymore if I was acting or if I was just becoming Winter Winslet.
“Tell me, why should I waste my time teaching you?”
No one dared answer.
Not that I needed one.
“Words won’t convince me. Prove it. Prove you deserve to call yourselves mages.”
And with that, I unleashed my magic.
Kwoooom!
An overwhelming surge of mana exploded, flooding the auditorium like a tidal wave.
Students were swept aside like stalks of grain in a typhoon.
Crash!
Several toppled backward, chairs and all—exactly why I’d already arranged for medical staff.
That was my chosen opening lesson.
A simple test of strength.