Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor

The proceedings had reached their conclusion. Astrid had successfully secured a life sentence for Simon and Dianna Ainsley on multiple charges, while simultaneously mitigating the fallout for Silas Ainsley, just as Professor Vanitas had instructed.

The High Council and Parliament had agreed the severity of the case warranted nothing less. Anything softer would have unsettled the public further.

——Silas Ainsley! How could you!?

Simon's furious voice echoed through the hall as he was led away. Dianna Ainsley, meanwhile, found herself speechless, her expression blank in the face of her son's betrayal.

And yet, despite the bitterness in their words, a lump formed in Silas's throat. No matter how deeply one resented their parents, watching them sentenced to life in prison was not easy to bear.

As the two were escorted out of the House of Justice, Charlotte stood, somewhat satisfied with the outcome.

But just as she began to rise, a figure appeared behind her—a man in a black fedora who gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"....!"

Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly in disbelief. And then… a smile formed, soft and trembling as tears welled in her eyes.

"Vani-tas…"

He nodded gently. "Let's go outside.

* * *

Astrid exhaled deeply, one hand pressing gently against her chest. The intensity of the verbal proceedings had taken its toll, and the lingering image of Simon Ainsley's hateful glare remained etched in her mind.

If looks could kill, his would have struck her down on the spot.

"...."

As she made her way toward the center aisle, her eyes met her father's. His expression was shocked, as though he still couldn't quite believe she was standing there, alive.

She offered him a small, reassuring smile before turning away.

Just as she stood to leave, a hand suddenly grasped her wrist.

"....!"

Startled, she turned and found Irene, frowning at her.

"Come with me," Irene said.

"...."

Astrid swallowed hard. She had prepared herself for this. Prepared to explain everything. She followed silently.

Once they stepped outside the House of Justice and were away from prying eyes, Astrid opened her mouth to speak and was ready to tell Irene everything.

But before a single word could leave her lips, Irene pulled her into a tight embrace.

"...."

Astrid froze for a moment, eyes wide in surprise, then slowly returned the embrace.

"What's wrong with you…" Irene whispered, her voice trembling. "Why would you do that? I thought I lost you…"

"I'm sorry," Astrid replied softly, her voice muffled against her sister's shoulder. "But I had no choice. I—"

"Did he put you up to this?" Irene suddenly cut in. "Is that it? Did he threaten you? Did he hold it against you?!"

Without warning, Irene pulled away and began frantically checking Astrid's arms and neck for any signs of injury or restraint.

"Sister, what are you—?"

"I knew I couldn't trust that man—!"

"Stop it!"

Irene froze, startled by Astrid's raised voice.

"Zen… No—Vanitas," Astrid corrected herself, shaking her head. "He didn't force me. He did everything for the sake of the Empire."

"...."

Irene's brows furrowed, her lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

"Unlike the other nobles," Astrid continued, "Vanitas genuinely wants to change the system. I know he used you, yes, but only to expose the Ainsley Marquess's crimes. And look what happened! The entire House of Justice made an example out of them. The other noble families won't move as carelessly anymore."

"You're saying he manipulated me for a good cause?" Irene asked bitterly.

"No," Astrid replied. "I'm saying he trusted you to do what no one else could. And you did."

Irene looked away, her hands tightening into fists. "And what about you? What has this trust earned you, Astrid? Fear? Isolation? A false death?"

"It earned me perspective," Astrid said, stepping closer. "And it gave me the strength to face that courtroom today. To speak, not as a princess, but as someone who understands the gaps in her justice system."

For a moment, there was a long silence that hung between them.

Then, Irene spoke again, her voice softer this time. "You've changed."

"Maybe I've grown," Astrid said with a smile.

Just then, a familiar voice echoed through the corridor.

——A reunion without me? That's cold, even for you, Irene.

They turned in unison, and saw Franz approaching, hands tucked casually in his coat pockets, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Brother…" Astrid breathed.

Without hesitation, she ran and wrapped her arms tightly around him as if to confirm he was real. Franz chuckled lightly and returned the embrace, resting his hand gently atop her head.

Irene, however, remained still, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

"Not going to greet me, Irene?" Franz asked with mock offense. "That hurts."

"I'm only here for Astrid," she replied curtly. "You just ruined our moment."

"Harsh as ever," Franz muttered, then turned his attention back to Astrid. "Still, I'm glad you're safe."

Astrid looked up at him, eyes soft. "Thank you. For everything you did."

Franz arched a brow. "Don't thank me yet. Things are far from over. The Empire may have witnessed a trial today… but this might just be the beginning."

Irene glanced sideways, brows narrowing. "What are you implying?"

Franz's lips curved into a thin line. "The fall of the Ainsleys and Esmeraldas was merely the prelude. Now, every noble house will scramble to secure its footing."

In truth, it was Franz who had gained the most from the aftermath. The fact that not even a Marquess or a Duke family could escape judgment had sent a powerful message to the working class.

For the first time in decades, the commoners began to believe that the system might be worth trusting, that their voices, too, had worth in the eyes of the law.

In simpler terms, the unrest among the lower class, the small riots and revolts, would now begin to subside to a certain extent by the perceived competence of the current government.

And in that window of calm, Franz would have just enough time… to enact the next phase of his plans.

In every way, it had all been nothing more than a false pretense.

The entire trial had already laid bare his father's incompetence. Franz had seen it with his own eyes how the Emperor was willing to throw everything away for the sake of sentiment.

To Franz, that was laughable. A weakness unbefitting an emperor.

And in a world where weakness had no place on the throne, Franz knew exactly what had to be done next.

To claim the throne for himself.

* * *

"In the name of the Father… and of the Son…"

Inside the quiet monastery, a priest finished his prayer and motioned the sign of the cross. Rising to his feet, his robes rustled in the candlelit chamber.

From the shadowed corridor, a junior cleric emerged, approaching him with measured steps.

"Cardinal Ester," the young cleric spoke respectfully.

Ester Bartholomew, a figure who had risen from the remnants of the disgraced House of Bartholomew. Despite the ridicule he once bore for the name traditionally given to women, he had ascended to the high ranks of the Holy Church of Lumine.

Now, he stood as a Cardinal, and a voice of faith and doctrine.

Their current residence was a church established deep within the heart of Aetherion.

"How was the trial?" Ester asked.

"It went just as you predicted, Cardinal," the cleric replied. "The nobility remains drunk on their own power. Just as you said, Aetherion is no longer a thriving empire…"

There was a moment of silence.

"The way they mishandled the Blood Moon… and now this trial, it all proves it," the cleric continued. "They may wear crowns, but they've lost the right to rule."

Ester slowly turned toward the stained glass window, where moonlight filtered through, illuminating fragmented colors across the floor.

Then, footsteps echoed from the monastery's entrance as another figure approached. As they turned, they saw a man with green hair and eyes that glowed like neon flames.

"Lance," Ester said.

It was none other than one of the Great Powers—the Scholar of Wisdom, Lance Abelton.

Wisdom, in every sense, was a virtue. And wisdom always revealed where truth lay.

To Lance, the truth had been laid bare to see. And those who refused to see it were nothing more than primitive minds clinging to ignorance.

The Church of Lumine, were heretics in holy garb.

The Zyphran Dominion was a delusional state clinging to outdated ideals.

The Theocracy was a nation sustained by nothing more than brute power disguised as religion.

The Umbral Coalition couldn't even be considered a nation, but an empire built on war crimes.

The Celestine Hegemony, a kingdom corrupted by greed, masquerading behind artistry.

And Aetherion… was a crumbling relic of the past destined to burn itself to ashes.

Because true wisdom, Lance believed, was not merely knowledge, but the burden of seeing the world as it truly was.

And that meant one truth above all.

To survive in this world, one must align with a third force.

Araxys.

For what wisdom revealed… was also a curse. A sin. A detachment from the ethics and morality that bound lesser men.

"The first paragraph of the scripture has been translated," Lance announced, stepping forward with a grin. "Courtesy of me, of course."

"Is that true?" Ester's tone shifted, startled despite himself.

For years, it was universally believed that the demonic tongue could not be translated.

That every so-called translation was false, and every book was a fabrication written by desperate scholars, hoping to elevate their relevance with delusions of understanding.

But perhaps that wasn't the entire truth.

Because demons, in their purest form, were not meant to be understood, not by the minds of men.

And yet, paradoxically… demons were also the most unfiltered form of humanity itself.

To understand them… one must be pure.

"...."

One must embody Araxys.

* * *

For the following days, Vanitas devoted his time to cleaning up the aftermath of his supposed death. Charlotte had been so preoccupied with avenging him that certain responsibilities tied to the Astrea name had been left unattended.

Not that he could blame her.

"Budgeting… Taxes… Salaries…"

The list of documents he needed to review and approve seemed endless. The workload became so overwhelming that returning to the University Tower had to be delayed.

He had insisted Charlotte take it easy and focus on her studies while he handled all the logistical and administrative details.

Once the grueling days finally came to an end, Vanitas took a moment for himself and paid a visit to the cemetery. Thanks to Astrid's arrangements, he had been granted access to one specific tomb.

Unlike the memories he held, the grave had been constructed with a templated structure and a proper roof.

Her grave.

Julia Barielle, the Imperial Queen.

Even in death, this woman haunted him. Even after taking the mantle of Vanitas Astrea, she lingered in the back of his mind like a ghost he could never escape. She was the one who, even after death, could destroy everything he had so painstakingly built.

And yet, despite it all, he couldn't find it in his heart to resent her.

——Your mother would've been proud of you, Zen.

Because in every way that mattered, Julia Barielle had become a mother to Vanitas Astrea, too.

He understood why Vanitas had never told her about the abuse he endured at the hands of his adoptive father. It wasn't because he didn't trust her.

It was because he couldn't.

Because if he had spoken out, his little sister, Charlotte, would have been the price. Their father would have murdered her without hesitation.

"...."

Vanitas lowered himself to one knee, placing a gentle hand on the tombstone etched with the name; "Julia Barielle." His eyes closed, and for a moment, he simply allowed the silence to embrace him.

When he finally opened them, he stood and stepped away from the grave. The cold air met him with its usual bite, as snowflakes drifted lazily down from the gray sky.

He walked in the direction of his parents' resting place. But halfway there, he suddenly stopped.

——Professor…

A familiar voice called out behind him, and he turned around.

"...."

Standing there was someone he hadn't expected to see. A presence that, oddly, eased the weight in his chest more than he cared to admit.

"Karina," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"...."

She didn't answer immediately. Her eyes were cast downward, and a shadow seemed to darken her expression.

"I thought… it was a joke," she began. "That you were alive. I… I didn't know how to feel."

Vanitas regarded her for a moment, then stepped closer. "There were things I needed to take care of. I didn't have the chance to explain everything."

He reached out and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"...."

But Karina flinched, brushing his hand aside. Her gaze locked onto his with such intensity that it caught him off guard. Her eyes were glossy and trembled with emotions he couldn't yet define.

"...."

He said nothing. Because the look in her eyes wasn't just grief, but something he wasn't quite sure how to face.

"Will you follow me?" she asked suddenly.

"In a moment. I need to visit my parents—"

"Please."

"...."

Vanitas paused for a beat, then nodded. Whatever it was, she clearly had something she needed to say.

"Alright."

He followed her quietly.

As they walked, a flicker appeared in the corner of his peripheral vision.

―――――「Tutorial」―――――

◆ Objective: Prevent upcoming allegations and avoid losing your teaching profession at all costs.

[Rewards:]

◆ Understanding: +210%

―――――――――――――――

Vanitas narrowed his eyes slightly. He thought the ordeal with Simon Ainsley was the end of it.

Apparently not.

But he didn't dwell on it long. He simply made a mental note to prepare contingencies.

When they finally stopped, Vanitas lowered his gaze to the gravestone in front of them.

Romulus Neuschwan.

"...."

Who?

"This is my father," Karina said, then corrected herself. "Stepfather, rather. The one who's been hospitalized all this time."

"I see," Vanitas replied with a slow nod. "My sincere condolences. I had no idea—"

"He was a journalist."

"...."

"Do you know him, Professor?" she asked, still not looking at him, her expression devoid of emotion. "His pen name was William Camus."

Whoosh—

A sudden gust of wind swept past, whipping his hair like a crashing wave.

"...."

He knew that name all too well.

William Camus, the very journalist the original Vanitas Astrea had silenced years ago, the one that disappeared.

….Perhaps the only person in this world that had made the connection that Vanitas Astrea was involved with the Imperial Queen's death.

And that person… was Karina's father?

―――――

◆ Understanding: +230%

―――――

The numbers on his interface were slowly rising.

"You knew him, didn't you?" she asked again, voice low.

"...."

Vanitas couldn't answer. He didn't know what to say. Everything clicked at once.

"Answer me."

"Karina—"

"Please."

―――――

◆ Understanding: +240%

―――――

Silence fell again.

He couldn't say a word. The weight of it was all too heavy in his chest. He had once thought that, perhaps, Karina was the only one in this world who didn't suffer the burden of the original Vanitas.

Someone that, in a way, would genuinely enjoy his company as Chae Eun-woo, not Vanitas Astrea.

But at that moment, he realized the cruel truth.

"Tell me. Tell me right now!" she cried out, voice shaky. "Tell me you killed him!"

….Karina Maeril was the one responsible for Vanitas Astrea's downfall in the original narrative.