Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor

Astrid, ever committed to her responsibilities, spent the rest of her night to volunteer at her assigned workplace. It was a modest hospital and less hectic compared to the larger medical centers.

While the number of doctors was limited, the workload was manageable. Now officially a licensed doctor, Astrid had grown accustomed to the pace.

She had chosen this hospital for her debut specifically because of its more flexible schedule, though she had already submitted applications to the top medical centers in the empire.

As she closed her umbrella and stepped through the entrance, one of the nurses hurried toward her.

"Perfect timing, Doctor Astrid!" the nurse said, slightly out of breath. "Quickly. Doctor Erwin needs your assistance in the operating room!"

"...."

Astrid blinked, caught off guard. But without wasting a second, she made her way to the changing room to put on the appropriate surgical attire.

Doctor Erwin was the hospital's chief physician, and Astrid was already well-regarded for her surgical precision and efficient workflow. Something even the senior staff praised her for.

"I'm here, Doctor Erwin," she announced as she entered the operating room.

"Ah, Doctor Astrid," Erwin greeted her, still in the middle of the procedure. He hesitated for a moment, as if considering whether to say something, then gestured her over. "Come here."

"Yes," she responded, stepping forward.

As she moved closer, her gaze flicked to the observation window, and froze.

Standing behind the glass, watching the operation intently, was a familiar figure.

"...."

Hughes Pittsburg.

The head of the Pittsburg Marquess Household, and the father of her student council elections rival, Audelle Pittsburg.

'Why is he…?'

The moment she reached the table, her question was answered.

"Is this…" she began.

"Yes," Erwin confirmed with a nod. "It's Marchioness Pittsburg. She's been in a traffic accident."

"What...?"

Astrid said nothing more and immediately moved into position, slipping on her gloves and joining the procedure.

Lady Anella Pittsburg was in labor, but complications had already set in. Her blood pressure was dropping, and the fetal heart rate had become erratic.

The diagnosis was apparently, placental abruption, a life-threatening condition where the placenta detaches from the uterus prematurely.

"We're proceeding with an emergency cesarean section."

Astrid nodded, already preparing the surgical instruments on the tray beside her. The anesthesiologist was at work to stabilize the Marchioness under general anesthesia as the surgical team took position.

"Scalpel," Erwin called.

Astrid handed it over without delay.

The incision was quick and clean, just below the abdomen. Blood began to pool quickly.

"Suction."

Astrid responded immediately, keeping the area clear as Erwin worked through the layers of tissue.

Incision after incision, and within moments, the amniotic sac was visible.

"Rupture the sac—Doctor Astrid."

She stepped forward, carefully using the surgical scissors to make a precise cut. A rush of amniotic fluid followed.

With her stigmata, Astrid summoned the surgical tools midair. Her telekinesis moved and seamlessly supported the procedure. It had to be noted that her stigmata did not leave any prevalent mana in the air.

She used it not only to control instruments but also to gently hold back tissue and manage the blood flow, keeping the field clear for both her and Erwin.

The womb was open. Astrid directed a set of forceps to assist in expanding the incision, while another tool held the uterine wall steady.

"Cord's wrapped around the neck. Twice," Erwin said.

Astrid responded immediately, telekinetically maneuvering the clamps toward him.

"On it."

In the middle of the procedure, there was a commotion outside the operating room.

"Don't lose focus."

"Yes."

* * *

The entire ordeal lasted nearly two hours. As the final sutures were tied and the surgical team began to clean up, Astrid stepped away from the operating table. She exhaled a long and heavy sigh as she removed her surgical mask and scrub cap with a weary motion.

——Princess…

A voice echoed from nearby, drawing her attention.

——You are Princess Astrid, right…?

She turned toward the source.

It was Marquess Hughes Pittsburg.

He stood just beyond the doorway, his gaze alternating between her and the operating room. There was something in his eyes. Surprise, perhaps even a trace of fear, but he masked it quickly, straightening his shoulders as if to reassert his presence.

"Yes," Astrid replied. "Congratulations, Marquess Pittsburg."

"I… wasn't aware you were working here."

Astrid offered a polite smile. "Most people aren't."

"I see." He cleared his throat, awkwardly trying to maintain formality. "Still… thank you. Truly. For granting us this honor. My child will be astonished to know that the princess herself was responsible for her birth."

"You're very welcome. I was simply doing my duty."

A brief pause followed, lingering just a moment too long. Then the Marquess spoke again.

"Did they… tell you anything?"

Astrid raised an eyebrow. "Tell me what?"

"Ah—no, never mind," he said quickly, waving it off. "It's nothing."

Astrid tilted her head, puzzled. His hesitation was strange—almost out of character.

"…Is something wrong?" she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"No," he replied, forcing a thin smile. "Not at all."

She didn't push further. Whatever it was, he clearly wasn't ready to say it.

"Be with your wife, Marquess Pittsburg," Astrid said.

The Marquess gave a curt nod and turned away, walking toward the recovery ward.

As the footsteps faded, Astrid let out a quiet breath.

"Hoo…."

A subtle sense of accomplishment settled in her chest. This had been her sixteenth surgery, and the third childbirth she had assisted in. Yet, each time felt just as meaningful as the last.

There was something profoundly grounding about witnessing new life enter the world.

She couldn't help but smile to herself. Tired, yes, but content.

"...."

She turned and began removing her gloves. Her hands were sore, and her shoulders were stiff, but her heart felt light.

As she stepped out of the operating room, she walked the quiet corridor in silence. Then, she noticed a slightly open hospital room.

She reached for the door, intending to close it gently, but stopped.

"...."

The sound of quiet sobbing reached her ears. Curious and concerned, Astrid peeked inside.

——Why… why….

There was no moonlight tonight, only the dull hue of fluorescent lights, dimmed further by the heavy rain outside. But even through the gloom, she saw a figure sitting at the bedside, his head bowed, clutching the patient's hands tightly as he wept.

A sorrowful expression crept across Astrid's face. A new life had been brought into the world tonight, but it seemed another had just left it.

That was the reality of their work.

"Doctor."

A gentle hand touched her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts. She turned quickly.

It was a nurse.

"Leave this place, Princess," the nurse said, her eyes filled with sympathy.

The shift in title caught Astrid off guard. In the hospital, she was always referred to as Doctor Astrid, never Princess.

"What do you—"

But before she could finish, the nurse stepped inside the room.

"The operating room is ready, Mr. Kaelus," the nurse said gently. "It's ready… but… I'm sorry. We couldn't do anything. She's already been pronounced…"

"I understand," the reply came quickly.

"...."

At that moment, Astrid froze. That voice. That name.

She stepped forward, disbelief tightening in her chest. "Ezra…?"

The man's head snapped quickly toward her.

It was him.

His eyes were swollen, rimmed with red, full of grief and disbelief.

"You…" he muttered.

"What are you doing here? Why are you at the hospi—"

"It was you, wasn't it?"

Astrid blinked. "...What?"

"You pushed the agenda, right?"

"Mr. Kaelus," the nurse interjected, "please, calm down. Doctor Astrid is completely unawa—"

"Shut up for a moment!" Ezra snapped.

He stood, his movement abrupt and full of barely-contained rage. He walked straight toward Astrid, and she could only stare back, frozen in disbelief. The fury in his eyes was unlike anything she'd ever seen from him.

"Ezra, what are you talking abou—"

Ezra pointed toward the bed. Toward the still form of the elderly woman lying there.

"That's my grandmother," he said.

"...."

Astrid's eyes widened.

"No…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"She was brought in first. I know she was. And yet, she was neglected, wasn't she? Because there was a noble in this shitty hospital."

"...."

The hospital Astrid worked at had been the closest facility to the site of the traffic accident where Ezra's grandmother was involved. With no time to reach a larger hospital, this was the only option.

But Ezra hadn't arrived until later. By then, the surgery for Lady Pittsburg was already underway.

He had caused a scene at the time, nearly losing control. But thinking of his grandmother, he'd restrained himself, biting down his rage and pleading with the staff to prioritize her.

It had changed nothing.

"I thought you were different," Ezra said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. "But maybe I was wrong."

"Mr. Kaelus," the nurse tried again, gently, "as I told you—Doctor Astrid had no idea. She wasn't part of the decision-making pro—"

"Please," Ezra cut in, turning his back on them. "Leave me alone."

The nurse's brows furrowed with sympathy. She glanced at Astrid, then nodded subtly.

"Let's go, Doctor. I'll explain the situation."

"Ah…" Astrid murmured.

Her gaze lingered on Ezra for a moment longer, his figure hunched at the bedside consumed by grief.

Then she followed the nurse out of the room in silence.

The two walked slowly down the hallway, the sound of their footsteps dulled by the ever-present patter of rain beyond the windows.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," the nurse said gently. "It's been a difficult night for him."

"I understand," Astrid replied, her voice low.

They reached a quiet corner near the staff lounge before the nurse continued.

"His grandmother was being treated. She wasn't pushed aside, at least, not at first. But then the Marquess Family suddenly arrived."

They had been on their way home when, under the heavy downpour, their car collided with a transport truck.

The Marchioness, Anella Pittsburg had already gone into labor from the shock of the crash, and her condition was rapidly deteriorating by the time they reached the nearest hospital.

"We told him there was already another patient in the operating room, but the pressure from Marquess demanded immediate intervention. Doctor Erwin tried to hold his ground, but…" her voice faltered.

There was no need for her to finish her words. It was quite clear to Astrid what the nurse was implying.

It hadn't been malice. It hadn't even been a conscious choice. It was the reality of a broken system. A system that bent under noble pressure and failed to protect those without influence.

"Doctor Erwin made the call to divert the primary team," the nurse said. "He believed the elderly patient had been stabilized, and if we moved quickly, we could handle both cases. Everyone was relieved when you arrived. But by the time you were deep into surgery with Lady Pittsburg… it was already too late."

"I see," Astrid said softly.

A dire situation that had likely eaten away at Doctor Erwin's thoughts. Childbirths, by standard protocol, were handled through traditional means rather than magic, due to the risks mana posed to an infant.

On the other hand, Ezra's grandmother, frail and elderly, was in critical condition but would not have survived a magic-assisted procedure either.

Both cases demanded conventional medicine. Both were urgent. And yet, only one could be prioritized.

"...."

She looked out the hallway window. The rain continued to fall, blurring the view outside. And somewhere down the corridor, Ezra was still grieving in silence.

The decision had seemed logical at the time. But now, faced with the aftermath, the consequences were palpable. No amount of protocol could undo the finality of a death.

A commoner had died in a side room, while the hospital's full attention had been pulled toward saving a noble heir.

And Ezra had seen it all with his own eyes.

"They didn't want to tell you… Doctor—no, Princess… Doctor Erwin didn't want you to know what really happened tonight. But… it seems like you knew the victim's family."

Astrid's eyes didn't move from the window. The rain still fell steadily beyond the glass, but the storm inside her heart was heavier.

"....He's my friend."

* * *

The Astrea Estate grounds were vast, stretching out in well-manicured courtyards and stone pathways. Margaret walked in silence, flanked by two of her knights, while an Astrea butler led the way ahead of them.

"Grand Knight, if we end up working for the Marquess… we'd have to live here, right?" Zane whispered beside her.

"Yes," Margaret replied with a nod.

The wealth and grandeur of the Astrea Marquess Household had clearly caught the attention of the newer knights. It was hard not to be impressed.

As a leader, it was only logical for Margaret to accept the opportunity when it came. But as a daughter, having been handed this order by her father, it felt like she was selling away what her father had worked so hard to establish.

They entered the inner garden, where the wind carried the scent of roses. A servant bowed and opened the doors leading into the receiving hall.

"The Marquess will see you shortly," the butler announced politely before stepping aside.

Margaret turned to her knights. "Wait here. I'll speak with him alone."

Both knights nodded in unison. "Yes, Grand Knight."

As she stepped into the hall, the heavy doors closed quietly behind her. The room was as opulent as expected.

Margaret settled onto one of the luxurious sofas as she waited in silence. After a moment, footsteps echoed from the grand staircase.

Tak. Tak—!

She exhaled slowly.

It had been a while since she last saw Vanitas. The last she'd heard, he'd been dumped by Karina and had buried himself in work.

It was quite admirable how professionally he had handled the breakup.

But then again… this was Vanitas.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored coat, he looked every bit the aristocrat she remembered.

"Margaret," he said as he took a seat across from her. "Glad you could come."

"Yes, it's been a while, Vani—Marquess Astrea," she corrected herself mid-sentence.

Vanitas offered a slight nod. "So, have you thought about it?"

"I have," Margaret replied. "And I'm sorry to say this, but… I'm still hesitant."

"Hesitant?" He raised an eyebrow. "Why? I thought the terms were quite favorable. If it's about the specifics, we can revisit them. Adjustments can always be made."

She shook her head, cutting in. "It's not that. The terms are more than generous. More than we deserve."

"Then?"

"It's not the offer that concerns me," Margaret said. "But… my pride as Margaret Illenia."

"Pride?" Vanitas raised an eyebrow. "I've heard about your Order's financial struggles."

Her jaw tightened slightly. "So have many others, I'm sure. That doesn't mean I'll sell myself out at the first opportunity."

"Don't be naive, Margaret. Times are changing. Opportunities like this don't come often." He leaned forward slightly. "Aren't we friends?"

"We are…" she replied, a bit hesitant. "But… I don't know if you remember. My father—"

"Was a king, and you were a princess," Vanitas interrupted flatly. "Everyone knows that, Margaret."

"Yes…"

Perhaps it was because of that. The Kingdom of Illenia had never been considered a legitimate empire, not in history books, nor in politics.

It was seen merely as an independent domain in the past. And because its people refused to submit under the rule of any of the Empires, they were dismissed.

Maybe this was the reason behind the subtle oppression Margaret faced. Perhaps a punishment for her people's defiance.

Margaret began to recall how her father had fought tooth and nail, bending over backwards just to earn recognition from Aetherion after the Kingdom of Illenia was reduced to ash.

How he struggled to become part of its people, and how he forced his aging body into knighthood, if only to build a foundation for those left behind.

How he fought long and hard to establish a Knight Order he could pass on to his daughter, the supposed Princess of Illenia, Margaret Illenia.

"That's why… I just can't submit so easily."

"The terms clearly state you'd remain in control," Vanitas replied. "You'll serve under the Astrea banner while still bearing the Illenia name. You'll retain your autonomy and continue your duties. All while receiving my financial backing. I don't see the problem."

"It's not the terms," Margaret said. "It's the reason. Why me? Why us? I just don't believe in such a thing as free lunch."

A brief silence followed.

Then Vanitas spoke.

"Maybe it's because I want to keep you by my side."

"Eh—?"