Tooth marks?
The Northern Region noble’s second son, who had just been making exaggerated faces, instantly froze, the smirk on his face stiffening.
The gazes of the other students also swiveled, shshsh, all locking onto Wendy’s neck.
On that pale, fair skin, there was indeed a small blue-purple mark. Its shape was unmistakably the result of being viciously gnawed by small, delicate teeth.
An instant wave of goosebumps exploded across Wendy’s back.
Damn it!
After being tormented by those two Demon Queens last night until he felt like he was falling apart, he’d only remembered to check if all his parts were intact, but he’d forgotten to check this kind of detail!
Laxana!
—Astreia’s kisses were domineering and forceful; it must have been that little vixen’s doing—but she never used her teeth.
Only that outwardly sweet and harmless young lady liked to leave this kind of mark of sovereignty at the critical moment, when Astreia’s kisses were at their most fierce and strong!
“Boss…”
Athena’s expression shifted.
Shock, confusion, and a hint of… heartbreak?
“Was the struggle last night… even more intense than we imagined?”
Her mind had clearly already played out a grand drama—a tragic, heroic play where Wendy, after verbally sparring with a horde of enemies and refusing to yield even with a dagger at his throat, was finally humiliated viciously by the furious foe.
Wendy swept his gaze across the others.
Perfect.
Their faces were all plastered with the same expression—a mix of anger and reverence.
Opportunity!
The Prince’s heart stirred, but his face crumpled into just the right look of exhaustion.
He didn’t answer.
He just let out a long, slow sigh.
His hand lifted, then fell weakly, as if pulling at some unbearable memory. He seemed about to cover the mark, but ultimately gave up.
“It’s all in the past.”
His voice carried a hint of post-binge hoarseness.
“Just a little friction.”
He tugged at the corner of his mouth, as if mocking himself.
“For our shared future, this small price is nothing.”
These few words, spoken lightly, carried the weight of a thousand tons.
“Unbearable!”
That Makari Empire noble second son slammed his fist on the desk, producing a heavy bang.
His handsome, boyish face flushed bright red.
“How dare they! This is an insult! A provocation against all of us!”
“That’s right, Boss! Tell us who!”
Athena also stood up, her small hands that had been gently massaging a moment ago now clenched into fists, her knuckles white.
“We’ll go and demand an explanation!”
Watching his excited underlings, Wendy felt a secret thrill, but his face had to put on a pained, big-picture-focused expression. He waved his hand repeatedly.
“Forget it, forget it.”
“Calm down. It’s not time to burn bridges yet.”
“Our foundation isn’t solid. We need friends.”
This posture of “swallowing humiliation for the greater good” had a spectacular effect.
Everyone stared at him, their expressions as if they were looking at a saint walking among mortals.
“Quiet!”
A cold voice, like a whip dipped in ice, lashed across everyone’s nerves.
The classroom fell into instant deathly silence.
Everyone turned their heads stiffly.
The red-haired female instructor, Tracy, was somehow already standing at the podium, staring coldly at them.
The students, like cats whose tails had been stepped on, instantly sat up straight, silent as cicadas in winter.
Tracy’s gaze swept across the classroom, finally landing on Wendy. Her brow furrowed sharply.
Then, she strode forward, her military boots beating a steady rhythm—thump, thump, thump—stepping down from the podium one by one, eventually stopping in front of Wendy’s desk.
She didn’t say a word.
She just stood over him, with an appraising gaze, examining Wendy inch by inch.
His bloodless lips, his slightly pale cheeks, the deep, unshakeable exhaustion in his peach-blossom eyes.
Wendy’s scalp tingled under her scrutiny.
This woman’s observation skills were as sharp as an eagle’s…
“I-Instructor?”
He forced himself to squeeze out a stiff smile.
Tracy ignored him.
She suddenly leaned in.
A scent mixed with cold wind and leather rushed toward him. Wendy instinctively leaned back. He saw Tracy’s nose twitch, extremely lightly.
‘Crap!
‘I still smell of Astreia and Laxana!
‘Is this woman a bloodhound?! How can she even smell this?!’
“You—”
Tracy finally spoke, her voice strange.
She stared at Wendy, then glanced at his drained appearance, her tone filled with the fury of someone disappointed in a promising talent that didn’t meet expectations.
“Writing a book is brain work!”
“It’s not manual labor!”
“I told you to write On War, not to write it with your life!”
The angrier she got, the louder her voice became, until she was practically shouting in Wendy’s face.
“Look at the state you’re in! Your eye circles are darker than mine! Your steps are unsteady, your vital energy is weak, your speech trails off!”
“Even if inspiration is abundant, you must rest! You’re burning the candle at both ends!”
“Every year, a few crazy bastards like you from the Military Branch work themselves to death at their desks, do you know that?!”
“I’m telling you, Wendy Black!”
“Unexpected accidents like that are not allowed with my investment!”
“If you dare to kill yourself before you finish that book, I will—even if I have to dig up your grave, I’ll drag your soul out and have you finish the manuscript!”
A ferocious scolding.
The entire classroom was stunned.
Wendy was stunned too.
He stared blankly at this furious female instructor, whose spittle was practically flying into his face.
He could feel, beneath Tracy’s anger, a genuine concern.
Not because of his identity, nor because of the power behind him.
But a pure—the concern of a talent-spotting Bole for the swift horse they had their eye on.
A wave of unprecedented emotion instantly crashed through Wendy’s defenses.
Guilt.
He felt… he was simply a terrible person.
She sincerely saw him as an unprecedented genius who would found a new school of thought, supporting him with her whole heart.
But him?
He was plagiarizing the wisdom of another world, and because of a night of debauchery, he was in a half-dead state, causing others to worry for him.
Wendy, Wendy, where is your conscience?
For the first time, the Prince felt a genuine twinge of shame.
“S-Sorry… Teacher.”
He slowly lowered his head.
Seeing Wendy in this “repentant” state, Tracy’s anger subsided by half.
“Enough.”
Her tone softened. She pulled a key from her pocket and tossed it onto Wendy’s desk.
“You don’t have to attend today’s physical training class.”
“This is the key to the Branch Library Third Floor Room B reading room. It’s not open to the public. It’s the quietest.”
“Go back and get some sleep. Restore your energy. Then go there and reorganize your outline.”
“Remember, I want a classic that can be passed down through the ages.”
“Not a rushed piece of garbage.”
With that, she turned and left, walking back up to the podium without looking back, as if her earlier outburst had never happened.
And in the classroom.
Athena and the others were already completely petrified.
They stared at their boss’s back, their eyes holding only one emotion—
Awe.
Look!
This is what they call realm!
The Boss had worked so hard on On War that even the instructor couldn’t bear to watch, taking the initiative to give him leave to rest!
And them—
They had actually used that kind of dirty “wasting oneself with pleasure” way of thinking to speculate about the Boss!
Simply…
Deserving of a thousand deaths!
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