Permission Granted by Didelai
At the Divine Princess Academy, Class A.
Wenfu was doing everything she could to reduce her presence, trying not to stand out. She swore she had done her best, yet no matter how nonchalant she pretended to be or how low she kept her head, she couldn’t hide the glaring fact that she was the only person at her table.
Other tables had several students each, but at the “Brilliant Sun and Moon” table, she was all alone, making her extremely conspicuous.
With the teacher’s gaze becoming increasingly telling, Wenfu, who was already thin-skinned, found it hard to keep up the act but had no choice but to force herself to stay calm.
“Wenfu.”
Finally, seeing that Wenfu had ignored multiple suggestive glances and was pretending to be oblivious, the teacher decided to speak directly.
“Ah, Teacher, I’m here.” Upon hearing her name called, Wenfu knew she couldn’t pretend any longer and reluctantly stood up.
“Your team seems unusually quiet today. Why is that?” The teacher coughed slightly, considering the special circumstances of “Brilliant Sun and Moon,” avoided being overly direct but felt compelled to intervene, giving an optional but necessary nudge.
“Huh? Quiet? But Teacher, you’re giving the lecture, so of course, we should be quiet to show our respect!” Perhaps after spending more time with Tillysha, even Wenfu had picked up the skill of cleverly evading while sounding entirely reasonable.
“Wenfu, I believe you misunderstood my question.” The teacher couldn’t help but twitch his lips, surprised that a good student like Wenfu would use his subtle questioning against him.
“I mean, why are you all alone today?” By this point, it was obvious what the teacher was referring to, and Wenfu knew she couldn’t continue feigning ignorance.
“Uh, sorry, Teacher. My teammates are feeling under the weather today, so they asked me to apologize and take leave for them.” Wenfu’s bright gaze darted around, as she hesitated to meet the teacher’s eyes after telling such a lie.
“They’re unwell?” The teacher behind the podium looked even more skeptical.
While it’s normal for a divine son’s health to occasionally falter, it’s rare for divine princesses to fall ill, and the prospect of some mysterious ailment capable of breaching their immunity seemed odd.
“Not exactly sick, they’re just a little off. It’s probably due to ‘Back-to-School Stress Syndrome’!” Wenfu spontaneously came up with a non-existent condition, improving her tall-tale skills from her time with Dillin.
“………..What is that disease?” The teacher’s gaze grew stranger. He had never encountered or heard of students suffering from such a condition in years of teaching. The name sounded entirely made up.
“It’s not a physiological issue, mew~ Apparently, it’s a kind of psychological illness!” Wenfu’s excuses were running low as her explanations began to falter.
“Ah, I see.” The teacher nodded, clearly recognizing Wenfu’s effort to cover up despite her desperate attempts. However, it was no secret that her minor ruse wouldn’t work on him.
Although the teacher did not press further at the time, he emphasized that those absent would need to submit explicit situation reports or risk losing credits.
At Coleman Academy, getting leave without a legitimate reason was no simple task.
By evening, Tillysha and her companions, who had spent the night plus a morning in the Witch Forest, had maximized the value of their overnight stay.
Upon returning to the dorm, they found Wenfu doing homework at her desk after a day of classes.
She passed the message from the teacher to the trio.
“Besides explaining the situation, a three-thousand-word report is required. Mew~ Sorry about that…”
“Of course, securing leave isn’t that easy.” Princess Filisia sighed, holding her forehead.
How many legitimate reasons exist to skip classes at the start of the term? The teacher didn’t misjudge them—their main teacher would likely react worse if he knew they skipped class after a night out drinking.
“Three thousand words…that’s a lot. I’ll probably have to skip practice today.” Princess Filisia was skilled in literature, but writing repentance-filled documents for three thousand words was genuinely burdensome.
Honestly, how much regret is there for just missing one drinking session? It’s not like they committed m*rder or arson. Princess Filisia might reflect on her actions, but even stretching it, all she could conjure were a bunch of mundane notes.
Long repentance essays seem to be a shared penalty in this world and the other one—aimed less at teaching what’s wrong and more at instilling a deterrent for future indiscretions.
How many so-called “self-reflection” essays can one earnestly write, detailing remorse over a thousand words?
Aistride remained mum. In her opinion, wrongdoing should be appropriately punished, similar to her daily penitent prayers to the Divine Mother. Everyone must own their actions.
As for Tillysha, she appeared nonchalant. After dinner, she pulled out a form, not a confession sheet, but a form for practicum courses for this semester.
The gap between first-year and second-year students in Coleman Academy doesn’t depend on age but on average scores and passing the examination. The test to move from first year to second year has never changed: surviving for seven days in the demon lands of Ruglien.
Assigning semester-long practicum in Ruglien could also fulfill the promotion requirement. However, there’s no avoiding the Ruglien trip this semester.
Tillysha intended to delve deeper into Ruglien but had to highlight one crucial point—Ruglien had shifted significantly this year. The absence of the Gluttonous Forest had drastically altered the internal ecological system, similar to the chaos caused by invasive species.
The recent Orc riots were emblematic of Ruglien’s internal instability, making it akin to Gotham City. It was evident that significant changes were afoot.
Tillysha planned to take this as a research topic for the new term. Of course, the report would be written in Dillin’s voice and notes.
With an active research topic, students could officially skip school, beyond the teacher’s control.
After finishing her document, Tillysha morphed into Dillin’s appearance and headed to the administration hall, greeted by the familiar bald teacher with the same old routine.
“What? A research report?? Did I hear you correctly? Young man, it’s not yet time for mid-term project submissions!”
“What does it mean submitting this now? Are you proposing to start the term’s practical research early??”
Seeing Dillin’s composed acknowledgment, the bald teacher glanced at the research form’s contents. The subject chosen was particularly stunning due to recent rumors of turmoil in Ruglien, which had already caused unrest in Coleman City. In these dangerous times, the “Brilliant Sun and Moon” team planned to explore Ruglien.
“Even if you’ve started practicum, this shouldn’t be something for first-year students.” The teacher was perplexed. “Even if you defeated Twilight Blaze, it’s still inappropriate.”
“Teacher, regardless of whether it’s practicum season, I do have the right to submit. Submission’s one thing, but approval is another, right?”
“Your request will not be approved.”
Despite the teacher’s words, Dillin wasn’t moved. His job was to submit; whether it was approved would be seen the next day.
“Such youthful bravado.” Watching Dillin leave, the teacher didn’t know whether to be impressed or worried.
Unable to ignore the submission, as a front desk officer, he followed protocol and handed the form higher up.
At breakfast the next morning.
For those unaware after the incident, aside from Tillysha, there were visible influences on the other two.
Now, even while eating, Princess Filisia kept glancing at Tillysha, while Aistride, after catching Tillysha’s gaze, would avert her eyes, lost in thought.
Imi, insightful and observant, noticed that only Tillysha seemed unchanged, proceeding as usual.
Princess Filisia’s cheeks still bore faint dark circles, a testament to the torment she endured writing the confession letter, exacerbated by the previous sleepless night. Aistride, however, was calm, as elves rarely required sleep.
“Princess Filisia, how’s the confession coming?” Wenfu asked.
“With punctuation, three thousand and three words, and that’s it.” Princess Filisia poked at her greens in the plate while complaining. “It’s killing my brain cells.”
“Done.” Aistride was curt. It was evident that such diligent students would not neglect the teacher’s assignment.
“Confession? Oh no, I forgot to write it.” Tillysha was completely nonchalant, stretching lazily.
“Eh? Tillysha, then what about the teacher…”
“You haven’t heard yet?” Tillysha twirled the report approved early that morning.
“Starting today, we can skip classes!”
“And if there are no classes, how can there be any issue with the report?”
“Practical Project?? Is that even allowed now?” Imi’s fine brows scrunched together cutely. “Didn’t I remember correctly?”
“Of course, but we’ve received the Dean’s special approval, so that’s an exception.”
“Dean?? Did Tillysha say Dean Didelai??”
“That’s right.” It’s worth noting that in such matters, having connections avoids many problems. Her application could directly reach Didelai, personally examined by him.
Didelai was quite understanding, unlike his pedantic predecessors who forbade students from risky ventures, and readily approved their plans, even wishing them safe travels in Ruglien.
“Wow, Tillysha was personally received by Dean Didelai! So jealous~”
“Hmm? What’s there to be envious of?”
“Don’t you know, Tillysha? Dean Didelai is a master in alchemy. That aside, he’s also achieved numerous innovations in medicine, enchantment, divine authority, world principles, and many more fields. A revered intellectual across the world!” Wenfu explained enthusiastically. “Even back home, we still rely on the medical system and alchemical medications pioneered by Mr. Didelai. My mother says since the demi-human kingdoms adopted the modern medical system, survival rates for severe illnesses have tripled, if not more!”
“Mr. Didelai generously shared these knowledge and alchemical formulas with all of us, even the entire world. Isn’t he a noble, humble man?”
So much, Didelai had accomplished?
Tillysha barely recalled her past memories, only knowing that Didelai was one of the Elders but didn’t stand out in terms of status or recognition. It was even possible that they hadn’t met previously.
Of course, this might be due to her incomplete memories. From Didelai’s unfamiliarity with her, it seemed he hadn’t met her, let alone any royalty.
If…
Tillysha thought. If she and Didelai had met in the past, did this mean Didelai had been deliberately pretending not to recognize her? The implications were self-evident.
Of course, it’s a big “if.” Tillysha was confident that Didelai had never met her.
It was merely unnecessary caution. Afterall, the man had been tirelessly helping her, working on the reconciliation between the Gold Elves and the Moon Elves. Yet, she had been overly suspicious.
But considering her situation, she decided not to share everything with Didelai, no matter how trustworthy.
After all, the stakes were too high.
Tillysha regretted not asking Bilodis for relevant information the last time she visited the Elf Sacred Tree. At the very least, she should have clarified who the current Moon Elf Elders were so she could evaluate the situation more effectively to identify any potential betrayers.
If she were the traitor, what would she do? Where would she hide? What would she consider the safest place?
These questions were too deep, too complex. Without knowing the traitor’s motivation, Tillysha felt at a loss on where to start.
