A short while later.
After finishing his meeting with Phoenix, Professor Ederson returned to the instructor’s office, where a man was already waiting for him.
“Your Highness the Crown Prince.”
“Dean Ederson.”
It was Julius Keyarnim, the Student Council President.
Rather than attaching the empire’s name to himself as is customary, he preferred to act as if “Student Council President” was his true title. However, Ederson immediately sensed it from Julius’s expression.
“Have you finally cast aside your student council image and chosen to become a true servant of the Empire?”
“I’m here as Student Council President… but also as the Crown Prince of the Empire.”
For a young man who usually tried to remain in the most neutral position possible, to now approach him from such a selfish and political stance—Ederson knew it was serious.
“What did you speak about with Student Phoenix?”
“I’m afraid that’s something I cannot disclose to Your Highness.”
“And why not?”
“Because I have come to know the truth of the world… and its ugly underbelly.”
“…?”
Julius tilted his head, confused, but Ederson firmly shook his head, clearly unwilling to say more.
How could he possibly explain?
That the long history of discrimination against the beastfolk stemmed from the Goddesses and Angels’ repulsion toward body hair, originating from their obsession with maintaining smooth, hairless relationships between women.
Phoenix had emphatically said at the end, “You absolutely, absolutely, absolutely must not misunderstand this,” but Ederson could still feel the gap in that statement—what was left unsaid.
“Julius. You are the descendant of one of the Four Founders of Esdinas Academy—the ‘Emperor.'”
“…Are you saying that something in my conversation with Phoenix should make me reflect deeply on my bloodline?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. But I’ll say this much—you may one day experience a tremendous shock.”
“…More shocking than the Emperor suddenly disappearing after abdicating everything to his younger sibling and establishing the Academy?”
“…”
“Do you know why the Emperor’s descendants—especially those who seek the throne—enroll at Esdinas Academy? It’s to trace the footprints of the Founder. To understand why someone who wielded near-absolute power would relinquish the imperial throne to his despised younger sibling, and go so far as to ask them to help build this Academy.”
“Officially, it’s said he did it to nurture future generations.”
Sure, people can step down to raise someone—especially if it’s their child. Society understands that sort of sacrifice.
But the Emperor?
Not just any Emperor—this was the man who united a collection of kingdoms into a massive, centralized empire by bringing together the other Heroes.
He became the one who wielded absolute authority—yet abandoned all of it to create an Academy, not for the citizens of the Empire, but for all humankind, alongside his former comrades?
“Many people question the Founder—‘The Emperor.’ Historians continue to analyze his life and agonize over it. Most of them reach the same conclusion.”
“The Emperor wasn’t that kind of man.”
“Indeed. His life, even as a prince, was well-documented. He was a man of justice. Even though he could have become the Hero chosen by the Holy Sword, he held no jealousy when a simple farm boy was chosen instead. He stood by him and fought together.”
“…”
The Emperor was a hero. The nobles who gathered around him to support him were all heroes in their own right.
“If the Emperor had ever strayed from the path, someone would have stopped him. Even with the Hero, the Saint, and the Sage by his side—someone would have spoken out. Even the Beastfolk King did so at the time, didn’t he?”
“Yes. Though I was more connected to the Sage’s side of things.”
“In the end, they all made choices for the sake of the greater good. And because of those choices, Esdinas Academy enjoys the status it holds today.”
“…That’s true.”
“I believe the resolve you possess, Dean Ederson, is very much like theirs. Even when faced with difficulties or harsh realities, you understand more than anyone that your efforts are not merely for personal benefit.”
“Aren’t you flattering me a bit too much? Don’t tell me this is a recruitment pitch from the Empire?”
“If you refuse the offer, then I’ll have to ask you for a favor instead.”
Crown Prince Julius smiled faintly and tapped his ear.
“I want to know what you discussed with student Phoenix.”
“…Very well. I have no reason not to tell you, and you may well be the one best positioned to address this matter.”
“A matter of the Empire?”
“Orphans. Abandoned children.”
Julius flinched.
Of course, he himself was not an orphan—but he was well aware of the Empire’s darker issues, including the crisis of abandoned children.
“Particularly…girls.”
“I won’t deny it. So? Are you saying—?”
“Phoenix suggested establishing an ‘orphanage,’ no—a nursery, as a branch of Esdinas Academy.”
“…That.”
Julius’s expression turned serious.
“Will it only be for girls?”
“Just because Phoenix proposed it doesn’t mean he’s only thinking of helping girls.”
“Right. I figured.”
“Yes. The nursery would not separate children by gender. Perhaps… this is related to the will of the Founder—the [Emperor].”
“The Founder’s will…?”
“Back then, it couldn’t be realized due to budget constraints. But if you look at the structure of the Old School Building, you’ll find spaces suited for it. Not for students on the cusp of adulthood, but places where kids around age 10 could stay. Yet, due to various circumstances, they couldn’t support children back then.”
“……So even after 500 years, you intend to finally realize it.”
“Yes.”
“Did Phoenix—”
* * *
“Just to make it clear, I have absolutely nothing to do with the Four Founders.”
After discussing the nursery, I made sure to announce this in front of the other students gathered in the Old School Building.
“Of course. Even if there was some connection, you’re saying there’s absolutely no relation to the Four Founders themselves, right?”
“Exactly. And just to make it clear, I have no ties to the Headmaster or Vice-Headmaster who aren’t present right now either. I’m just someone who came to this land to spread the beauty of love between men and women, harmonious families, and the prosperity of life that springs from them.”
I meant every word.
“I’ll ask the Princess of the Di Ercy Empire.”
“Uh, huh? You’re just going to say that all of a sudden…?”
When I pointed directly at Evangeline, she looked flustered at first, but quickly straightened up with a noble expression befitting a princess.
“How many orphans are abandoned in the Empire every year?”
“Um… maybe around 3,000? W-Wait, don’t look at me like that. That’s already counting the ones the Church of the Goddess takes in at orphanages and such.”
“Evangeline. Then doesn’t that mean there are children who don’t even make it into that group of 3,000?”
“Uh… that’s true.”
“So the actual number must be even higher, right?”
At my words, Evangeline slowly nodded, her expression growing heavier.
“I don’t know the exact number beyond that…”
“Do you know why those children are abandoned?”
“Because their families can’t afford to raise them.”
“Right. But… isn’t that strange? In a country where most people are farmers, even a child who’s about eight years old can already contribute meaningfully as labor.”
This is a medieval fantasy era.
It’s still a mostly agricultural society, where farm labor is absolutely essential.
“Yunia. Why do you think that is?”
“Maybe because labor’s not really needed anymore…? I mean, magic can take care of everything now.”
Yunia, who came from a remote rural village, found it hard to understand.
“Isn’t that right?”
“Yunia, how many people lived in your village?”
“Less than a hundred, I think…”
“Did you all struggle to eat or starve?”
“No, not at all. We lived very comfortably. Everyone used magic for farming, so…”
Ah.
Yunia’s eyes widened in realization, and the others in the room gulped silently.
“…I guess most farmers don’t get help from mages when they farm.”
“Exactly. That’s right. Most farming is done purely with human strength.”
“Oh, I-I didn’t know that… Then maybe… the children who get abandoned are the ones without talent for magic?”
“Correct. You hit the mark.”
So then, what kind of orphans are being abandoned?
“The world we live in discards children who can’t even reach the minimum standard—those who don’t meet even a C-rank for admission into Esdinas Academy.”
“…”
“Boys, at least, can be used in some way. Places like the Thieves’ Guild, violent gangs, or mercenary circles can make use of eight-year-old boys for menial labor.”
“And the girls…”
“Girls can work too, sure, but things change when they reach adulthood, don’t they? The ones raising them aren’t doing it to marry them off—they’re investing ten years to raise someone who can work for forty. Most aren’t interested in raising a future wife for someone else.”
“So you’re saying the nursery is… for girls?”
“Wrong.”
I was firm on that.
“It’s a nursery for children. It doesn’t matter whether they’re boys or girls. And more importantly… a place for only girls would be a problem.”
Because ultimately, the nursery is also a weapon—to stand against Heaven.
“I’m someone who wants to see boys and girls who met in the nursery at age seven bicker and grow up together… and then, when they become adults, get married after thirteen years of friendship and build a happy family.”
A “yuri breeding ground”?
A place like that is nothing more than prey for the Angels.
“That’s why I asked the Vinyudan—the Blue Fire Squad—to send lots of ‘that item’ over. Senior Yurha… do you understand now?”
“Ah, yes. At first I was wondering why you made that request, but now it makes sense.”
“…What item?”
Yurha rubbed her fingers together subtly.
“I made sure most of the staff overseeing the Blue Fire Squad were handsome men—not women.”
That’s right.
All roads lead to Kyun Kyun.
