She clearly had the brains to keep classified information under wraps, so... why the sudden slip?
Was this a psychological tactic?
No. That didn’t feel right.
It was confidence. Pure, effortless confidence. The kind that said, "No matter what you say, it won’t shake me."
And that’s why she could so casually mention looking into my family background—because to her, it was no big deal. Just business as usual.
She was like this in the novel too.
Even when Rin’s father—my father now—tried to pressure Velcrest Academy after his "son" died at the entrance ceremony, she never flinched. Not once.
Instead of folding, she turned the whole situation into an opportunity—to evaluate Ryen’s potential.
Looks like she was doing the same thing to me now.
She wanted an answer.
Something that would pique her interest. Something worth her attention.
This was a test.
And I couldn’t afford to mess it up.
The woman sitting across from me wasn’t just breathtakingly beautiful—she was a legend. Someone who had lived through wars that tore realms apart, negotiated peace between races that had been at odds for centuries, and commanded forces that even dragons hesitated to challenge.
She wasn’t here to babysit cadets.
She was here to shape the future.
And if she saw even a sliver of something useful in someone—power, intellect, ambition—she would make it hers.
That’s what she did.
That’s what she was.
A force of nature, wrapped in velvet words and a disarming smile.
I met her eyes. Calm, focused, piercing. Like she was staring through me and into something deeper.
I couldn’t hesitate. Not here. Not now.
"Chairman... I know you’re interested in me."
Not a lie. But not the whole truth either.
She blinked. "What are you talking about? Me, interested in a student?"
"Yes."
She narrowed her eyes for a second—then burst out laughing.
"That would be a scandal! Hah! Oh my, you really know how to make a woman laugh. Sorry to disappoint, but you’re far too young. Maybe try chasing me after two or three hundred years, hmm?"
As expected.
I didn’t flinch. I wasn’t the typical flustered protagonist.
Calm and composed, just like I planned.
She might’ve laughed, but I had her full attention now. Her poker face was immaculate, but I could tell—it cracked, if only slightly.
No one had ever done that before.
Maybe I really was on the verge of making history.
"Sorry to say, Chairman... I’m not interested in you romantically," I said with a straight face.
"Yes, you’re beautiful, but you’re a little too... ’OLD’ for me. I prefer someone closer to my age—or just slightly older. Not that much ’OLDER’."
Yeah, I was composed, but I wasn’t going to be a punching bag either. I knew how to dish it out.
I just hoped she wouldn’t kill me for it.
Judging by the look in her eyes... she might actually consider it.
Not good.
Time to steer this back on track.
"Hey, you—!"
"Let’s get back to the main topic, Chairman," I cut in, raising a hand. "We don’t have time for playful banter. And besides, killing a cadet is still a crime, last I checked."
She stared at me.
Then smirked.
"You’ve got quite the tongue on you. You’re lucky today... but you won’t always be. Now speak."
Whew.
Disaster averted—for now.
"As I was saying," I continued, "maybe you heard something from a professor about the entrance ceremony incident. Or maybe it’s because of that time I accidentally wandered into a dungeon with Professor Lena."
"Hm... Cadet Rin Evans, you certainly have a vivid imagination."
She was still composed, but she was clearly intrigued now.
Her smile was a touch tighter. Not mocking—calculating.
I could almost see the gears turning in her mind.
She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, and tilted her head slightly.
"Go on," she said, her voice smooth as silk.
Alright. No turning back now.
"I think you already know I’m not... exactly like the other cadets," I said carefully. "I don’t mean stronger or smarter. I mean different. I wasn’t supposed to be here—not like this."
She said nothing, but her eyes gleamed.
I paused, letting that settle.
"And that’s why you’re interested in me."
Silence.
She didn’t deny it.
Didn’t confirm it, either.
But the air in the room grew heavier, more focused.
Like she was finally taking me seriously.
"You think I’m hiding something," I continued, "and you’re not wrong. But it’s not dangerous. At least—not to you. Not to the academy."
Her expression finally shifted—subtle, but enough. A twitch of her brow. A flicker of curiosity.
Time to drop something just mysterious enough.
"I have... limited knowledge of the future."
At that, the Chairman’s expression shifted.
Her fake smile vanished. Her gaze turned sharp—cold, even.
"That’s quite a claim. Are you suggesting you have precognition? You realize that’s a talent only one people in the world are confirmed to have. And your registered gift is Enhancement, is it not?"
I smiled back.
"I’m not a prophet, and yes—my talent is Enhancement. But someone... showed me glimpses of the future."
Now she was intrigued.
I could see it in her eyes—she was trying to figure out whether I was bluffing or telling the truth.
But there wasn’t a single hint of a lie.
Yeah, my official talent was "Enhancement," nothing too flashy. But someone—or something—was feeding me glimpses of the future.
I called it the Setting Book. Others might call it the novel’s plotline. Names didn’t really matter.
What mattered was that I had knowledge no one else in this world did.
Now that she realized I wasn’t lying, the Chairman leaned forward ever so slightly, the gleam in her forest-green eyes intensifying. Her fingers drummed lightly against the armrest, an unconscious rhythm betraying her deep contemplation.
She wasn’t smiling anymore.
Good.
Now she was listening.
"Let’s say I believe you," she said slowly, voice laced with caution. "Let’s say someone gave you... glimpses. Visions. Warnings. Then the real question becomes: what have you seen?"
I shrugged.
"Bits and pieces. Enough to know that the terrorist attack at the entrance ceremony was just the beginning."
Her eyes narrowed again. "You’re saying there’s more?"
"I’m saying this place isn’t as secure as everyone wants to believe. And the ones responsible aren’t done yet."
For a moment, the room fell into complete silence.
Even the air seemed to still.
She was reading me. Measuring every breath, every word, every twitch of my expression. I knew the weight of this moment. One wrong move, and I’d lose whatever edge I had.
And yet—
"You’re not lying," she murmured, more to herself than to me. "At least, not about everything."
I didn’t reply. I didn’t have to.
She leaned back again, exhaling through her nose. Her expression unreadable once more.
"Do you know who they are?" she asked.
I do know but I can’t just tell her. That would disturb the plot and my only knowledge of future would be waste.
"No," I replied truthfully. "Not yet. I just know they’re more embedded than we thought. And that this isn’t some one-time attack. It’s a prelude."
Oh, right—did I forget to mention her name?
Serena Claudia.
A high elf.
One of those proud, mysterious beings who usually stay far away from the mess of the world. Most of her kind chose isolation, locking themselves away in a separate dimension.
But Serena? She was different. A free spirit. Curious. Adventurous. That’s why she left her people and their traditions to live here, to explore.
She’s merciless to her enemies, but incredibly generous to those she deems worthy.
"Alright," she finally said.
It looked like she had made up her mind.
I already knew what was coming next.
—So what are you going to do with that knowledge of yours?—
"You said you know the future, even if only part of it," she asked, her tone calm but probing. "What do you intend to do with that information?"
A little different than I remembered, but the essence was the same.
In the original story, Ryen got this question a bit later. His answer? He wanted to save as many people as possible.
Noble.
But I couldn’t say that. Not because it was wrong, but because it wouldn’t be true—not coming from me. And she would see right through the lie.
Fortunately, I knew what kind of answer would impress her.
"I’ll save the heroes."
"...What?"
Her expression shifted—confused, but curious.
Exactly the reaction I wanted.