"Young master, it is time for you to take your bath."
The soft, respectful voice pulled me out of my sleep.
My eyes opened slowly, the lingering heaviness of rest clinging to my body for a brief moment before my mind fully caught up with reality. Pale morning light filtered through the curtains, casting faint streaks across the ceiling.
…Right.
Today.
Without wasting a second, I pushed myself upright and swung my legs off the bed. Any remaining drowsiness vanished instantly. Today wasn't a day I could afford even the slightest carelessness.
It was the day of my interview with the Headmaster of Silver Spire Academy.
"I'm awake," I replied calmly.
The maid bowed and stepped aside as I headed toward the bathroom. There was no need for further words—this routine had been drilled into me since the moment I entered this body.
Warm steam soon filled the spacious bathroom as the bath was prepared. The moment I submerged myself in the water, a quiet sigh escaped my lips. The heat seeped into my muscles, easing the lingering soreness left behind by yesterday's climb through the mountains.
Yet my thoughts refused to settle.
Silver Spire Academy.
The most prestigious institution on the continent.
A place where future legends were forged—and where the central figures of this world would eventually gather.
And standing at its apex…
Darian Crestmoor.
One of the SS-Rank individuals of this era.
The Headmaster himself.
A man whose mere name carried enough authority to silence entire halls. In the original storyline, Darian Crestmoor was not merely an administrator—he was a pillar of the academy. A silent guardian who only stepped forward when disaster threatened to tear the institution apart.
He was also one of the most influential supporters of the protagonist during multiple academy arcs.
A mentor.
A shield.
And, when necessary, an overwhelming force of authority.
I let the water run over my shoulders, carefully steadying my breathing.
Meeting someone like him was dangerous—not because he was hostile, but because he was perceptive. Darian Crestmoor wasn't a man who could be fooled easily. A single misstep, a single inconsistency, and I would draw the kind of attention I desperately wanted to avoid.
After finishing my bath, I dried off and returned to my room. A formal outfit had already been prepared—clean, elegant, and perfectly suited for an interview of this magnitude.
As I dressed, my reflection met my gaze in the mirror.
Calm.
Composed.
Unremarkable.
Perfect.
I had no intention of showcasing talent.
No intention of standing out.
No intention of becoming "interesting."
All I needed was acceptance.
Just enough to pass.
Just enough to exist within the academy as another forgettable student.
The protagonists would shine soon enough.
I didn't need to.
Straightening my collar, I took a slow breath.
Today marked the beginning of my life inside Silver Spire Academy.
And if everything went according to plan—
I would remain nothing more than an extra.
At least… for now.
I wasn't heading directly to Silver Spire Academy.
Instead, my destination was the Headmaster's private residence.
Yes—the interview would be conducted at his own estate.
"Anyway, the Duke suggested that you take fine-quality wine, young master," one of my assigned maids said hesitantly. "Are you certain you wish to visit him empty-handed?"
"Yes," I replied without hesitation. "If I bring him anything today, he'll see it as a bribe."
Even if someone gifted the Headmaster an entire castle, it wouldn't earn his favor.
"We've arrived," the carriage driver announced.
I glanced out the window.
The Crestmoor estate spread before me in quiet grandeur. As imposing as a royal palace, its white marble walls and dark blue rooftops radiated authority and refinement. It was a residence befitting someone who stood at the pinnacle of both power and influence.
Stepping out of the carriage, I felt a faint knot tighten in my chest.
I was about to meet the Headmaster of Silver Spire Academy—who also happened to be the current head of House Crestmoor.
Still… wasn't it excessive?
Managing the academy while overseeing an entire noble house… how did he even manage both?
Then again, I already knew the answer.
He didn't have a choice.
The thought made me wince briefly.
I shook my head and muttered under my breath, "Not my problem. That's his burden, not mine."
"Let's go," I said.
As I approached the front doors, the guards exchanged brief glances upon noticing the crest embroidered on my coat. After a silent nod, they allowed me entry.
Inside, two elderly maids greeted me.
"Please come this way."
I followed them to the first floor, where they gestured toward a door at the center of the corridor.
"He is waiting for you in his study," one of them said.
Before knocking, I reviewed my plan one final time.
The Headmaster was a sharp man. Any hesitation, any flaw in my wording, and everything would collapse.
With that in mind, I knocked.
"Come in."
A cold, aged voice answered from the other side.
Despite my preparation, my hand paused briefly before pushing the door open.
Creak—
The sight that greeted me was unexpected.
Coiled papers, metallic springs, and scattered gears littered the floor, as if a workshop had collided with a study. Yet despite the chaos, the room itself was immaculately furnished.
Behind a massive desk sat a man in his early sixties. His black hair was streaked with faint purple strands, round glasses resting on his sharp eyes. Wrinkled hands moved swiftly as he scribbled across the pages before him, flipping through documents without looking up.
The moment my gaze settled on him, a translucent screen appeared before my eyes.
--- 「Analyze」 ---
Name: Darian CrestmoorLevel: SS-Race: HumanAge: 63
Affinities: 🔒Affinities and skills are locked due to insufficient level.
----------------_
I dismissed the information immediately and bowed politely.
"It's an honor to meet you, Headmaster Raizen."
He didn't look up.
Instead, he pointed toward a small glass table near the corner of the room.
"You may begin," Darian said coldly. "And try not to waste my time."
I walked over and picked up the single sheet of paper resting there.
Three questions.
Plenty of blank space beneath each.
…A test?
My grip tightened ever so slightly.