Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor - Chapter 267: Karina Maeril [5]

Chapter 267: Karina Maeril [5]

Beatrice Maeril.

A brilliant professor and scholar who fell into mediocrity for one simple reason.

She lacked merits.

Or rather, she was made to lack them.

Most of the work that could have made her famous would be taken from her. Papers she would submit for review would then be submitted under someone else’s authority and name.

Discoveries credited to senior figures who had done nothing but sign their names. With no proof and no backing, Beatrice had been boxed into a corner, left with no path upward, condemned to remain an academy lecturer despite her capability.

That was the extent of her world.

“Pardon? What did you just say the benefits are?”

Until one day, an opportunity arrived.

The offer came directly from the Empress’s research division. Access to imperial-grade facilities. Unlimited funding for mana-related experimentation. Priority treatment for immediate family. Medical coverage that surpassed even noble privileges.

And, most alluring of all, recognition.

Her name would be attached to the work.

For someone like Beatrice, it had been salvation. So, naturally, she accepted.

What she did not know at the time, however, was what the work truly entailed.

At first, everything sounded tragic. The Imperial Princess suffering from a terminal illness, and a mother who wished to save her at any cost.

Beatrice was moved by that very purpose. She believed in it. She devoted herself to the research with sincerity, unaware that the price demanded was far greater than she had ever imagined.

In the end, what emerged was a Beatrice Maeril who did not even realize she herself had been afflicted with a terminal illness. Worse still, none of the benefits promised to her were ever fulfilled.

The future she had been shown never existed.

It was a betrayal.

Yet she was nothing more than a commoner. Someone who had never even once spoken directly to the Empress outside of formal work matters.

To complain would be meaningless, and to resist would be dangerous.

At best, she would be dismissed. At worst, she might disappear with no one to remember her. And Beatrice could not take that risk. She was a single mother who had a daughter waiting for her.

Abandoning her daughter, Karina, was something she could never allow, not in this life or any other.

So Beatrice returned to her work quietly.

She resumed her days as an academy professor, forcing herself to forget the tragedy within the walls of the research facility.

She did not look back, choosing to survive by pretending it had never happened. After all, from what she knew, her colleagues who chose to protest had all been… silenced.

“….”

One day, a certain boy chose to enroll in the very academy where she worked.

Beatrice remembered him, though not clearly, and never from up close, but enough. She had only ever watched him from a distance, yet the impression he left behind had not faded.

“I’m Vanitas Astrea. Let’s all get along.”

The introduction made her pause. From what she recalled, his name had been Zen. At least, that was what the Empress had always called him.

So what was this?

She was certain it was the same boy, yet the name did not match. Had she been mistaken all this time, or was he deliberately using another name?

“Uh-huh.”

Vanitas Astrea was assigned to her class.

As the days passed, Beatrice observed him more closely. The boy she remembered had once been lively. But now, he seemed like a shell of his former self, choosing to interact coldly and distantly with everyone around him.

He kept his peers at arm’s length, and in turn, they treated him as an outsider.

Naturally, he became a target of bullying and isolation, though only through words.

Whoosh——

Because the boy was talented in magic. They could not overcome the thirteen-year-old who had shown overwhelming talent in wind magic.

“Remarried… I see…”

It appeared that his mother, a colleague of hers at the facility, had remarried into nobility. The father, whoever he was now, had legally changed the boy’s name along with it.

“How is your mother these days?”

“Mother is dead.”

“….”

He was difficult to approach. And more than that, he felt closed off in a way Beatrice could not easily bridge.

She found herself at a loss whenever she tried to speak with him, unsure of where to begin or how far she was allowed to go.

Nevertheless, Beatrice tried to peer into the boy’s heart.

From what she could tell, he was living with personal troubles far heavier than he let on.

It was evident in the small details.

Even when most of his peers had already gone home, Vanitas would still be at the academy late into the night, studying or sleeping in empty halls and unused classrooms.

“What are these?”

When she finally tried to step closer, she noticed bruises hidden under his sleeve.

“Mind your own business, you hag.”

“….”

Beatrice felt a sting at his words. The boy certainly had a way with words.

“Should I knock some sense into you, boy?”

“Try it. I’ll report you to the academic board.”

“…”

There was no winning with this boy.

For days on end, Beatrice tried to get closer to him. Yet no matter what she did, the barrier around him only seemed to grow more impenetrable with each attempt.

“You can just ignore him. A boy like that will get humbled soon enough.”

Her husband, Roman Neuschwan.

They had met three years ago. Roman had been a journalist who had taken a keen interest in the Empress’s research facility and begun looking far too deeply into matters best left untouched.

After a firm warning from Beatrice, he had quietly withdrawn, and around that time, many of her former colleagues had been silenced. Roman had been grateful for her intervention, unaware of what his fate might have been had he continued his investigations.

As time passed, the two grew closer. What began as a fateful meeting turned into familiarity, and familiarity into trust.

Eventually, they married out of convenience. Lower taxes, shared income, basically a simpler life on paper.

Yet Beatrice did not dislike the arrangement. She liked him. Roman was a good man.

And more than that, he accepted her daughter as if she were his own, and for Beatrice, that alone mattered more than any reason they had written on the documents.

“I can’t do that.”

Roman sighed. “Well, if I were in your position, Beatrice, I’d give him a stern warning. Some kids just can’t be talked to. And on top of that, he clearly doesn’t respect you as a teacher.”

“I know,” Beatrice agreed. “But there’s something about him. I can’t explain it. It feels wrong to treat him like just another problem student.”

Roman glanced at her, his expression softening.

“I’m just saying this as your husband,” he said. “Don’t get too involved with nobles. You told me he has bruises on his arms and that he’s having problems at home. Don’t those signs point to domestic abuse?”

Beatrice fell silent.

She had thought the same thing. The marks hidden under his sleeves. The way he remained at the academy long after everyone else had gone. The coldness in his voice whenever his family was mentioned. None of it felt accidental.

“If that’s the case,” she said, “then turning a blind eye would be worse.”

“…You know how nobles handle things like this.”

“I do,” Beatrice replied. “But I don’t want to ignore a child who’s clearly expressing a distress signal for help.”

“Just be careful. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Yes….”

After that day, Beatrice became more proactive with her approach.

“Have you eaten? I seem to have made too much for myself. If you’d like—”

“Not hungry.”

But despite his words, his stomach growled.

“Are you having trouble with the lessons? If you want, I could walk you through them.”

“I’m not. This is all kindergarten level. I had a personal tutor far more capable than you back then.”

Yet his notes told a different story. His hand paused before writing, and as Beatrice scrutinized his notes, the answers were incomplete.

“Are you not going home, Vanitas? The academy’s about to close.”

“Whatever.”

Rain poured outside. Beatrice lifted her umbrella and glanced around. There was no car waiting, and no attendant in sight. Despite being from a Viscount’s household, no one had come to fetch him.

“Teacher, didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?” he asked with a frown.

“Do you want to stay at my place?”

“No thanks. It’s probably cramped.”

She ignored the remark.

“Today’s my daughter’s birthday,” Beatrice continued. “My husband prepared a feast for us. If you’d like, I can—”

“Sounds nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” she said, seizing the opening. “She’s three years younger than you, but she’s a bundle of sunshine. I think you’d—”

“Goodbye, teacher.”

The boy stepped into the rain without an umbrella, his figure disappearing into the downpour.

Beatrice frowned and let out a sigh. It really was difficult to get close to him. He was such a problematic brat that, at times, she found herself wanting to knock some sense into him.

But she knew better.

That was not the way.

School was supposed to be a second home for every child. And if he truly was being abused at home, then Beatrice did not want him to fear school as well.

For just a moment, Beatrice followed him.

She told herself it was only to see where he was headed. Yet as she trailed him through the streets, she realized he was not going home at all.

The boy wandered aimlessly through the Empire until he was finally exhausted. In the end, he stopped under a stretch of roofing and sat there, as if that alone was enough.

Vanitas was drenched and shivering, hugging himself.

Beatrice watched him for a moment with concern. Then she took a dry towel from her purse and approached him from behind. Without alerting him, she began drying his hair.

“What are you—”

He slapped her hand away and turned sharply, only to freeze when he realized who it was.

Beatrice said nothing. She simply stepped closer and resumed wiping his hair dry.

“Stop it, you hag!”

“You’ll get sick if you stay like this.”

“Mind your own business,” he snapped, swatting at her hand again. “I told you already. Go away.”

“You’re soaked to the bone. At least let me finish drying your hair.”

“I don’t need you. I’ve been fine on my own.”

He turned his face away, as if bracing himself for something worse than rain.

“Fine?” Beatrice echoed. “You’re shaking.”

“So what?”

He frowned.

“Go home, teacher,” he spat. “Don’t follow me around like this. I’ll report you for stalking—”

The wind blew harder. Rain dripped from the edge of the roof and splashed against the stone. Vanitas sniffed, then tried to hide it.

A second later, his body jerked.

“Ah—Achoo!”

Beatrice stopped. She sighed, then folded the towel around his shoulders without asking.

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Beatrice replied. “And you don’t need to be.”

He glared at her, but his eyes lacked their usual sharpness.

“Come with me,” she said. “You can take a hot bath, dry yourself properly, and warm up. My place isn’t far.”

“I’m not going,” Vanitas replied at once. “I’m not free charity. What? Does it boost your ego by taking pity on me? Why do you keep bothering me, you damned hag—ow! Ow! Hey!”

“Yes, yes,” Beatrice said, grabbing him by the ear. “Now let’s go. My daughter will be quite thrilled that we have a guest.”

“Let go! I told you I don’t need this. I don’t need you.”

Nevertheless, Vanitas was eventually dragged to Karina’s birthday party.