Ch. 24 - Still Fantasizing

After a bout of retching, a roar of laughter followed.

Their friends' complaints inevitably reminded Geya Yuexi of the article that had been harshly criticized last night—

'Return the nobles' money in full, split the common folk's money seventy to thirty.'

She had labored over the phrasing for ages before finally summarizing Lord Versace's actions that day on paper.

But her instructor's furious rebuke meant the academy could no longer tolerate any voice of truth.

And she still wanted to keep working at the academy—

Her appearance was her greatest advantage, but it also brought her a curse.

While it made her swim like a fish in social circles, it simultaneously turned her into a commodity whose beauty and body were coveted by far too many.

She yearned to maintain her independence, which was why she hoped to stay at the academy, supporting herself through teaching rather than having to please any noble at court.

Therefore, she was willing to set aside this insignificant desire for expression, heed her instructor's teachings, and uphold the academy's position.

Even if she couldn't help thinking—

"If only I could be like that poet on the monument, saying what I want to say, doing what I want to do, how wonderful would that be?"

Geya, and indeed all the dejected poets present, couldn't help fantasizing again.

Mentioning that poet, the junior student Suwen suddenly slapped his forehead:

"By the way, do you think new content will be carved onto the monument today?"

"Since it's in journal format, perhaps new content appears every day?"

"I'm rather curious what he'll write today. I'll tell you a secret—since last night I've been trying to compose music for his song, but I just can't capture that feeling of 'fuck the landlords, fuck this life.'"

The brown-haired poet who had vomited seemed unusually excited.

"Bruto, have you lost your mind? If the dean finds out, you'll be expelled from the academy!"

"Hey, relax. It's just us here, isn't it? If we don't spread it around, how will the dean hear about it? Unless you think Geya is some loose-tongued magpie?"

Bruto looked at Geya mockingly.

As a temporary teaching assistant and Ulasan's most accomplished disciple, her attitude was crucial:

"In fact, I also believe poets should have more freedom in their creative direction."

Actually, Geya herself didn't hold any particularly strong stance.

She just knew these people liked hearing this.

With a more conservative group of poets, she would use a different set of talking points.

But her words at least allowed everyone present to put their hearts back in their bellies:

"Geya, I believe you'll surely become a full professor and lead the academy through complete reform."

"May that day come quickly. I'm truly sick of writing all that flattering nonsense. Every day I stay at the academy only makes me feel bored... Look, now even drinking feels tedious."

"Our lives are utterly dull..."

"I have an idea!"

Suwen slapped his head,

"Why don't we go look at the monument again?"

"..."

The dormitory fell so silent that the cawing of crows outside the window became clearly audible.

Bruto let out a bitter laugh:

"What are you thinking? The dean has sealed off the entire central garden area. Without his permission, no one can approach the monument...

Wait, we do have Ge—"

"Sorry, I think I've had a bit too much to drink. Perhaps I should go back and rest."

Seeing the conversation about to turn to her again, Geya quickly feigned drunkenness and shook her head.

Please!

She could use her status as the dean's disciple to pass through the sealed garden.

But that didn't mean she was willing to be used as a tool!

Bruto was clearly targeting her. If she stayed any longer, she'd probably be pressured into doing things she didn't want to do.

Realizing this, Geya directly bowed to her friends:

"I wish you all a pleasant evening."

"Senior Geya—" Suwen tried to persuade her to stay, only to discover he didn't even have the ability to stand steadily.

By the time he fell to the ground and looked up again, Geya's graceful figure was already nowhere to be found.

"Bitch."

Bruto grunted and burped,

"She's only worked her way up to temporary teaching assistant because of that pretty face of hers, hasn't she? Won't even help with this little favor..."

"Senior Bruto, that's going too far." Suwen couldn't help but object.

"Hey, Suwen. Why don't you think about it properly—she's so young, hasn't even graduated yet, so how did she become a temporary teaching assistant ahead of schedule? What's her relationship with our bald dean? Don't you understand?"

"Bruto!"

Seeing him get more and more excessive, the other poets couldn't help but rebuke him,

"You're drunk."

"No—I'm more sober than anyone! What 'temporary teaching assistant,' sounds nice when you say it! That position was probably predetermined for her long ago, just because she—urgh!"

Bruto couldn't suppress the churning in his stomach and vomited on the bed again.

The others were about to say something when they saw his eyes close and he immediately passed out in that puddle of mush.

They exchanged glances and couldn't help shaking their heads:

"Junior Suwen, Bruto is actually a decent person.

Unfortunately, he and Geya are competitors.

And jealousy has blinded his heart."

Suwen didn't care about Bruto, only feeling fortunate that Senior Geya had left early and hadn't heard this jealous person's abuse.

But what he didn't know was that Geya, who had long since departed, had actually anticipated that she would be slandered behind her back.

But she understood—this was what she deserved.

"People are accustomed to attributing meaning to ugliness, accustomed to dragging beauty into the mud. As if doing so can demonstrate their benevolence and mask their jealousy."

Her heart was like a clear mirror, so she wouldn't care too much about all this.

However, when she passed through the academy's corridor and caught sight of the two construct guardians that the dean had hired to watch over the monument standing immobile in the direction of the distant garden—

The warm evening breeze of the summer night brushed across her cheek, making that rebellious thought stir restlessly.

"My instructor ordered me to find this poet, and therefore gave me special privileges allowing me to approach the monument.

So if I just observe it myself without spreading it around, there shouldn't be any problem..."

She wasn't someone who followed rules obediently.

The moment this defiant idea took root and sprouted in her heart, Geya had already taken the first step toward the garden—

"I just want to sneak a peek to see if that poet is merely a flash in the pan."

"That's right, perhaps the new story he's written won't meet my expectations?"

"Then I won't constantly think about him or fantasize about becoming him..."

She kept convincing herself in her mind until she stood before the two construct guardians.

As magical creations, their gorgeous armor contained only air, yet they retained the most basic consciousness.

The moment they detected Geya's approach, they raised their greatswords to block the visitor.

Geya pulled out a medal from her pocket that Ulasan had given her, engraved with the Wandering Song emblem:

"My instructor Ulasan permits me to pass through here."

The greatswords crossed before her eyes moved aside, and the construct guardians even turned their bodies to let Geya pass through easily.

When she stood at the base of the monument and looked up toward the starlight at the top, sure enough, she discovered a second 'star.'

[Lost Calendar Year 1000, June 8th, Starberry Town, Sunny.

The second day after being kicked out of the tavern, I encountered a kobold...]

At first, when she realized the author of this journal seemed to be recording one of the weakest subterranean creatures on the continent, Geya inevitably felt disappointed:

"As expected, a person's creative drive is limited. Even this poet inevitably records these boring details in a running log?"

[In fact, if I had merely encountered a kobold, there would be nothing worth recording—writing it in a journal would feel like a waste of ink and paper.

I'd wager that this kind of unremarkable creature, just like goblins, appearing in any article would be judged by readers as filler, forced content where there's nothing to write about.

But having said that, it's an intelligent kobold that independently learned the Common Tongue and spells in a short time.

And there might be a dragon behind it.

Now that's worth talking about.]

"Kobold? Dragon?"

Geya's gaze was involuntarily drawn downward by the content—

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