Sweet Reincarnation

boarding officer school in Wangdu.

It is a prestigious school that boasts history and tradition and has produced a number of notorious generals.

One of them. In one of the rooms assigned as a teacher's office, there were still young instructors and younger youth facing each other than that.

"Huh? What did they say now?

"You really don't listen to people, do you? I'll just tell you one more time, so listen carefully. I made a recommendation so I could teach you to be a Mortairn instructor. You don't have to come to me anymore in the future. You got that?

"Oh no..."

Prohol-Agarpov was strongly negatively shocked by the words of the instructor who was teaching him himself. From the face, I feel a little bloody. Be pessimistic about your future.

Skinny and white. The lines are thin on the face and the reddish cheeks make you feel young. Young people with an overall sneaky impression. It is not as tall, and there is an atmosphere that is mostly due to the fact that it immediately looks downward with the bending.

If the world were the world, it wouldn't have to be called a beautiful boy, but it doesn't look good enough to suspect that the current state of complexion, or possibly disease, is getting worse.

That and this are all influences of the language of the instructor.

In the first place, Prohor's home was a squire serving a certain Count's house, but due to the recent sudden inclination of his home, he had a history of being thrown into boarding cadet school just to get a job in his hands. You have to graduate for the future of the house. And there was a mission to connect the edge with the powerful and find a better contractor.

I was fortunate to be able to mentor instructor Randian from the edge of the home connection. Because some boarding officer school instructors blatantly despise humans like Prohor, a non-aristocratic class. Rather than that, because it is originally a school for noble children, all systems and facilities are prepared on the assumption that they are noble people, and the pro-hole is very small and treated as a “foreign object”.

Not many teachers felt out of place for the non-aristocratic classes receiving “education for nobility," and were often seen with strange eyes, even if not by words.

In comparison, Instructor Randian was fair. At least, I did not make a difference in the content of my education with or without nobility, nor did I blatantly disdain my noble children.

However, it is discriminated against by excellence or not.

Prohor is not an idiot, as you can see from passing the entrance exam for the cadet school. You're smarter. But when there is mental weakness, I admit it to myself. This is why I break Prohor as an inferior student by being a Randian instructor. Can you bear the responsibility and the heavy pressure of keeping many lives in the hands of a weak person? If you ask me that, I have to say it makes sense.

But there are aspects to that that we cannot help. As a squire person, it was a life I've served people ever since I was born, and I thought I was going to serve my home all my life, because I was thrown into a place where more highly qualified people than my home were gobbled up. Like a herbivore thrown into a cage where the beasts are.

The person who feels most out of place is the other person. I have been imprinted with awe and awe of the noble, and it is only natural that my mind and body should be awed by it.

But even if I knew I was, I still have negative feelings about being able to poke facts at me. Because it's like they said you don't need it, you don't deserve to be taught.

Prowl squeezes out words as he bites his lips off all the time.

"... excuse me"

After leaving the instructor's office, Prohor fell on his way. I don't know what to do anymore.

What the hell did you do? Why, after all the hard work I have done, is it in my eyes to be abandoned? Regrettably. More sad than that. Ask again and again why.

No, I really do. Because I feel sorry for myself. Not as good a lineage as a nobleman, not as competent as others from the squire class, not as gold as those from the civilian wealthy. As a teacher, I can't help but be abandoned because I have no more advantages than my duty as a teacher. Yes, I try to convince myself.

I felt tears in my eyes. Again, anything you regret is regrettable.

Tied his lips together into a single letter, he turned his foot to where he was always going.

An unfamiliar environment, a cadet school for nobility, every day despised as falling. I've been chased to study at all times, and I don't have any friends because I don't have the aggressiveness to talk to them from myself. It's all about depression. Like today, I often want to cry.

That's when I always go to the north side of the building. A place to be a shadow not in the sun. It's just the right place for people not to lean in and cry alone.

"Is that it?"

But in a place like that, there was a client. A man not so old as himself, was crying.

I guess I noticed the prowl. The opponent hurriedly wept, his eyes wandered, and he rang.

"... hey, what, hey, for?

Humans, even when they're sad, sometimes when they see people crying more than they do, they can be fuzzy and calm.

Prowl rubs his own eyes, which were red.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think people were here."

Behind the building. A wet, dark, hard to understand, shady place. I didn't even think that there were other people using this place besides myself, just places that normal people wouldn't come to.

"... Ki, Ki, you, me, me, the same?

"Same?"

"Or that something sad happened, or something"

Sad. Oh, maybe so.

There is also remorse. There is also frustration. There is anger. But there is also as much sadness. Yes, Prohor noticed.

"You too?

Prohor questioned.

I also thought I knew, but I guess there was something sadder than crying.

"The instructor told me not to come. Fuck, fuck, I got fired."

Same thing. Prowl blinked lightly. I was surprised. That there were people who felt the same way when they were being ignored by their instructors. At the same time, I feel a strong sense of intimacy. Comrades sharing hard feelings. I felt that way.

"Me too."

Neither. Each other, hiding silently in the shadows of the building, crouching into the jittery ground. And, rarely for a pro hole that shouldn't be good with people, I start introducing myself.

Maybe because I don't know who I am.

Because this school is also a social place for noble children, no one, such as Prohor, who is not noble, is in the eye, and Zara is also treated as a disturber.

Like other followers, I can't abandon my shame enough to blatantly get into a high-ranking nobleman and sesame, I'm not as wealthy as the people who bought admission credentials with gold, and I'm not so sociable that I can brightly treat others from myself.

Therefore, for young people who have come to flee nature and people, the more they count, except for celebrities such as people who know their names. Conversely, there are also few people who would know about themselves. That's why I introduced myself.

In fact, the other guy didn't know about Pro Hol or anything. When exchanging first-person greetings, the opponent is named Digidelio-Mill-Harbonch. He was a young man with a foul, gloomy atmosphere, but he was born in the Associate Baron's house. This is the first time we've known each other's names, close to each other, and a strange relationship between them.

"I, too, just told Instructor Randian I don't have to come anymore."

"... well"

The prowl, still a little red in the nose, talks pompous as he rinses his nose.

Being born into a squire house, the fact that my husband leaned and my salary was reduced, that I am carrying the expectations of my parents, that my parents are also forcing me to go to school, that I can't escape if I want to, that I work hard every day to study, that I don't have oil money and that I study under the window at night, that I can't achieve what I think inside, that I am seen with white eyes as a fallen student.

And that he was finally abandoned by the instructor.

Digidelio was listening. I don't know, there must have been something in my mind.

Where the red-nosed pro-hole calmed down, he spoke of himself.

"Ji, Ji, I have a habit..."

The muscle path itself is clear and organized while it is difficult to listen to the habit of stuttering in conversations. Prowl just listens to that.

Digidelio said he was weak at a young age. He said he spent most of his time on the bed from birth to over eight years of age. Besides, because the food was too thin, it seemed like it would have been prolonged for days if the fever had gone out.

I can't socialize normally as a nobleman, and I don't know enough to bring my children to visit me. Besides, the house is a poor aristocrat. His friends, who were young, bought it pitifully by their parents for their situation, only botanical drawings. It is a precious item with a polite pattern in a leather fitting, but it rubs off over and over again, until the book loses its function as a book, so much so that it remembers all the contents.

Around the age of ten I was able to play somewhat outside, then I finally started working out my body and where I got my minimum physical strength, I was going to enroll in boarding officer school. It was really the lowest line, but we were mocking ourselves.

Apparently, the teacher I taught was a practitioner who used to be active on the battlefield and was also awarded a medal. The fact that it was a far-fetched connection between my parents' cones, my natural physical weakness, my lack of physical and muscular strength that I was critical to enrollment, and the amount of workout that was clearly inferior. They seemed dissatisfied with teachers who weighed in on practical skills, and they were to be able to work out even more rigorously than other students.

A world where there is no such word as overexercise or overtraining. I don't even realize that training that can be tolerated by people who are sufficiently basement from the beginning can be over-training for people who are not basement ready.

Teachers say it's a day of reprimand that you can only achieve less than the crowd while training more than people.

And finally today, I was told that I had nothing to teach from now on. It's a de facto declaration of letting go.

"From now on, instructors Mo, Mol and Mortairn told me to tell you."

"Neither do I. I wonder what kind of instructor he is."

Prohor sometimes had thin connections when he entered school, and all the blind instructors looked into it. Because I thought there might be an instructor who could teach me personally, regardless of where I came from.

Of those, the most tolerant instructor from whom he came was the Randian instructor, but he was given time out of it. It would be natural to anticipate who he is more than having to teach a new instructor.

But think.

If there had been a better instructor than instructor Randian, you would have noticed when you entered school. I guess the other options are worse because I should have chosen the best option. I have the pride of choosing the best because I am the one who considered the teachers more seriously than anyone else at school.

The fact that I can't remember what kind of teacher I was, at least I wasn't there when I started school, or was it so bad that I didn't have to remember or even feel like choosing? Whatever it is, I can only imagine it in a bad direction.

"Hey, new guy, I thought you were a teacher."

"A new instructor?

Unlike Prohor, Digidelio is noble. Because of their thin workouts and their luxurious body and stuttering tone, they tend to wind up far away in places of interaction, but at first they have a relationship between nobles.

There are also some handouts for exchanging information, so I also heard that a new instructor is coming quickly. Above all, even people out of the mainstream hear rumors because the rumor lord is an indispensable typhoon-like person in the house.

"Oh well. But Mortairn? Which house?"

"Mo, with Mortairn, speaking, there is only one"

"Huh? Could it be that mortarn? Of a ghost knight?

Digidelio concurred with the question of the feeble youth.

When it comes to the Mortairn family, it is also a famous house in the Kingdom of God. Ghost Knight, Neck Hunter Knight, Parent Stupid Wizard, Running Knight, War Hero, etc. In my bachelor years I was pretty hot, so I've also been called "Night Grandeur“ and so on. Whatever the number of calls and two names, the one to refer to is the Baron Mortairn Headmaster Casserole. Mortairn, as they both call it, also refers to this.

In other words, they did not know that it was Pastry who came as a teacher, and only heard the family name Mortairn and imagined the visions of Caserol.

The patron saint of a country that embodies a thousand horsemen. A person in a standing tradition made up of magic. A living legend who has given numerous handles on the battlefield. What the two sitting around imagine is a big man, nearly three metres tall, with a hairy twinkle, rumbling around using thick muscle armor.

"... I guess it's gonna be tough training"

"Oh, I guess so. … but let him quit school and also have a choice"

Unfortunate circumstances. If, in addition to that, hell is waiting for you, you have the courage to quit. Or maybe he's trying to quit from himself.

Digidelio spits out words as he tells himself.

"I don't want to run away here... I guess"

If you quit now, there's nothing left. I also betrayed my parents' expectations and just let Dob throw the money away, and the title of the loser will be attached for the rest of my life.

I don't like that, Prohor says. Behind his crying and reddening eyes, he caught a glimpse of incompatible heat and flames in his appearance.

"Well, then, stay and say hello to the new instructor, let's go"

If it had been alone, if it had been just one or the other, maybe I would have spent it crying as it were. He could have escaped. But be determined to stay on foot.

In the same situation, it was unnecessarily comforting to have company who talked about misfortune.

The two new friends were brave enough to jump into the invisible cliffs ahead and decided to go say hello to their new instructors.

Fortunately, I never got lost in a familiar school.

Until recently, it was vacant, one of the instructor's rooms.

The name plate of the door had the name Mortairn. This letter alone makes me feel a lot of weight.

"Excuse me."

"Yes, go ahead"

It was one boy who squeezed his courage and welcomed the two men into the room.

"Is that it?"

Is the instructor away? Prohor and Digidelio both thought the same thing.

To see, if a child younger than yourself is sitting in the teacher's chair, naturally think he's lost or something. I wonder if it's a teacher's child, etc. Although we look at each other and ask each other without speaking out about what it means, we can't possibly figure out the answer.

I guess you can see the confusion between the two of them. It was the boy sitting in the chair who broke the strange silent conversation.

"What's up?

"Oh, we were supposed to be taught by Instructor Mortairn. I came to say hello, where's the instructor?

Prowl to answer discipline. The boy's voice was an adorable one for the year. It doesn't seem like it's just because you look like a child, in fact, an old, special race.

I look around temporarily, but I still don't see a teacher-like adult in the room.

I'm right in front of you.

"Huh?"

"I'm the new instructor. Pastry-Mil-Morthern. I thought you had a name plate on the table, too?

If you look closely at me when I'm told, the boy was hanging the instructor's chapter. Proof left that what the boy says is true. I mean, the child in front of us is the instructor we're going to be mentoring.

The two young men were surprised from the bottom of their hearts. A hundred percent purity. Unmixed surprise. And soon to come confusion and confusion.

"Really? Huh? You did? Not..."

"As you call me, instructor Mortairn."

"Yeah, okay"

"The reply is high!!

"Yes, Lord Instructor!!

Though inferior, there is already some education there. To Pace's voice, they both accidentally stretched their backs, aligned their legs and replied loudly. It is the area of earliest reflection.

"I'll tell you what. Greetings should be made tomorrow when all the students are in place. Go straight back to your dorm today. Tomorrow, before the morning bell rings, make sure you align yourself with the training ground."

"Okay."

"The reply is high!!

"Yes, Lord Instructor!!

Pais dropping off two young men leaving the instructor's office.

Again, if you're a child like yourself, you get licked. I felt that way.

Students do not listen, such as the words of a sweetly viewed instructor. I don't know what the quote is, but if you can't listen to me, it doesn't make more sense than back music.

"Well, how shall I cook for you..."

Pais laughed joyfully, thinking about what was to come.