Mystical Fantasy : The Lazy Real Young Master [EN]

"You don't have to think too deeply about it. Just understand one simple truth—this world isn't yours. The world has never been fair, boy. From the very beginning, your mistake was trying to fit into a place like this," the principal said, extending a sheet of paper toward Al with a calm yet condescending expression.

"And this… at the very least, think of it as a small form of compensation."

Al accepted the paper, his brows furrowing the moment his eyes caught the first line. He hadn't even finished reading it, yet something about it already felt absurdly off.

Printed neatly at the top were the words: 'Application for Leave – School Security Guard, Michaelis.'

Huh? Michaelis's leave application? What does that have to do with the non-elite talk? And why is he taking leave? Wait—no, no, no! That doesn't matter. What matters is, why would the principal hand this to me? Al's mind spun, confusion flashing across his face.

He glanced up, eyes darting between the principal and the three men in front of him, his expression shifting to disbelief.

Hold on... don't tell me they found out about my connection with Michaelis! Could they have dug that far?!

The principal and the three men observed Al's changing expression, completely misreading it as fear.

Heh… so that's it. I don't understand why they called him a monster earlier, but look at him now—trembling just because of a single letter. Maybe they were overreacting, the principal mused inwardly, misjudging Al's demeanor completely.

Meanwhile, Al, still bewildered, reread the letter to make sure he hadn't misunderstood. He scanned it line by line, down to the signature at the bottom.

Yeah… this really is Michaelis' leave application.

He exhaled sharply, torn between laughter and exasperation.

This is ridiculous. I want to laugh so badly at what Michaelis actually wrote in this paper, but this whole situation's already way too tense. I need to confirm this.

Al looked up, holding the paper out politely.

"Um… excuse me, Principal…" he started awkwardly.

"Yes? Have you finally understood?" the principal asked with a hint of superiority.

Al shook his head slowly. "No, sir, I really don't understand. What does this even mean?"

"That's for you. Better than being expelled, don't you think?" the principal replied casually.

"Huh? Expelled? Sir, I'm getting more confused by the second. What does any of this have to do with me leaving school?" Al asked again, completely lost.

The principal only sighed, his patience thinning.

"Hmph… I suppose the decision to remove you from this school really is the best one. With a thought process that simple, you'd only embarrass this institution further."

He leaned back, shaking his head pitifully.

"And I suppose the rumors about you cheating during the try-out exam were true after all. If you can't even grasp something this basic, how could someone like you possibly score at the top?"

Al blinked blankly, utterly unable to process the absurdity he was hearing.

What the....

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, the principal reached out and lightly patted his shoulder.

"There's no need to strain that brain of yours, son. Don't let it explode from overthinking. Take it easy. Just accept this arrangement and be patient—after all, the school I've arranged for your transfer is still considered quite decent… among the mediocre ones."

That last line made Al's eyes twitch.

"Transfer school? Sir, what are you even talking about?" he asked, incredulous. "You've been rambling nonsense since earlier!"

The principal didn't reply, only sighing again, shaking his head as if dealing with a hopeless case.

Meanwhile, Kugo—the father of Jogo—snorted in disdain.

"Look at him. I honestly can't fathom it. With a brain that low, he still has the audacity to act arrogant toward us."

Lefon, Idham's father, nodded coldly beside him.

"When I first heard about him, I actually thought he had some value. Assistant to Aurielle, top scorer who even beat my son at the try-out exam, and he even once saved my son. I expected someone… at least competent. But seeing him in person? I was wrong. Utterly wrong. What a shame."

He exhaled and shook his head slowly.

"In the end, those who aren't elite can only go so far. Reaching that point was already a miracle for someone with such a small mind."

While the two spoke with disdain, Darius remained silent. His anger, which had burned hot when the meeting began, now cooled slightly as he watched Al's seemingly clueless face.

But what unsettled him wasn't Al's supposed stupidity—it was something deeper. Even though he didn't fully trust Daraka's reports, he couldn't ignore the information he'd been given.

I couldn't care less whether he's smart or dumb. That only decides where he ranks among the elites—which, to him, just makes him a non-elite, Darius thought, eyes narrowing.

What I'm truly wary of… is how dangerous this boy actually is. Even with Kugo here, and Daraka on standby ready to teleport in if anything goes wrong… I can't shake off this feeling that we shouldn't push him too far.

His gaze drifted toward the window. Beyond the glass, blurred by sunlight, the ongoing renovation of the school library came into view.

This school is enormous. Even that small explosion incident spread like wildfire online. If a real battle ever broke out here… the fallout would be catastrophic. It could even backfire on all three of our families.

He sighed deeply, deciding it was better to watch how the principal handled the situation.

Back to Al—after listening to all their misplaced comments and nonsensical judgment, he couldn't help but feel more lost than ever.

He glanced down, rechecked the letter again—once, twice—and confirmed it was exactly what he thought: a simple leave request from Michaelis.

Then his eyes drifted toward the principal's desk… and there it was. A pair of reading glasses lying neatly beside a half-empty coffee cup.

Ah… so that's it. I've been overthinking this whole time, worried they might've discovered my link with Michaelis or even my true identity. Turns out… this old man just grabbed the wrong paper.

A chuckle escaped him as he fully realized how absurd the whole scene had been.

"Hehe… hahaha."

It wasn't loud, but enough to make all four men turn their heads toward him, their expressions growing more judgmental by the second.

"What's wrong with you? Don't tell me you've gone insane from despair?" the principal frowned, perplexed.

But Al waved a hand lightly, laughter still slipping out.

"Ahaha… no, no, principal. I'm fine. Sorry. Haha."

Something about that laugh—too relaxed, too genuine—made the principal's irritation flare up instead of fade.

"Al! What on earth is wrong with you?!" he snapped.

Al didn't respond immediately, letting the ticklish feeling subside. A few seconds later… he finally forced himself to stop laughing, though a faint chuckle still lingered.

He exhaled a long, heavy sigh, carrying the last traces of his amusement, before stretching the letter toward the principal, a faint grin still lingering on his lips.

"P-Principal… Look at this. I think you gave me the wrong letter," he said, his tone still trembling slightly with suppressed laughter.

"Huh?" The principal blinked in surprise, his voice low with confusion.

The three men also turned toward Al, their brows furrowing in unison.

"Huh? You gave him the wrong letter?" Lefon asked sharply, disbelief coloring his voice.

The principal immediately snatched the letter from Al's hand and scanned it quickly. His weary, narrow eyes squinted as he brought the paper closer, trying to make sense of the blurred text.

When the words refused to come into focus, he walked back to his desk, picked up his reading glasses, and put them on. And just as Al had said—it was indeed the wrong letter.

"Ah… It seems you're right. I must've handed you the wrong one," he admitted awkwardly, forcing a small laugh as his eyes darted nervously between Al and the three men.

The three men let out long, synchronized sighs, their expressions a perfect mix of disbelief and irritation.

"You really are unbelievable," Kugo groaned, rubbing his temples.

"Wah… I've wasted so much breath ridiculing this kid," Lefon said coldly. "And it turns out you're the one who made a mistake. This is just… humiliating."

Darius, meanwhile, only shook his head slightly.

Good thing I didn't say anything, he thought to himself.

Al, on the other hand, couldn't hold back anymore. His shoulders trembled as another fit of laughter burst out of him.

"Wahahaha! This is seriously hilarious!" he said between his laughs.

"You guys… you even went on and on, acting all philosophical, judging me as some idiot unworthy of the elites—yet you're the ones who ended up looking stupid!"

"One careless person, and three others who believed in that careless person. Hahaha! So that's what you call 'elite'?" he added, still laughing.

That laugh was like a slap to the principal's pride. His irritation boiled, while the three men beside him shot daggers at the principal with their eyes.

The principal could only snap in return,

"Al! You've also learned moral education here, haven't you? You're a student, and they are your elders. Don't be rude!" he barked.

"Rude?" Al repeated, tilting his head slightly.

"Sir, they've been belittling me from the start. Even you, a principal who should protect his student, joined in mocking me—and now you're lecturing me about morals?"

He shook his head slowly, the last of his laughter dying out as his face settled into a faint smirk.

The principal's lips twitched in suppressed anger. "Ugh…" He wanted to snap back at Al, to assert his authority, but when his eyes met the three men, he noticed them giving subtle gestures—warnings—to not escalate things further.

Their silent signals told him to end this as quickly as possible.

Grinding his teeth, the principal turned back toward his desk, muttering darkly under his breath,

Tch… Don't call me a principal if I can't even expel this brat!

On his desk, piles of documents were scattered everywhere, forming an unholy mess of paper and folders. His frustration only deepened as he rummaged through them, tossing papers aside carelessly in search of the right letter.

His movements grew increasingly erratic and aggressive, scattering files across the desk and floor.

Al just stood there, watching the man's little tantrum with a resigned sigh.

"Principal, there's no need to look for it. I already understand," Al said calmly. "You want me to transfer schools, right?"

But his words went completely ignored, for at that very moment, the principal found the letter he was searching for.

"Found it!" he declared triumphantly.

He turned and shoved the letter into Al's hands a bit too roughly.

"Here!"

Al accepted it lazily, raising a brow.

"Oii, oii, calm down, sir," he said with a light chuckle.

"Besides, I already know what this is about. Why bother giving it to me again? What we should be discussing is whether I want to accept it or not, right?"

The principal smirked coldly.

"Save your words. Just read it," he replied flatly.

Though Al already had a rough idea of what the letter contained, a flicker of curiosity urged him to unfold it anyway. He scanned the contents silently—until his eyes widened ever so slightly.

"Oh-ho… so that's how it is," he murmured, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

Whatever was written in that letter… would soon become the seed of the next confrontation.

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