I Swear I'm Not a Demon Masquerading as a Human

In the back rows of the spacious tiered lecture hall for freshmen at the Sages’ College, the sudden, sharp confrontation following Lance’s retort froze every sound in the air, leaving behind only a heavy, pervasive, and unbreakable silence. Even the sunlight streaming through the windows had lost a bit of its liveliness.

The other students sat like statues, wearing a variety of expressions. Some stared out the window while listening intently. Others kept their heads down, pretending to be engrossed in their books. There were even a few who blatantly turned around in their seats to watch, and all they were missing were bags of popcorn. Regardless of how they chose to act, they were all silently soaking up the juicy drama playing out in the back row.

These onlookers finally realized just what a devious fellow Lance was! It turned out his very first comment had been a trap. Only after successfully baiting Mordan into making his habitual, mocking remarks did Lance deliver that warning about the law.

Mordan’s face was as dark as a soot-stained pot. He remained silent, feeling as though the young first year had played him for a fool. After a few seconds that felt interminably long, Lance finally spoke up again, breaking the silence, "How old are you this year?"

Mordan didn't understand why the boy was asking about his age, so he didn't respond. Or perhaps, at this point, he simply wasn't willing to answer Lance's questions casually anymore.

Hyperion answered for him, "He's nineteen."

She had begun to grasp Lance's intentions. After spending some time with him, she realized that his train of thought wasn't entirely incomprehensible. Most people just struggled to keep up with it.

Lance did a quick mental calculation and looked at Mordan. "Then you'll be able to get out when you're twenty-seven."

Mordan was stunned for a moment before he finally understood what Lance meant. The first year wasn't using underworld slang to threaten him. Instead, he was earnestly calculating the minimum eight-year prison sentence he could secure for the defendant in his capacity as the plaintiff's lawyer.

Lance yawned, lazily slumped back onto the desk, and then smiled at Mordan while giving him a playful wink with his left eye. It was as if he had merely played a harmless little prank on Mordan.

However, to the person in question, that display of friendliness and lack of aggression only made his blood pressure skyrocket. The older youth’s eyes flickered slightly, and the look in them resembled a powder keg ready to explode. Though his facial muscles remained motionless, his jaw was clenched tight, as if holding back a surge of impulsive rage that threatened to spill out as an undignified outburst.

Mordan finally managed to suppress the fury and impulse that felt as though a devil had ignited them. He fixed a cold, icy stare on the nonchalant Lance and issued a threat in a low, stern voice. "You’d best see if Hyperion can actually inherit the dukedom first. Otherwise, it’s all just empty talk. Lance Wilford, if you don't want your family's Wilford Trading Company to get dragged into this, you had better stop meddling in her affairs."

Lance frowned slightly. "So, what you’re saying is, if I keep helping Hyperion, you’ll find a way to bring down the Wilford Trading Company?"

Mordan was being extremely cautious now. "Precisely. The Gasigus Marquessate has plenty of ways to use legitimate business tactics to swallow up your entire enterprise at minimal cost."

He knew Lance’s question was another attempt to bait him into revealing "evidence of a crime." However, resorting to the same old trick was simply pathetic.

Mordan sneered inwardly. He was certain that, given his family’s power, he had countless ways to crush this "clever" youth from the border frontier. Surely the boy couldn't possibly be indifferent to the fate of his own family's company!

The very next second, however, he was utterly blindsided... Lance was staring straight at him, looking as if he had just laid eyes on a savior. That look of genuine, expectant delight sent a shiver of revulsion down Mordan's spine.

What kind of normal person would react with such indescribable joy upon hearing their family business was under threat? Just how did your father abuse you growing up to make you hate your own family this much?!

Lance shrugged and closed his eyes while wearing an air of carefree indifference. "In the business world, the winner takes all and the loser is branded a failure. If you can swallow up the competition, just go ahead, there’s no need to give me a heads-up."

Mordan took a deep breath. He felt a surge of genuine, exasperated fury. "Lance Wilford, empty talk is meaningless. Your true capabilities, or lack thereof, will soon be laid bare in the Shadow Realm. I hope you don't end up humiliating yourself before the entire capital. A lot of eyes are on you."

He had come to a realization: Lance’s callous, unfeeling attitude was exactly like that of a demon. No wonder he got along so well with Hyperion.

"Hyperion, let that rickety boat of yours, and your grand, delusional dreams, sink to the bottom of the sea." With that parting shot, Mordan turned and stalked away, his expression dark and brooding.

His vitriol was filled with absolute certainty. He knew that if Hyperion wanted to grow stronger and secure more opportunities to find her father, she would have no choice but to beg him and submit to him. Sooner or later, she would see reason and come crawling back to him.

***

After Mordan left, a low, persistent murmur rippled through the classroom. Sharp-witted students realized that the accusation Lance had just leveled against Mordan could well be a watershed moment. After all, in the history of the Southern Continent’s prestigious academies, there had never been a precedent for a student successfully having a fellow student sent to prison.

If Lance set this dangerous precedent, encouraging Hyperion to hire him as her legal counsel to threaten Mordan, then the atmosphere at Ikerite University could be steered in a completely new, perhaps twisted direction.

In the past, if students had irreconcilable differences, they would usually settle things with a fight in the arena or within an artificial Shadow Realm equipped with life-protection safeguards. At most, things would get a bit ruthless with a high-stakes duel where honor was on the line.

However, with Lance’s example before them, students would soon realize that for any campus dispute, finding a way to send one's opponent straight to prison was the single most effective and efficient solution.

In the back row of the classroom, Hyperion finally smiled, a look of wry resignation on her face. From the moment she met Lance, she had found him to be a youth who was simultaneously earnestly serious and utterly absurd.

As an opponent, he would undoubtedly be a total nightmare, a complete menace. As an ally? He was the most reassuring, wonderful one could ask for.

"Lance, thank you."

After watching Mordan leave, Lance slumped onto his desk and muttered, "It’s nothing. I’ve always detested conflict and prefer to resolve things through mediation. There’s no need for pointless quarrels to come to blows between classmates."

He felt the urge to slip back into his King of Slumber persona. His sleepy eyes drifted toward the clock. Every passing second felt like torture. He didn't want to be in class. He didn't even have the energy to look at the legal exam study guide he had been so eager to read earlier.

It felt like his high school days. Whenever a subject he disliked came up, the moment the teacher started speaking, he would slump right onto his desk.

Maybe I should just go tackle the Shadow Realm today?

According to the university’s regulations, missing class to challenge a Shadow Realm dungeon didn't count as truancy. Furthermore, successfully clearing it earned the student a period of leave to rest and recuperate.

The school even awarded a small amount of genuine academic credit to students who took on Shadow Realm challenges, based on the difficulty and their performance. These credits could count toward electives for any semester, or, if a student accumulated enough, even substitute for mandatory course credits.

Consequently, plenty of "meathead" warriors from the Knights’ College threw themselves wholeheartedly into tackling Shadow Realm dungeons, striving to bypass their mandatory courses through this alternative route.

Lance now thought that embarking on that same path wasn’t a bad idea. He couldn't help but glance at Hyperion. She seemed to be breezing through her studies today, looking nothing like the miserable wreck he was.

Besides, she struck him as a cautious and level-headed person. He wondered if she would agree to join him on an adventure into the Shadow Realm.

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