The Clock Tower's Inferior Student

In Britain, at the Clock Tower.

"Hey... I think... you guys are going a little too far, aren't you?"

It was noon, and Britain, rarely, showed a clear sky. The azure expanse was refreshingly vast, carrying a faint, special, and fresh scent of vegetation. This freshness was quite rare. In London, with its ever-advancing technology, the air always carried a strong smell of gasoline. It would be a waste not to enjoy such a comforting freshness.

Yet, in the midst of this refreshing noon, a few clumsy English phrases suddenly broke the peace. The awkward grammar and the slightly troubled undertones made the already difficult-to-understand words even more obscure.

The two blonde students who were addressed—they had blonde hair, meticulously styled, almost like crowns. Their demeanor matched their dazzling color, exuding an arrogant disregard for everything around them.

At least, they didn't seem to notice the speaker.

This was the lawn near the Clock Tower's library. It was break time, and students were scattered in small groups, either getting food or continuing their studies, busy yet relaxed.

The speaker was also enjoying a peaceful lunch break. He spread out a blue napkin to claim his space, a fried chicken sandwich in his mouth as he lay down, flipping through a manga in the dappled shade of a tree.

Yes, manga.

In this place steeped in mysticism, practically a stronghold for Magus—the Clock Tower—the man openly reading manga was likely the only one in the entire magical world.

And what had pulled him from his leisure, forcing him to speak broken English... were the actions of these two students.

It was probably intentional.

They had trespassed into the area of the blue napkin, then, with utter disdain, forcefully, and with pinpoint accuracy, stepped on several of the man's uneaten sandwiches, deliberately grinding their heels into them.

The young man, who had initially intended to avoid trouble and endure it, felt a rapid surge of displeasure.

"Oh? Lately, I feel like my ears might be acting up. John, is someone calling me?"

Student A clearly heard the man's complaint, his lips curling upwards so high it was as if he were trying to snort at the sky. Fortunately, it wasn't raining today; otherwise, his respiratory tract would be in danger.

London was known as the City of Fog. Due to increasing industrialization, various industrial exhaust fumes mixed into the atmosphere. If they were to fall into his nostrils with raindrops...

Tsk, tsk, tsk!

Thinking of this, the black-haired man, clearly having been wronged, couldn't help but let out a laugh. He propped himself up with his right hand on the napkin, and his lean, sturdy body sprang up like a leopard.

He was Tsukahara Meiji.

As his name suggested, his nationality was Japanese.

His broken English carried a strong Tokyo accent, with peculiar pronunciations and stiff delivery, clearly the effort of someone not proficient in English forcing themselves to speak it.

Just as the common impression of Japanese people abroad, Tsukahara Meiji had tanned skin and jet-black hair, with sharp, expressive black eyes.

However, contrary to the traditional image of Japanese people, Tsukahara Meiji was tall. His shoulders were broad, and though he didn't possess particularly bulky muscles, he exuded an aura of strength.

He was currently rubbing his hair with his left hand, the one holding the manga. The paper and hair created a grating, rustling sound.

"Oh? Isn't that Tsukahara? My, my, so you're here. So sorry, so sorry, you were just too inconspicuous, I didn't even notice you."

Arrogant mockery.

Tsukahara Meiji hailed from Japan and had only recently become a Magus. In terms of bloodline, he was merely a third-generation Magus.

In this world that valued lineage and background, the only ones who would accept Tsukahara Meiji as a student so exceptionally were likely Abner and Lord El-Melloi II. However, the latter was already semi-retired, making Abner his teacher.

But precisely because of this, by associating with Abner, who was caught in the factional cold war, Tsukahara Meiji naturally became the target of ridicule from a host of illustrious Magus. With his magical attainments already limited, and his teacher's reputation not being the best, everyone naturally treated him as a punching bag. They couldn't attack the head of the Winifred Family, could they? So, they could only bully him.

Normally, Tsukahara Meiji would probably have scoffed and let it go... but today, he had a reason he couldn't back down.

His black eyes flickered towards the sandwiches, now crushed beneath the feet of the prestigious students. His anger intensified. He forced himself to suppress the throbbing veins on his forehead, masking his rage with a veneer of respect. If it were just his own lunch, he might have let it slide. Being bullied was also part of being a novice Magus; if you didn't like it, don't be a Magus.

But... thinking about how he would face his friend's hunger when he returned...

"Hey, senpai, it's not a good habit to simply ignore those who are stronger than you."

Although his tone still carried a hint of politeness, beneath the respectful address lay cold, surging anger, and a direct provocation against the arrogant elites.

But why would the "elites" of the Clock Tower care about such things?

"Hey, you from the Far East, you really have the nerve to speak up. Tsk."

Student A was about to say more when Student B quickly tugged his arm.

Of course, this gesture wasn't meant to stop him from speaking carelessly.

"Hey, I say, stop talking to him. I heard people from the Far East are... really small! Be careful, it might be contagious! If Emma starts ignoring you, don't say I didn't warn you!"

Although the most crucial word was blurred, Tsukahara Meiji understood their meaning clearly from the context.

"I think one of us needs to apologize."

Tsukahara Meiji pointed at the thoroughly mangled sandwiches under their feet, suppressing his anger, his brow furrowed into a clear knot.

"Oh? Since you're so self-aware, we'll be magnanimous and let you off. All you have to do is strip naked, run around the tree three times, and bark like a dog, and we'll let you go—wasn't that gay guy who's always buzzing around you with you today? What, looking for someone else?"

The last sentence directly ignited Tsukahara Meiji's last shred of reason.

He laughed.

Tsukahara Meiji was a peculiar person.

His most striking characteristic was that when he was angry, furious, or extremely resentful, he would laugh. For him, a smile suddenly appearing after a furrowed brow was the prelude to an impending storm of attacks.

"You guys can bully me however you want on a daily basis. But... if you badmouth Karl in front of me..."

"What is it?"

Student B's eyebrows furrowed, his magnificent golden hair filled with dirty reflections.

"Nothing much. I just wanted to remind you, senpai—you'd best change your clothes."

Tsukahara Meiji somehow had a playing card in his hand. It depicted a King, and next to the hand holding a sword, a standard poker face was visible.

"Huh?"

Student A chuckled, not quite understanding Tsukahara Meiji's meaning.

"I just gave you a free fortune-telling, senpai..."

As he spoke, he casually bent the card and flicked it away. The card spun through the air, tracing a beautiful trajectory before vanishing from their sight.

"The result of my fortune-telling... You know, senpai, that sweater you're wearing is this year's new design. It's very avant-garde, especially around the collar, which has been widened to make you appear more upright. If it's making you this concerned, you must have a date, right?"

Tsukahara Meiji analyzed, his strange composure evident as he spoke each word.

"Huh? So what?"

"Therefore, I suggest you change your clothes. Wearing burnt clothes isn't the behavior of a gentleman, is it? By the way, senpai, you got your money's worth. Wool is protein, so after burning, it gives off a pungent smell... Can't you smell it yet?"

Upon hearing Tsukahara Meiji's words, the two students sniffed the air. They seemed to catch a strange, pungent odor wafting around them... They also felt a warmth on the back of their necks. Could it be the heat generated by the burning?

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! My, my clothes!!"

Suddenly, Student A cried out dramatically. At some point, his back had caught fire. Crimson flames engulfed his wool sweater, and the blaze grew more intense, even licking at his pride and joy, his golden hair!

"Oh, are you trying to put out the fire, senpai? Then let me help."

Tsukahara Meiji chuckled softly, spreading his hands at shoulder height. He raised his index finger, and with a swish, two more playing cards appeared. He pressed them firmly between his thumb and index finger, and the cards instantly bent. In a flash, two faint cyan patterns lit up on the back of his hand. With a poof, the cyan light seeped into the cards, and the paper instantly mutated, becoming soft and liquid. Tsukahara Meiji felt the cool sensation in his hands, his angry eyes locking onto the flustered student as a large stream of water shot out from between his hands!

The stream of water, lacking any real offensive power, immediately extinguished the flames!

Of course, it also left Student A's sweater a soggy mess. Not only was it soaked, but the charred color and the spreading stench that followed the water made him feel absolutely terrible.

"You! Tsukahara Meiji! Are you behind this!!"

Student A roared in frustration. Although he had no idea how he'd done it, there were no traces of fire magic, nor could he comprehend what he had done to set his own sweater ablaze, but judging by his attitude, it had to be him!

"Heh, senpai, you're an elite from the Clock Tower, aren't you? Could a mere third-generation Magus like myself pull a trick under the noses of the 'elites'? Oh, I'm so sorry, so sorry. Let's just say it was me—how about this, we'll call it even regarding the incident with Karl's lunch."

Tsukahara Meiji appeared polite, bowing respectfully. However, in this situation, his politeness only served to incite the other's fury, making him feel like a complete fool.

This was Tsukahara Meiji's objective.

Having suffered such a significant loss for no reason, the two students were naturally angered. One drew his staff, while the other pulled a dagger from his waist.

Needless to say, these were their respective Mystic Codes. To put it in RPG terms, they were "weapons" that increased stats upon equipping.

Tsukahara Meiji showed no fear, his hands moving rapidly as he produced seven or eight playing cards from between his fingers. In terms of magical prowess, Tsukahara Meiji was no match for the two of them. However, his human pride, his arrogance, flowed through his spine, forcing him to straighten his back and face these two.

The scent of impending battle was so thick it overpowered the smell of burnt wool.

"Excuse me, are you guys very idle? If you intend to engage in a private duel, remember to get permission from the Clock Tower."

Just then, a voice with a presence more potent than the scent of battle rang out.

It was a young man. He was walking over, frowning, with a box tucked under his arm.

Karl Winsted.

The same "Karl" mentioned in their earlier conversation.

The two students who were looking for trouble exchanged a glance, knowing the newcomer was not to be trifled with. Unlike Tsukahara Meiji, Karl was a true Magus, both in background and academics. Apart from often associating with Tsukahara Meiji, there was nothing to mock about him.

If they truly escalated things with him, the Clock Tower would surely hold them accountable. Bullying Tsukahara Meiji was one thing, but provoking Karl would not be ignored by the higher-ups.

Since it wasn't worth facing the Clock Tower's high command's reprimand, the two quickly spat out a threat and slunk away.