After a bout of retching, the room erupted in laughter.
Her friends' complaints inevitably reminded Geya of the article that had been harshly criticized the night before—
"Return all the nobles' money, and split the commoners' money thirty-seventy."
She had spent ages working on the wording before finally putting Lord Versace's actions that day into words.
But her mentor's furious rebuke meant the academy no longer had room for any honest voices.
And she still wanted to work at the academy—
Her beauty was her greatest advantage, but it had also brought her a curse.
It let her navigate social circles with ease, while reducing her to a commodity whose looks and body far too many people coveted.
She longed to remain independent. That was why she hoped to stay at the academy and support herself by teaching, rather than having to please some noble at court.
So she was willing to set aside her insignificant desire to express herself, heed her mentor's teachings, and uphold the academy's standing.
Even if she could not help thinking—
How wonderful would it be if I could be like the Poet on that Stone Tablet, saying what I wanted to say and doing what I wanted to do?
Geya, along with the other gloomy poets present, could not help dreaming again.
At the mention of that Poet, her junior, Su Wen, suddenly slapped his forehead.
"Right! Do you think anything new will have been engraved on the Stone Tablet today?"
"Since it's in the form of a journal, maybe there'll be something new every day?"
"I'm getting curious about what he'll write today. Just between us, I've been trying to compose music for that song of his since last night, but I can never quite capture the feeling of 'the fucking landlord, fuck this life.'"
The brown-haired poet who had thrown up looked a little excited.
"Bruto, are you mad? If the dean finds out, you'll be expelled!"
"Hey, relax. It's just us here, isn't it? If nobody tells anyone, how will the dean ever hear about it? Or do you think Geya is some loose-tongued gossip?"
Bruto gave Geya a teasing look.
As a temporary Assistant Instructor and Ulasang's most prized pupil, her stance was crucial.
"Actually, I also think poets should have more freedom in their creative work."
In truth, Geya herself had no firm stance on the matter.
She simply knew this was what these people liked to hear.
With a more conservative group of poets, she would have said something different.
Still, her words put the poets present at ease.
"Geya, I'm sure you'll become a full professor and lead a complete reform of the academy."
"Let that day come soon. I'm honestly sick of writing all that flattery. Every day at the academy just leaves me bored... look, even drinking feels dull now."
"Our lives are utterly joyless..."
"I have an idea!"
Su Wen slapped his head.
"Why don't we go take another look at the Stone Tablet?"
"..."
The dormitory fell so quiet that the cawing of crows outside the window became clearly audible.
Bruto gave a bitter laugh.
"What are you thinking? The dean has sealed off the central garden. Nobody can get near the Stone Tablet without his permission...
"Wait, don't we still have Ge—"
"Sorry, I think I've had a little too much to drink. Perhaps I should go back and rest."
Seeing the conversation about to turn toward her again, Geya hastily feigned drunkenness and shook her head.
Oh, please!
As the dean's pupil, she could use that status to pass through the sealed-off garden.
But that did not mean she was willing to be used!
Bruto was clearly targeting her. If she stayed much longer, they would probably pressure her into doing something she did not want to do.
Once she realized this, Geya immediately bowed to her friends.
"I hope you all have a lovely evening."
"Geya—" Su Wen wanted to ask her to stay, only to discover that he could not even stand steadily.
By the time he fell to the floor and looked up again, Geya's lovely figure was already nowhere to be seen.
"Bitch."
Bruto grunted and let out a drunken belch.
"She only got that temporary Assistant Instructor position because she has a pretty face, didn't she? And she won't even do us this little favor..."
"Bruto, that's going too far," Su Wen could not help protesting.
"Hey, Su Wen. Why don't you think about it? She's so young, and she hasn't even graduated. How did she become a temporary Assistant Instructor ahead of everyone else? Don't you understand what sort of relationship she has with our bald dean?"
"Bruto!"
As his words grew increasingly outrageous, the other poets could not help rebuking him too.
"You're drunk."
"No, I'm more clearheaded than any of you! 'Temporary Assistant Instructor'—sounds nice, doesn't it? I bet that position was already reserved for her, just because she—urgh!"
Unable to hold back the churning in his stomach, Bruto vomited onto the bed again.
The others wanted to say more, but his eyes closed, and he promptly passed out in that puddle of sludge.
They exchanged glances and shook their heads.
"Su Wen, Bruto is actually a decent person.
"It's just unfortunate that he and Geya are rivals.
"And jealousy has blinded him."
Su Wen did not care about Bruto. He only felt relieved that Geya had left early and had not heard that jealous man's abuse.
What he did not know was that Geya, who had long since left, had actually anticipated people speaking ill of her behind her back.
But she understood that this was what she had coming.
People are accustomed to giving ugliness meaning and dragging beauty into the mud. As though doing so could demonstrate their compassion and conceal their envy.
She saw it all clearly, so she would not let it bother her too much.
Yet as she walked through the academy's covered corridor, she looked toward the distant garden and saw the two Construct Guards the dean had hired to watch over the Stone Tablet standing motionless.
The warm summer evening breeze brushed her cheeks, stirring that rebellious thought.
My mentor ordered me to find this Poet, so he gave me special permission to approach the Stone Tablet.
So if I only look at it myself and don't spread anything around, there shouldn't be any trouble...
She was not someone who obediently followed every rule.
The instant that defiant thought took root and sprouted in her heart, Geya had already taken her first step toward the garden—
I just want a quiet look to see whether that Poet was a one-hit wonder.
Exactly. Maybe the new story he's written won't live up to my expectations?
Then I won't keep thinking about him and dreaming of being him...
She kept persuading herself until she arrived before the two Construct Guards.
As magical creations, they had nothing but air inside their ornate armor, yet they possessed a rudimentary consciousness.
The moment they sensed Geya approaching, they raised their greatswords to bar her way.
Geya took from her pocket a medal Ulasang had given her, bearing the academy crest of [Bard's Song].
"My mentor, Ulasang, has permitted me to pass."
The greatswords crossed before her moved aside. The Construct Guards even turned their bodies, allowing Geya to walk through with ease.
When she came to a stop at the foot of the Stone Tablet and looked up at the starlight at its summit, sure enough, she discovered a second "star."
[June 8, Lost Era 1000. Star Plum Town. Clear skies. On the second day after being kicked out of the tavern, I met a Kobold...]
At first, when she realized that the author of this Journal seemed about to write about the weakest subterranean creature on the continent, Geya inevitably felt disappointed.
As I thought, a person's creative inspiration is limited. Even this Poet inevitably resorts to keeping a dull, mundane record?
[Honestly, if I'd only met a Kobold, there would be nothing worth recording. Even writing it in the Journal would feel like a waste of ink and paper. I'd wager that if a creature as utterly unremarkable as a Goblin appeared in any piece of writing, readers would call it filler, scraping the barrel for something to write. Then again, this was an intelligent Kobold that had independently learned the Common Tongue and spells in a short time. There might even be a Giant Dragon behind it. Now that was worth talking about.]
"A Kobold? A dragon?"
Geya's gaze was drawn inexorably onward by the text—