No More Fantasies

[...To be honest, the content in textbooks is like an old granny's sock—long and stinky. If I'd spent all day working the fields, what I'd want to hear would definitely be songs about smashing the landlord, not kissing their filthy boots.]

Ulasang frowned deeply as he read the text, unable to stop himself from commenting:

[Written here, I hope readers will remember our domain name: Taiwan Novel Network, where you can read Taiwanese novels in your spare time. It's incredibly pleasant.]

"How could he use such vulgar language? If this were presented to the noble lords, he'd be sent to the gallows!"

[..."To hell with the landlords, to hell with this life!" If possible, I'd rather they sang a song right in front of those grand lords. And I'd rather none of this be treated as a dream.]

[Because they still yearn for the future, they want to dream.]

[But I want something more urgent.]

[Then it would be best to treat it as a dream. Forget it once dawn comes.]

Having seen the song's contents and the vulgar language scattered throughout it, the bards who took pride in being the noble lords' mouthpieces could not help gaping.

"These lyrics... are they even allowed to be said?"

Ulasang's face alternated between green and purple, burning with humiliation—

Just moments ago, he had still been agonizing over how to heap on more Auspicious Words!

"How could he say such things!? How could he dare sing them!?"

The contents were clearly cursing their benefactors and criticizing the professors' teaching methods. It was a slap in the Poet Academy's face!

Hearing the Dean's furious shout, the students fell silent as if struck by a Silence Spell.

Yet their eyes did not leave the Stone Tablet for even a moment—

[...I don't know what this little girl has gone through. Since I can't truly understand her feelings, I have no right to lecture her.]

[But no matter what, she is my first fan. Since I'll be staying here for a while, I can keep an eye on her if I get the chance.]

[Maybe I can even have her spread my ballads, let more people know me, and prove that I once came to this land.]

[And besides—]

[She said "see you tomorrow," which seemed to mean she was looking forward to tomorrow too.]

[Only as I wrote these words did I suddenly realize...]

[I may have made a new friend.]

After a long silence, a student finally muttered,

"That rotten mouth was smashing landlords a second ago, and the next it can say things like this?"

"There aren't any dramatic twists from beginning to end, and the writing can only be called passable. But somehow, I just kept reading until I finished it..."

"Who exactly wrote this diary? Why could he write on the Stone of Oblivion? Is he a Poet from the academy??"

All sorts of doubts and discussions swirled around the ears of the thousands of Poet Academy students.

There were countless theories about the original author's identity, but everyone believed he had to be connected to the Poet Academy.

Only the Poets themselves knew how shamelessly they flattered the nobles.

Honestly, not everyone was willing to be a court jester, making those in power laugh.

When this diary refuted those stale old subjects in front of the entire academy, it had clearly struck a chord with them—

Many had written unconventional drafts before.

But in the end, every one had been rejected on the grounds that it "did not conform to core values."

They were the nobles' mouthpieces. They could not say anything that would displease the lords.

Some words could only be buried in their hearts.

But what if...

"What if I could speak as freely as he did and curse that boring Auspicious Words textbook?

What if I could make the Dean who rejected my draft fly into a rage... How wonderful would that be?"

That quiet complaint drifted into Geya's ear.

She suddenly remembered the manuscript her mentor had rejected not long ago—

"Return every coin of the nobles' money; split the common people's money thirty-seventy."

At that moment, the words on the Stone Tablet were like an invisible blade, trying to sever the shackles around her heart.

Drawing out that urge to express herself from the depths of her soul...

But ridiculously, her mouth was clearly her own, and the words had already reached the tip of her tongue.

Yet it was as if someone had tightly locked her throat, leaving her unable to speak them.

"Stop fantasizing!"

A warning suppressed everyone's wandering thoughts.

"This diary has been displayed openly on the Stone Tablet. If the Tyron Royal Family sees it, they may even hold our academy accountable...

We're all about to graduate. If we lose our reputations, will we still have any prospects?"

Without independence, they could not slap the nobles in the face.

Having grasped the crucial point, Ulasang immediately gave his orders:

"Not a word about what happened today is to get out!

No one is allowed to mention what is written on the Stone Tablet either—

It is slander, it is defamation! It is disrespect toward the entire academy and toward those who feed and clothe us!

If I hear anyone approving of or spreading these nonsense words, no matter who you are or how capable you may be, you will be expelled from the academy and never hired again!

Every job within the Empire will be closed to you as well!"

The dignified Dean was so angry that he stamped his feet, even shaking his wig crooked by accident.

Fortunately, Geya hurriedly helped straighten it before asking thoughtfully,

"Mentor, he mentioned at the beginning that it had been a year since his travels. Could he be a senior who left the academy a year ago?"

"Very possible! Investigate it. Investigate every Poet who left the academy within the past year.

Before the next sponsorship payment is collected, we must drag out this black sheep!"

The Poet Academy's course length was not fixed, though it generally lasted seven years—enough time for a beginner to grow into someone who had mastered a basic instrument.

Of course, there were always exceptions.

For instance, at the mention of the crucial time frame of "one year," Geya suddenly thought of a name. Leaning close to Ulasang's ear, she hesitated before saying,

"Mentor, Tang Qi also seemed to have left a year ago..."

"Tang Qi Weinberg?"

Ulasang had taught many students, but he only remembered two kinds of people.

One was exceptionally talented, model students like Geya, whom it was hard to find fault with.

The other was the kind who made him blow his top, like Tang Qi—

"Tang Qi, go sing an inspiring poem at Lord Larsen's residence.

Remember, avoid anything related to knights. His wife eloped with a knight not long ago!"

"Mentor, I understand."

"What do you understand?"

"Inspiring, knight, elopement."

Before his eyes, a blank and wooden face seemed to appear again.

As if he had heard a joke, Ulasang repeatedly waved his hand.

"How could it be? If he truly had that ability, would I have needed to send him away?"

Even though he was furious enough to stomp his feet, putting aside the content, Ulasang could not find many faults in the diary.

The writing was crude, yet it carried a strange touch of humor.

He could not hear the melody, but the lyrics were simple and fairly catchy.

It was not a masterpiece, but it was certainly not something Tang Qi, who only knew how to follow the textbook word for word, could have created.

"That child may have already gone home. After all, he is a noble lord's illegitimate son. With a trade in hand, he shouldn't starve."

At that thought, Ulasang let out another sigh.

He hoped that blockhead could understand the meaning behind his words, spoken to preserve both their dignity—

Driving him away had been meant to make him retreat in the face of difficulty.

He should go home, ask that lord for living expenses, and drift through life eating and waiting for death.

Not really strap a lute to his back and travel the continent, only to die in some remote corner...

"I watched him grow up, after all. Geya, when you have time, go help me ask around about how that child is doing."

Geya acknowledged him. Her azure eyes looked toward the speck of starlight on the Stone Tablet as she asked curiously,

"And the Stone Tablet's contents..."

Ulasang pondered for a moment, then sighed.

"After all, this is the first time in hundreds and thousands of years that words have been inscribed on the Stone Tablet again—though I do not know what method was used.

But perhaps it holds some significance for the academy...

I will summon a Spellcaster to conceal the Stone Tablet."

The academy's rise and fall were closely tied to the Stone Tablet.

The words inscribed today might also signify something in the unseen order of fate.

Ulasang inadvertently raised his eyes toward the horizon, where the faint light of dawn had appeared.

The sky spread out like a deep sea, covered in dim blue, but now the orange-red sunrise was beginning to spill across it.

He suddenly realized that the night was gradually withdrawing from all its clamor.

"Tomorrow is coming."

Was it the academy's tomorrow?

He stretched out his hand, trying to welcome the first light of dawn.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the window, falling across Tang Qi's fingertips.

"So none of this was a dream."