Chapter 34

Lu Mingfei dragged his bandage-wrapped body along like a walking mummy, inching his way back to his dormitory—Room 303 in Building 1, which Fingal called a "doghouse"—under the lazy afternoon sunlight of Cassel College.

The instant he pushed open the door, a "Fingal scent" mixed with leftover pizza, instant coffee powder, and some suspiciously fermented odor assaulted him head-on.

Lu Mingfei instinctively held his breath. This stench was even worse than the Demi-Human Cave, for crying out loud!

Out of habit, he tensed his muscles and loosely clenched his right hand.

Then he realized there were no Godrick Soldiers here, nor any Beastmen of Farum Azula—only a useless senior brother who was probably still immersed in a sweet dream.

"Damn it..."

he muttered under his breath.

He had stayed in the Lands Between for far too long. He still needed some time to readjust to this peaceful, harmonious life.

Yet the expected sight of Fingal lying sprawled on his bed, snoring like thunder, did not appear.

The dormitory was unusually... tidy?

Of course, that was by Fingal's standards. At the very least, there were no scattered chip bags or empty beer cans on the floor, and the mountain of takeout containers on the table had vanished, revealing the long-unseen natural wood surface beneath. What made Lu Mingfei's pupils quake most was that someone who actually looked presentable was sitting upright on his tiny dormitory bed.

Mr. Fingal von Frings had shed his usual homeless-looking air of decay. His greasy blond hair had clearly been violently washed and combed, with even some hair wax applied, barely maintaining the slicked-back hairstyle of a "successful man."

He wore a brand-new shirt beneath a crisp suit vest, along with dress pants whose creases had been ironed as sharp as blades.

He had even shaved for once, revealing a face whose once-handsome contours could faintly be seen beneath all that slovenliness.

This newly refreshed Senior Brother Fingal sat elegantly on the edge of Lu Mingfei's bed in a pose that said he had "been waiting for some time," holding a steaming cup of... instant coffee?

A thick hardcover copy of Introduction to Dragon Genealogy lay open across his knees. He gazed "profoundly" out the window, like a philosopher contemplating humanity's future.

Lu Mingfei froze in the doorway, his two exposed eyes widening beneath the bandages. He nearly thought he had opened the door wrong, or simply entered the wrong dormitory and barged into some aristocratic elite's private study.

He subconsciously rubbed his eyes, confirming that the creature before him really was Fingal.

"Uh..."

An indecipherable sound came from Lu Mingfei's throat.

As if only just awakened by the sound of the door, Fingal slowly turned his head. An elaborately rehearsed "surprised" smile appeared on his face, blending astonishment, concern, and just the right amount of restraint.

"Ah! My dear Junior Brother Lu! You've finally returned in triumph!"

Fingal set down his coffee cup, rose with exaggerated movements, and opened his arms for a hug.

"The college's rising star! The Secret Party's dragon-slaying hero! The most dazzling S-rank in Cassel's history! Let me see, are you badly hurt? I heard you were incomparably brave, charging alone into the dragon's lair and fighting the Dragon King Norton for three hundred rounds before finally cutting him down... oh, no, cutting him down beneath the river!

"You're a modern-day Beowulf, a Siegfried!"

Lu Mingfei's mouth twitched, and even his bandages trembled along with it.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Tsk! Junior Brother, what kind of thing is that to say?"

Fingal pursed his lips in dissatisfaction, trying hard to maintain his elegant posture as he reached up to adjust the collar button that was squeezing the breath out of him.

"As your senior brother, roommate, fellow student under the same advisor, and brother-in-arms, shouldn't I welcome you back from serious injury with the fullest enthusiasm, the neatest appearance, and the most... uh, academic attitude?"

Lu Mingfei rolled his eyes.

"So that's why you unwrapped your third edition of Introduction to Dragon Genealogy, the one whose plastic seal you never even opened? Senior Brother, do you think I don't know you?

"Spit it out already!"

The "elegant" mask on Fingal's face instantly collapsed halfway. He flopped back down on the edge of the bed in defeat, the movement so forceful that his crisp dress pants groaned under the strain.

He irritably tugged at his collar.

"Damn! This is suffocating me! Junior Brother, you have no idea! You really blew the roof off this time!"

Fingal leaned closer to Lu Mingfei and lowered his voice, speaking mysteriously.

"While you were hospitalized these past few days, the whole college went insane! The post titled 'S-rank freshman Lu Mingfei solo-kills the first-generation Dragon King Norton!' has been pinned on the forum for seven days and seven nights!"

Lu Mingfei looked up at the sky.

He could have guessed the poster's identity with his ass.

As the head of the News Department, Fingal had informants all over the college.

Rather, with so many Student Union members aboard the Moniach, it would have been stranger if none of them were his informants.

So this was what they called locking down the news? This was what they called protecting him?

The Board of Trustees and the Secret Party couldn't even stop one Fingal! This news had probably already spread all over the world and been printed in every Mixed-Blood gossip rag out there!

But what did this have to do with Fingal...

Then Lu Mingfei suddenly came to a realization.

"What are you selling this time? Photos? Autographs? Or something even more outrageous?"

Fingal awkwardly turned his head away, his eyes wandering back and forth between the dormitory ceiling and floor.

"You haven't already..."

Lu Mingfei narrowed his eyes, danger creeping into his voice.

"Sold them, have you?"

"A hundred photo collections, five hundred signed photos..."

Fingal paused, then lowered his head somewhat sheepishly.

"And twenty pieces of intimate clothing worn by an S-rank."

The air in the dormitory instantly froze.

Lu Mingfei's expression was like someone who had opened a Mimic chest. The shift from shock to fury took only 0.1 seconds.

"I. Will. Kill. You!"

Lu Mingfei pounced like an enraged lion, clamping both hands tightly around Fingal's neck with every intention of getting rid of him once and for all.

"No! No!"

Fingal's face turned red, like a steamed crab.

"Preorders! They're preorders, Junior Brother!"

Lu Mingfei loosened his grip slightly, but his hands remained around Fingal's neck like iron pincers.

"How much did you take in?"

Fingal answered,

"Five hundred dollars per photo collection, seventy dollars per signed photo, and the clothing... two thousand dollars each. So far, I've collected twenty percent deposits."

"What?!"

Lu Mingfei's voice abruptly rose, making even the windowpanes tremble.

"You profiteering bastard! No..."

He suddenly realized the more terrifying problem.

"People bought them at those absurd prices?!"

Fingal shook his head, a heartbroken expression appearing on his face.

"Junior Brother, you still underestimate your own market value."

He counted on his fingers.

"I was worried the prices were too high, so I deliberately made them limited edition. They sold out in less than ten seconds after going up, and now your signed photos are being scalped for three thousand dollars on the forum."

A bizarre atmosphere filled the dormitory.