From a young age, Cedric Ebern had been hailed as a magical prodigy.
With a mana pool far exceeding his peers and an innate knack for spells, his parents doted on him, certain that he would one day secure a prestigious position as a Court Mage.
Years of such pampering had molded him into a selfish boy devoid of compassion. However, his talent for magic was, at the very least, undeniable.
His ego was further bolstered by the existence of his magicless half-brother of the same age. Following the example of his father, who loathed his incompetent son, and his mother, who despised the child of a mistress, Cedric's hesitation to hurt others vanished as he tormented his sibling.
Had Cedric successfully become a Court Mage and inherited the title of Viscount, he would have undoubtedly become a cruel and arrogant aristocrat, leaving a trail of suffering in his wake. Fortunately, it seemed that some form of divine retribution existed in this world.
A single verdict was about to be handed down to Cedric, who had always acted exactly as he pleased.
〇 〇 〇
(Shit! Dammit, dammit, dammit! Why is this so hard?!)
It was the day of the Royal Academy entrance exam. Seated in the auditorium, Cedric Ebern screamed silent curses as he stared at the test paper.
The spacious hall was filled with the children of the nobility, all concentrated on their work. Today was the Noble Category entrance exam. The students surrounding him were impeccably dressed, exuding the refined air of high society. Some were from newly established families like Cedric's, while others were high-ranking nobles who radiated an unmistakable aura of authority.
(Damn it... I know I saw this in the reference book... Argh, shit! I can't remember!)
The constant scratching of pens around him only fueled his mounting panic. However, no matter how much he spiraled, it didn't help him solve the problems. Nearly half of the answer sheet on his desk remained a stark, mocking white, and the clock was ticking toward the end of the session.
(For a magical genius like me to be struggling this much... it’s all that incompetent failure’s fault! If he hadn't been taken in by the Marquis House, I would’ve been able to focus on my studies...!)
The face that surfaced in Cedric's mind was that of his half-brother—Rest.
Ever since they were children, Cedric had used Rest as a target for his magic at every opportunity. Whenever he learned a new spell, Rest was his first test subject. Even without a new spell to practice, Cedric would abuse him simply to vent his frustrations.
In truth, while Cedric possessed a talent for magic, he had never been particularly good at academic subjects like history or mathematics. Tormenting Rest had been his primary method of stress relief during his study breaks. But when Rest was taken in by the Marquis Rosemary House a year ago, that routine was shattered. Without his outlet, Cedric’s concentration had crumbled, leaving him woefully unprepared for the exam.
(Why was that piece of trash taken in by a Marquis House? He's probably just a servant anyway... but knowing that failure is right beside Viola and Primula makes my blood boil...!)
Cedric had become infatuated with the sisters of the Marquis Rosemary House the moment he met them. He had planned to make one of them—or ideally both—his wife, intending to treat those flower-like beauties however he pleased.
But ever since he had led them into the forest and put them in danger, he hadn't seen them once. Every request he sent to the Marquis House to apologize was flatly rejected without a second thought.
"As long as you enter the Academy, you'll see them again. There's no need to rush," his father had told him.
"That's right," his mother added. "You're a chosen child, unlike that stray dog. Once you show them how talented you are, they'll surely fall for you."
Despite his parents' reassurances, the mere thought of Rest being anywhere near the lovely sisters caused a simmering irritation in Cedric's gut that made focusing on his studies impossible. Even now, in the middle of the exam, his brother's face haunted him, stoking a rage that would not subside.
"Five minutes remaining," the examiner announced.
"Tch...!"
(Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Dammiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!)
Cedric’s face contorted as he scrambled to fill in the remaining blanks. Ultimately, he only managed to complete about seventy percent of the paper. There was no guarantee his answers were even correct.
The minimum passing score for the written portion was sixty percent, meaning he had finished the first half of the exam on dangerously thin ice.