Applying For College

As I stood before the entrance of Elit, a flood of thoughts and memories washed over me. Stepping onto the campus during vacation meant an eerie emptiness hung in the air, but it also provided a unique opportunity for reflection.

I began to walk through the schoolyard, taking in the surroundings. Everywhere I looked, I could see echoes of my past self, a boy who used to walk with his head down, weighed down by his lack of resources and self-esteem.

Back then, I had nothing to my name—no money, no extraordinary magical abilities, no family, and certainly no confidence. I was shackled from head to toe, burdened by a life filled with struggles and setbacks.

"It is the past," I mused quietly, acknowledging how far I had come. Now, as a third-year student, I faced a pivotal moment—whether to graduate from high school or pursue further education in college.

In my previous life, before the regression, I had chosen to graduate high school, partially out of resignation due to my brain tumour and its limitations. However, this time, the path ahead was uncertain, and I had the chance to make a different choice.

Elit's campus sprawled out extensively, with a total of 20 buildings surrounding the central clock tower. These buildings collectively earned the moniker "the dormitory" among students.

I meandered through these structures, my steps aimless. Without realizing it, I found myself in front of a familiar place—the "Old Building."

"Ah, this place..." I murmured, overcome by sentimentality.

The Old Building stood as one of the most dilapidated structures at the edge of the Magic High School campus. It was deserted, void of students' presence.

Deep within this ageing edifice, adjacent to the back mountain, lay a small room known as the "Maintenance Dormitory." And there, within that room, resided someone I trusted more than anyone else at Elit.

An elderly man.

Mr. Belt.

"He should still be here," I thought with anticipation as I descended into the basement. The journey was far from pleasant, marked by leaking water, dirt-stained stone steps, and an eerie silence that filled the air.

At last, I reached the basement—a room of about 33 square meters that felt as if a ghost might appear at any moment.

"What are you doing here?" Mr. Belt questioned, his sharp gaze focused on me.

"Weren't you supposed to graduate?" he continued, his tone nonchalant.

I nearly choked on my words but managed to respond casually, "I'm going to college."

I took a seat on the worn-out sofa, its cushions so saggy that it felt like sinking into a pool.

"What are you doing?" Mr. Belt inquired, his attention now on something on the table.

"A puzzle," I replied.

"A puzzle?" He raised an eyebrow.

I sank deeper into the sofa, watching Mr. Belt closely as he remained focused on the puzzle.

"Can I ask you for some advice?" I finally ventured.

He seemed taken aback by my request, but I was determined to confide in the one person I could trust at this moment.

"What would you do if you had an enemy?" I asked, using the word 'enemy' perhaps a bit childishly but earnestly.

Without hesitation, Mr. Belthos responded, "I'd get along with them."

"But they're an enemy," I pressed, seeking further guidance.

"And? What kind of enemy?" he inquired.

"An enemy I want to destroy, even if I have to stake my life on it. Like an enemy of my family and my life," I explained, my voice filled with determination.

Mr Belt shrugged and offered his perspective, "The more desperately you want to take them down, the less likely you'll be able to do so from the outside."

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and turned his gaze to the puzzle on the table.

"Become the most trustworthy person to your enemy, become the most important person, and then destroy them from their back. This is the best strategy for revenge against an enemy," he concluded.

His words left me silent, contemplating the concept of revenge and the best strategy to achieve it.

As I mulled over his advice, Mr. Belt remarked, "If you can endure, if you can be patient, it's the best way. A gentleman's revenge is never too late, even if it takes thirty years."

I nodded, absorbing his wisdom. The idea that the most effective revenge could be to become indispensable to one's enemy resonated with me.

"Can I stay here for a while? I don't have a home," I asked, seeking solace in this dusty basement.

The old man didn't utter a word, but his silence seemed to convey his consent.

I glanced at the puzzle on the table, and Mr. Belt explained that some students had left it there for him, offering to pay him 700 rens if he completed it. It seemed that many students didn't fully appreciate the value of money.

I chuckled and commented on the lack of respect for their elders, considering Mr. Belt's modest monthly wage of around

I chuckled and commented on the lack of respect for their elders, considering Mr. Belthos' modest monthly wage of around 1,500 $.

"What's the picture supposed to be?" I inquired.

Mr. Belt replied, "See for yourself."

He pointed to a piece of paper at the corner of his desk, revealing an image of the completed puzzle—a famous painting called 'The Lady of Devil.'

"Do you know how to do puzzles? It's 8,000 pieces," he remarked.

"I've never tried, but I might be able to do it," I responded with a hint of confidence.

With that, I took in the image of the completed puzzle, recognizing the purple eyes of the lady staring back at me. As I started putting the puzzle pieces together, there was no need to search for specific corners or edges; my hands seemed to move on their own, effortlessly connecting the pieces.

The old man watched in astonishment as the puzzle began to take shape before his eyes.

"How are you so good at this?" he asked with wide eyes.

With a small smile, I replied, "I'm not sure."

Before I knew it, a significant portion of the picture was complete, and the lady's piercing purple eyes gazed at me. Meeting her gaze, I murmured, "It's like... my body remembers."

***

As soon as I finished the puzzle, I stopped by the main building of Elit.

[Elit Office of Academic]

I knocked on the door of the Office of Academic Affairs and opened it. A few staff members were sitting in front of computers.

I approached one of them.

"I came to apply for the College Board."

The College Board. It's a mandatory process for admission to a Magic College, supervised and conducted by the Continental University Association over a year.

Magic High School students who aspire to attend a Magic College must participate, and through this, the grades and talents of all Magic High School students across the continent are ranked.

The qualification for participation is 'those who have completed more than 3 years of education at a Magic High School'.

Most participants are in their fourth year often referred to as 'seniors' as they conduct the College Board in their senior year.

"...Please show your student ID."

I handed over my student ID.

"Your average grade is D-? huh?"

"Yes."

The quota per grade at Elit is 400~500 students, but among them, only around 100 participate in the College Board.

With just an elite diploma, you can make a decent living, so many don't feel the need to stress about going to college.

The staff member asked with a doubtful tone.

"...Can you handle it? Most of them will have grades over B."

"Of course."

I don't want such a carefree life.

Whether I walk a straight path or not, my lifespan is short. I don't know when my terminal illness will kill me.

So, if I'm on my way to the afterlife anyway, well.

Taking down a big shot with me as a travel companion is my life's primary goal.

"The College Board registration fee is 300$, and the tuition fee is 5,000$"

But the tuition fee is 5,000$.

The cost of living is insane.

I scratched the back of my neck.

"...Can I pay the tuition fee later? I can pay the registration fee now."

"That's possible. However, if you drop out in the middle, there will be no refund."

"Yes."

For now, I took out 300 from my pocket.

The reward for completing the old man's puzzle was 700 $, dividing that fifty-fifty.

"Kevin Voss. Your application has been processed."

Bang—!

The clerk stamped my student ID. The black ink read [Senior].

"Yes."

"But, um."

The clerk spoke to me as I was about to leave.

"How about getting a haircut?"

"…A haircut?"

"Yes. The curriculum of the college board changes every year, so I don't know what will happen, but there are quite a few old-fashioned people among the staff. They don't like long hair."

I twisted my hair with my fingers.

Long hair is one thing, but it looks ragged because I've never trimmed it.

"Yes. I suppose so."

...