Chapter 3: The Brat Strikes Back
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A palm-sized blade of compressed cyan energy whistled past my head, slicing the air with a high-pitched shriek. I felt the cold rush of magical energy as it barely missed my scalp. The spell struck the distant wall with surprising accuracy, exploding into a shower of blue-green sparks and leaving a pale scratch across the stone.
But not quite a miss—a perfectly severed lock of my meticulously maintained chestnut hair spiraled through the air before settling on the grass at my feet, like a taunt made physical.
I froze mid-step, breath catching in my throat. With trembling fingers, I touched the jagged edge where my hair had been sliced away. As someone who considered hair volume sacred, this assault felt like attempted murder. The little demon had crossed a line. How DARE he touch my hair!
Rage boiling over, I opened my mouth to unleash hell—when something cold and soft slipped down my collar. Then came the unmistakable sensation of something furry with MANY legs racing down my spine. The feeling was horrifyingly realistic—like a massive jungle spider using my bare skin as its personal racetrack.
【System Notification: NPC 'Frederick' has used item 'Illusory Spider' on you.】
"AAAAHHHHH!"
A shriek erupted from my throat—a sound utterly unbecoming of Winifred's dignified noble persona—that probably reached the castle towers. My scalp prickled as every hair on my body stood at attention, all rational thought obliterated by primal terror. I thrashed wildly, jumping and twisting like a cat in a bathtub, desperately clawing at my clothes to dislodge the eight-legged horror.
The palm-sized "spider" finally tumbled to the ground, its legs twitching with disturbing realism before dissolving with a soft "poof" into harmless blue-green mist.
The little devil responsible stood nearby, doubled over with laughter at my expense. That cherubic face—which could have graced a cathedral ceiling—now twisted with unholy glee at his successful prank.
"Teacher, you're so dumb!" he giggled, barely able to catch his breath. "It's just a basic illusion spell!"
Rage made my entire body quiver, my chest heaving as I jabbed a shaking finger in his direction. I stalked to the nearby stone table where faculty refreshments awaited and grabbed a delicate bone china cup of tea. One sip to calm my nerves, I thought, desperately trying to regain my composure and devise a "professionally appropriate" way to discipline this royal terror without losing what little dignity I had left.
The moment the liquid touched my tongue, an unholy explosion of brine assaulted my senses—as if someone had boiled down the entire ocean into concentrated fish sauce. The taste was so intense it numbed my taste buds instantly, the sensation shooting straight to my brain.
【System Notification: You have consumed 'Ultra-Concentrated Salty Potion'. Status Effect: 'Nauseous' (Duration: 10 minutes).】
"PFFFFT!"
Tea sprayed across the pristine lawn as my stomach performed gymnastics. The revolting taste clung to my throat like tar, tears springing involuntarily to my eyes as I doubled over in a coughing fit.
Through watery eyes, I spotted the culprit still giggling, an empty glass vial clutched in his tiny hand—evidence of his latest masterpiece.
In that moment, the final thread of my self-control snapped with an almost audible "ping."
Enough was enough! To hell with professional decorum! To hell with noble etiquette!
I grabbed the demonstration staff from nearby—a solid oak rod topped with a neutral magic crystal—its weight satisfying in my grip as I transformed it into an instrument of justice. I lunged forward, eyes blazing with righteous fury.
Frederick's smug grin faltered as he registered my transformation from dignified instructor to avenging fury. Realizing his peril, he attempted escape on those stubby little legs—but what chance did he have against an enraged adult? Three strides and I had him, snatching him up by his collar like a misbehaving kitten.
As he dangled and squirmed in my grip, I raised the staff high and brought it down with righteous force upon his silk-covered royal behind!
Wood met princely posterior with a deeply satisfying "THWACK!" that echoed across the practice field.
"YEEEOWWW!" Frederick howled with such theatrical agony you'd think I'd amputated a limb rather than delivered a well-deserved swat.
【System Notification: You have inflicted 1 point of physical damage to NPC 'Frederick'. Status Effects added: 'Pain', 'Shame'.】
His dramatic wail—like a boulder crashing into a serene pond—instantly halted all activity across the practice field. Spell-casters froze mid-incantation, sword-fighters lowered their blades, and like sharks scenting blood, students converged from every direction.
They pressed in around us, forming a tight spectator circle three deep. Each face displayed the same fascinating blend of shock, curiosity, and barely-concealed delight at witnessing this historic moment—a commoner disciplining royalty.
Sensing his audience, Frederick's performance intensified tenfold. He crumpled dramatically to the ground, smearing tears across his face with his sleeve while forcing out a few glistening drops for effect. "Third Brother! Fifth Sister!" he wailed. "Help me! My tutor is trying to beat me to death! Winifred has gone mad! She's attempting to murder royalty!"
From the crowd, a handsome youth in knight's training gear—bearing a family resemblance to Frederick—merely raised an eyebrow. Rather than intervening, he crossed his arms with undisguised amusement. Above his head floated the text [Third Prince Alex LV.20]. Beside him stood a stunning young woman in an elaborate gown—[Fifth Princess Isabella LV.18]—delicately hiding her smile behind a lace fan, though her crescent-moon eyes betrayed her delight at the spectacle.
Clearly, every royal at the Academy harbored deep-seated grievances against their insufferable little brother.
A window creaked open in the distant teaching tower. The Academy Headmaster—resplendent in his official robes, his long salt-and-pepper beard flowing—appeared in the frame. Disturbed by the commotion, he frowned and delivered two authoritative coughs, a token effort to restore order.
Every student—including the royal siblings—swiveled toward the tower in perfect unison. Their expressions conveyed a complex blend of pleading, desperation, and hope as they silently communicated: "Please, sir, look the other way! Let her finish what she started! For the academy's peace! We'll gladly take detention for a week!"
The Headmaster stroked his magnificent beard, visibly torn between "enforcing regulations" and "allowing pest control to proceed." After a moment's deliberation, he slowly—with the deliberate air of someone choosing not to witness a necessary evil—closed the window.
Perfect! No one can save you now, and more importantly, no one wants to! The stars have aligned against you, little prince! Let's see if you'll dare pull these stunts again!
I rotated my wrist, savoring the staff's reassuring weight before raising my "Rod of Justice" high. Today I would settle all accounts—past and present—with this tiny terror. And while I was at it... avenge my poor, nameless lock of hair, cut down in its prime!
