Academy’s Undercover Professor

At my words, the students held their breath.

Some because they didn’t know what “source code” even meant.

Others because they were shocked by the emergence of a new kind of magic.

Some of them.

And some others.

But I knew that despite all the different reactions, their gazes were fixed on the same point—and none of those emotions were hostile.

‘Well, I guess I can’t blame them for being surprised.’

No matter how developed science is, this world is still roughly equivalent to the 19th century back on Earth.

Because it evolved around magic instead of science, it made far more dramatic leaps than the history I knew—but still.

To someone who lived in the 21st century, there were inevitably many gaps.

Most of all, the lack of a computer-based information system was one of the biggest.

‘Source code is essentially a blueprint—something that produces a defined result as long as you input the right values. I just applied that concept to magic.’

Of course, I didn’t make it all by myself.

The idea was mine, yes—but the actual structure and completion of the concept only became possible thanks to the help of my mentor, the one who taught me magic.

Still, since I contributed to its creation, there’s no issue with teaching it to students.

And knowing my mentor’s personality, he’s not the kind of person to make a fuss over something like this. The real issue would only come up when we meet again.

Anyway, back to the main point.

This technique called “source code” is essentially a workaround—a trick, really—built upon memories from my life on Earth.

To students who may understand algorithms but know nothing about computer hardware, software, programs, inputs, outputs, or code, it would sound like nonsense.

More than that, mages here are stuck in place, inflated by elitism and overconfidence, and they’ve developed a widespread tendency to sneer at science.

So for them, to easily accept a method based on a scientific framework would be unthinkable.

They’d probably foam at the mouth yelling, “This isn’t real magic!”

Compared to those kinds of people, I’d say I’m pretty open-minded in how I think.

‘Although, I wasn’t even sure about the idea when I first came up with it.’

To run a software like source code, you need hardware, a program, and data.

In this context, the hardware refers to either a wand capable of casting magic—or the mage themself.

The program is the preset magic formula, and the data is the mana required to manifest it.

In the end, the source code I used is a magic that compresses the entire process:

It consumes data (mana) through biological hardware (a person),

follows a program (the spell formula),

and executes a software (magic).

As long as you have the source code, even complex spell structures can produce a finished result just by infusing a small amount of mana.

To put it simply, while other people carefully draw every stroke of a spell formula by hand, I just stamp it like a seal.

Think of the difference between handwriting and print.

No matter how fast a person writes, they can’t keep up with the speed of metal printing.

And once people get anxious, they start making mistakes.

Lines in the formula go crooked, finishing touches get botched, mana flow becomes tangled or misordered—

Naturally, the spell fails, losing all its mystic power.

In worse cases, mana can backfire, putting the caster’s life in danger.

But a programmed source code doesn’t allow for any of that.

It produces only the exact, predetermined result—under any condition.

Its speed is something no ordinary mage can match.

‘Well, unless you’re talking about 6th-circle mages or higher.’

Those people are like supercomputers in human form, so they’re not even in the equation.

But for the students of Seorn Academy—most of whom aren’t even ripe yet—this source code must seem like a true revolution.

‘Of course, it’s not without drawbacks. It can only be used up to 3rd-circle spells. Any higher and the mana capacity overloads the process. And then there’s the fact that making this damn thing in the first place is a hellishly complex and exhausting ordeal.’

There’s a reason why computer programmers go through endless testing and debug all kinds of patterns.

I nearly fried my brain making just this one.

Still, once you’ve built it, you can use it again and again—super convenient.

Especially for anything up to 3rd-circle magic. No need to go through the hassle of crafting the spell manually every time.

In the end, this source code magic is a product of invention—created so someone without talent could at least try to catch up to those who have it.

That I still can’t be considered top-tier despite going this far... is honestly kind of depressing.

But hey, what can you do?

In an academy full of geniuses, if I want to survive as an instructor for even just two years, I need to use every trick I’ve got.

Well, after pulling this off, at least they won’t look down on me so easily anymore, right?

Let’s hope so.

* * *

In the face of the revolutionary new magic system called “source code,” the students all clamped their mouths shut.

The silence that settled over the lecture hall was almost feverish.

Especially the first-years—it looked like lasers were about to shoot out of their eyes.

They had chosen Ludger Cherish’s class half on a whim, unsure if he was worth it—and now they were witnessing this?

Some of them felt a chill run down their spines.

‘If I had made a different choice in that brief moment of impulse...’

‘If I hadn’t come to this class today...’

A spell for spells.

A new form of magical manifestation that defied common sense.

To miss the chance to witness it with their own eyes—and worse, to lose the chance to learn it—

That was a nightmare so terrifying that just imagining it sent shivers down to their marrow and left their insides aching.

...They were truly relieved.

Every student present in that lecture hall shared the same thought.

And they began to see Ludger in a new light.

Yes, his first impression had been different from what they expected—serious, deep, and intense.

But at the end of the day, what mattered most for a magic academy instructor was magical skill.

You can’t earn a student’s respect by repeating what others have said.

But now—

Now that they had seen a new kind of magic, the students’ feelings toward Ludger had gone beyond respect and reached reverence.

And above all, Ludger’s demeanor was shocking in itself.

Even after publicly demonstrating a discovery that could be called the magical breakthrough of the century, he showed no sign of excitement.

That calmness made the students suddenly wonder:

Could this man truly see such a revolutionary magic as something ordinary—something to casually display in front of everyone?

Maybe...

Maybe he had even more tricks up his sleeve beyond this extraordinary invention?

If this was his reaction after unveiling such a marvel, then there had to be something else. Something even greater.

At that moment—

A flame ignited in the hearts of all 80 students present in the lecture hall of the magic academy.

If I learn that magic—

If I can make his teachings my own—

‘I can grow even more!’

Their fierce determination shone in their eyes, and riding the wave of heated anticipation, those eyes locked onto Ludger.

Ludger, with his eyes half-lidded, responded as if it was all no big deal—but under his neat uniform, his back was drenched in cold sweat.

‘What’s with those eyes?’

He had only hoped for a moderate reaction. Maybe a few students thinking, “Wow, he’s kinda impressive,” or “Seems like a decent teacher.”

But their reactions were far beyond what he expected.

Eyes hotter than molten lava bursting through bedrock.

Caught in their intensity, Ludger had to steel himself even further, lashing his own heart with discipline to keep a poker face.

He’d already played one of his hidden cards—this would buy him some time.

But he knew he couldn’t rely on this forever.

If he didn’t want the academy to find out he was a fraud—

If he didn’t want the secret organization to discover he was a fake—

He would have to prepare even more.

‘Let’s take this all the way.’

To survive.

First, he had to deal with the daughter of a duke standing on the podium.

“Flora Lumos.”

Flinch.

Still entranced by the source code magic Ludger had unleashed, Flora finally snapped out of it.

Ludger’s cold, razor-sharp gaze was fixed directly on her.

It felt like a blade had pierced her chest and was twisting deep into her heart.

‘Wh-What is this man...?’

She had always believed she was a genius.

And she had the talent to match.

No one doubted her. Anyone who ever did was quickly silenced when she demonstrated her skills firsthand.

Even the academy instructors fumbled in front of her.

No matter how much older they were, no matter how long they had studied magic, no matter how hard they worked—

She had always stayed ahead of them.

Even ahead of her teachers.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

But this man was different.

He didn’t flaunt himself, didn’t boast. Nor was he swayed by others.

It was like looking at a pillar of steel, deeply embedded in the ground and standing tall.

Even when storms raged, when rain or snow poured, he would not rust or wear away.

No matter how she tried to find a flaw in him, not even a single scar could be found.

‘How is this man a newly appointed teacher? Source code? I’ve never even heard of magic like that.’

The pressure he exuded /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ was enough to make even Flora—who had met royalty multiple times—lower her guard.

Even the noble princess herself had widened her eyes at the sight of Ludger.

“A revolutionary method of shortening spell structures. Has your lingering question finally been answered?”

“...Yes.”

Flora forced herself to answer calmly.

She straightened her posture and steadied her trembling voice, repeating to herself not to waver.

Was her effort amusing somehow?

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Ludger’s lips.

As if he had already seen straight through her desperate attempt to appear strong.

“Flora Lumos.”

“...Yes, professor.”

“You acted out of your own narrow-mindedness and asked a question I did not permit. Do you acknowledge that?”

Flora bit her lip hard.

It was humiliating, but there was no room for objection.

Clenching her small fists, she struggled to move her lips.

“Yes... I acknowledge it.”

A crushing sense of defeat unlike anything she’d ever felt.

The admiring gazes of her fellow students, which she normally took for granted, now pierced her like blades.

Suddenly, a memory she had long tried to forget resurfaced.

The face of her father, looking down on her with cold eyes. Her foolish desire to win recognition through sheer pride.

She fought back tears with all her might.

She couldn’t break down here—not yet.

“You’re aware of it yourself, so I won’t say more. But your actions clearly challenged the authority of a teacher. As I warned from the beginning, I won’t let this pass.”

“...Yes.”

“Flora Lumos. You are hereby given 10 demerit points.”

A demerit.

Not something inherently unusual—except when the target was Flora.

The genius of Seorn who had never once made a single mistake.

She had no connection whatsoever to the concept of demerits, and everyone believed she never would. Which made even a mere 10 points feel enormous.

A flaw etched into what was supposed to be a perfect work of art.

That’s why it hurt more than anything else.

“Any complaints?”

“...No. I believe it’s fair.”

Flora bit her lip again.

“My god.”

“Flora... got demerits?”

Even the other students were shocked to hear that Flora had received a penalty.

And it wasn’t even an arbitrary judgment—she herself admitted it was deserved.

Flora stepped down from the podium with heavy steps and returned to her seat.

At that moment, Ludger’s voice called out to her.

“However, the [Flickering Flame] spell structure you demonstrated was the most flawless I’ve ever seen.”

She stopped mid-step and turned back toward the platform.

Ludger was looking at her—with the same unwavering, unshaken gaze as always.

“I don’t dislike students with real ability. So, Flora Lumos. You are awarded 10 merit points.”

Ten merit points.

Just like that, the ten demerit points were effectively nullified.

Some students who admired Flora sighed in relief, while others who envied her felt it was a shame.

But Flora herself felt something different—an unprecedented sense of humiliation.

Even if the demerits were erased, the fact that she had received them would remain.

Even after ten years—or perhaps for the rest of her life—it would be something she could never forget.

And now, a sudden reward?

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Flora interpreted Ludger’s gesture of awarding points like this:

A victor's mercy given to a foolish challenger who dared to raise her hand against him. Even the compliment—nothing but a form of mockery.

That left a deeper, more indelible wound on her pride.

“...Thank you.”

And yet—

It was all she could say.

When she returned to her seat, Sheryl, who had been anxiously watching the entire exchange, whispered with concern.

“Flora. Are you okay?”

Sheryl knew just how strong Flora’s pride was. More accurately, she knew Flora had no choice but to be that way because of her past.

For someone like Flora to be publicly chastised by a newly appointed instructor... it was hard to imagine how much shame she must have felt.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Flora answered with a bright smile. That composed, elegant expression was no different from her usual self. Not the look of someone who had just been hurt.

‘Ah. So she’s okay. Of course. It’s Flora—we all know she can shake this off in no time.’

Sheryl breathed a sigh of relief.

She felt like a fool for even worrying that her friend might spiral in a bad direction.

Even now, Flora was gazing toward the podium with her usual calm face, preparing to listen to the rest of the lecture.

But Sheryl hadn’t seen it.

No one in the classroom had seen it.

The raging fire that had ignited in Flora’s eyes—hot enough to burn everything to ashes.

* * *

I glanced at Flora as she returned to her seat.

Only just now did it hit me that the Lumos family was a famous ducal house in the Empire. Which meant that girl was a duke’s daughter.

...Could she possibly try to use her family’s power to retaliate over what just happened? Go home and tell her father or something?

This was still Seorn, after all. But the students were young, so I couldn’t completely rule out the possibility.

However, Flora’s expression at her seat looked calm. She was talking naturally with the friend beside her, and nothing seemed off.

Hmm. Alright.

She seems smart enough not to stew over something like this out of petty spite.

Besides, the merit points I gave her were meant as a gesture of goodwill—an attempt at reconciliation, to avoid any lingering resentment.

And it seemed like she accepted it.

I was genuinely glad about that.

“Well then, let’s begin the first lecture.”