Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Evan once again chose a seat in the first row and opened his newly issued General Knowledge textbook. The book was brand-new and thick, emitting a faint scent of ink. The so-called General Knowledge course was not superficial general knowledge but rather an introduction to the hidden world: the power structure of the Sala Empire; an overview of the imperial military; major churches and the supernatural forces they commanded; prominent righteous deities and infamous evil gods—along with their respective cults—that had appeared throughout history; and fundamental common sense and taboos governing the supernatural realm. Were this textbook placed before ordinary people, it would undoubtedly cause a sensation—though some might even mistake it for fantasy fiction.

As in his previous life’s university days, few students sat in the front row—only three, including Evan. Naturally, the three ended up seated together.

“I’m Ista Lamb, Class One, Odessa,” said the boy to Evan’s left. He had brown hair and brown eyes, with faint freckles dusting his cheeks—giving him an approachable, friendly air. The moment he sat down, he introduced himself in a warm, familiar tone, his voice brimming with sincerity and goodwill.

“I’m Evan Noah, Class Two, Sheffield,” Evan replied with a smile, his eyes reflecting genuine kindness.

“The legendary port city—Sheffield!” Ista’s eyes lit up instantly, brimming with curiosity and wonder. “I heard pirates secretly sail there to fence their stolen goods—is that true?” His question made Evan suppress a sigh. He responded diplomatically: “The Imperial Navy is exceptionally powerful—and vigilant.” His words carried quiet pride and unwavering confidence in the navy’s capabilities.

“Pfft!” The boy seated to Evan’s right burst into laughter—drawing both their attentions. He embodied the very image of a fairy-tale prince: golden hair gleaming like sunlight, sea-blue eyes, strikingly handsome features, tall and slender, radiating nobility tempered by gentleness and refinement—a noble youth capable of making young women blush on sight. His smile was as warm as a spring breeze, instantly uplifting those around him.

Noticing their gazes, he smiled amiably. “Louis Capet—Class Four, First Year, native of Backlund.” Then he turned to Ista. “The navy patrols imperial coastal waters twenty-four hours a day. Any pirate vessel approaching territorial waters is sunk on sight.” His tone conveyed absolute confidence—and deep-rooted faith in the empire’s naval supremacy.

Ista scratched his head sheepishly, a faint flush rising on his cheeks. “Ah—I see. So pirate novels really *are* pure fiction.” He paused, then gasped, eyes widening. “Wait—Capet?! The Iron Cross Duke—Duke Capet! Are you perhaps—?” His voice trembled with astonishment and intrigue, as if he’d just uncovered a monumental secret.

Louis quickly waved his hands, speaking urgently. “The Iron Cross Duke’s surname *is* Capet—but I’m only a distant relative of His Grace. My father holds merely the ceremonial title of baronet and serves as a low-ranking clerk at the Imperial Court.” His tone held a quiet humility—and a subtle note of helplessness, as though eager to avoid any misunderstanding born solely from a shared surname.

Backlund, as the imperial capital, housed many influential nobles—but also countless others whose noble lineage had long since faded into empty titles or even commoner status. Thus, sharing a surname with a great noble was hardly extraordinary; a moment’s reflection made that clear. The tension vanished from Ista’s face, replaced by visible relief and ease—he instantly reverted to his usual relaxed, affable self, as if the earlier awkwardness had never occurred.

“Let me share a little gossip,” Ista whispered, lowering his voice conspiratorially, as if divulging a priceless secret. “Our General Knowledge instructor for this class is a stunning beauty—and a mysterious professional.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. “A second-year senior told me she set a historical record—receiving confessions from *twenty* students in a single day!” He spoke as though recounting a legendary tale.

Such gossip instantly ignited the boys’ curiosity. Young men newly entering adolescence naturally harbored fascination—and longing—for beautiful members of the opposite sex. Evan tried to recall whether he’d ever conceived such a character in his own story outline and world-building—but soon abandoned the effort, remembering he’d only drafted a rough sketch and created the protagonist plus one or two key supporting figures.

“There are quite a few female instructors at the Imperial Knight Academy—and several are truly beautiful,” Louis mused thoughtfully, recalling rumors passed down by his recently graduated elder brother. “The one rumored to have received the most student confessions seems to be…” Just as he was about to name her, a graceful figure appeared in the doorway—and Louis froze mid-sentence.

Crisp, rhythmic clicks of red high heels echoed across the floor like delicate musical notes—immediately drawing the attention of numerous boys. Instinctively, they turned toward the sound—and froze too. It spread like contagion: first a few, then a dozen, then dozens. When the woman in crimson heels stepped onto the podium and faced the ring of students ascending upward, her long, elegant eyebrows lifted slightly. Even that subtle gesture seemed flirtatious—accentuated by the alluring tear mole beneath her left eye.

Evan instinctively averted his gaze—but the image of the beautiful instructor remained vividly imprinted in his mind. Luxuriant, fiery-red curls cascaded lazily over her shoulders, exuding irresistible charm. Her fox-like eyes shimmered with seduction; the tear mole at the corner of her left eye amplified her allure to intoxicating effect. “Enchanting” was her defining trait. A form-fitting black dress grazed her ankles—modest from the front, yet when she turned sideways, it revealed the smooth expanse of her fair back. The gently flared hem swayed like a blooming flower with each step, paired perfectly with those scarlet heels—epitomizing the phrase “a breathtaking beauty.”

Evan distinctly heard someone swallow audibly. Glancing sideways, he saw Ista—stunned into silence—unconsciously gulping. Evan’s lips twitched involuntarily. He turned to Louis. Well—he fared slightly better: head bowed, refusing to look up, though his face had flushed deep crimson, like a colonial apple fresh off the ship.

Evan glanced once more at the captivating instructor now poised atop the podium, having already written the lesson title on the board—and found himself doubting his own reaction. Why did such a stunning woman stir no response in him? Was he emotionally detached? For a fleeting moment, panic seized him—until he recalled his reliable morning erections and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. His body, at least, was functioning perfectly in this life. As for his lack of reaction? He couldn’t help but steal another glance at the temptress before him—ripe, radiant, irresistible. Hmm… perhaps she simply wasn’t his type. Yes—that must be it.

Countless thoughts flickered through Evan’s mind—but in reality, only a few breaths had passed.

The enchantress turned, revealing a bewitching smile as radiant as a blossoming flower. Her voice flowed like a nightingale’s song: “My name is Eileen Evans. I’ll be teaching all your General Knowledge classes this year.” Her luminous eyes glimmered; a soft, sweet scent of roses permeated the air, weaving a dreamlike atmosphere. “I don’t take attendance. I don’t ask questions. I don’t care whether you attend class—or not.” The corners of her lovely lips curled upward, her smile growing even more mesmerizing—causing the young men’s hearts to flutter wildly.

Then came the next sentence—cold as a bucket of ice water dumped over their heads.

“However—anyone scoring below eighty on the final exam must retake the course!” Her beautiful eyes swept pointedly toward certain students in the back rows, a glint of stern authority flashing within them. “Even if you reach your fourth year—you *still* must retake it. General Knowledge is a mandatory course. Fail it—and you cannot graduate. And at the Imperial Knight Academy—if you haven’t graduated within five years—you’re expelled.” A few students who privately doubted their memorization skills paled slightly, anxiety already gnawing at their futures.

The stunning Eileen smiled—utterly unconcerned that she’d just shattered some students’ confidence. She stood like a sovereign queen—commanding, unassailable, in total control.

“That concludes my introduction. Let’s begin Lesson One: *The Empire and the Military*.” She winked playfully at the young men—her eyes brimming with tantalizing mischief. True to her word, there was no roll call, no questioning—she simply began lecturing.

Though Eileen imposed no formal classroom discipline, with such an entrancing beauty standing mere feet away, any normal male could do nothing but stare—riveted. Consequently, the entire lecture hall fell utterly silent—save for the mellifluous resonance of Eileen’s voice filling the space.

Wait—Evan suddenly realized something. This hall was enormous—and Eileen Evans spoke at the soft, refined volume typical of a noblewoman’s everyday conversation. Yet judging by everyone’s reactions, every single person heard her words with perfect clarity! A knight? Or a professional? Evan’s gaze toward Eileen sharpened instantly—with newfound awe. As if sensing his scrutiny, she casually glanced back at him. An hour later, the class bell rang. Eileen gathered her books with effortless grace—swift, elegant, precise. She blew a playful kiss to the seated students. “See you next week, sweethearts.” Then she glided out of the classroom, her retreating silhouette a living work of art.

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