Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor

Margaret’s next courses of action were clear.

To investigate the banquet hall before the evening’s festivities began. She searched every corner for clues; alcohol, hidden explosives, perhaps even a pyro magic circle.

But there was nothing.

Which left only one conclusion.

Someone had deliberately triggered the explosion during the banquet.

But who?

If she followed the thread logically, who would benefit most from such an event?

The gathering included the Emperor of Aetherion and the royal family of Illenia. A carefully timed assassination would send shockwaves across the continent.

And if the attack occurred on Illenian soil…?

Then the political backlash would fall squarely on Illenia.

To the public eye, it would seem as though Illenia had assassinated Aetherion’s Emperor.

And the consequences of that misunderstanding would be catastrophic.

If she truly was looping, Margaret wanted to confirm it while also trying to find the culprit. Two birds with one stone. For that reason, Margaret returned to the banquet far too early, clad in her usual light-armor, about an hour before the banquet began.

Whoever would set-up magic circles or any explosives had to be here early, right?

And as she waited by the entrance, the first nobleman arrived. He looked suspicious. But Margaret nodded her head, pretending to be a guard and the nobleman stepped inside.

After a moment, Margaret discreetly followed him, who was waiting by the lobby. As she watched, there was nothing oddly suspicious. The man was seated by the couch, reading a book.

Then was it not him? Still, Margaret kept a close eye on him. The next nobleman entered, he too, looked suspicious. But just like the other nobleman, he didn’t do anything suspicious.

And then the next. A noble lady, she looked suspicious as well. But just like the others, they remained in the lobby.

And then the next.

And then the next.

They all looked suspicious.

Was she going mad?

Maybe the culprit was already inside?

Maybe the culprit was among the staff responsible for managing the venue?

But… was that even possible?

All the staff were Illenia citizens, people who had served her family loyally for years. They had no reason to betray Illenia, and no possible benefit to gain from such treachery.

Even entertaining the idea left a bitter taste in Margaret’s mouth.

And yet… she was desperate.

This paradise, this second chance, was all she had. If anything threatened it, she had to eliminate it, no matter how uncomfortable the truth might be.

She had been given the power to prevent the tragedy. She wouldn’t waste it.

Making up her mind, Margaret made her appearance as expected, greeting each guest. Then, before the banquet fully began, she stepped inside the grand hall alone.

“Servants. Please gather here. All of you.”

At first, there was hesitation. The servers glanced at one another in confusion, but Margaret’s expression brooked no question.

“I’ll only ask once.”

One by one, the staff assembled in a neat line; chefs, butlers, waiters, even the maids assigned to decorum.

There were over two dozen of them, all standing curiously as Margaret walked slowly before them, inspecting each face.

She didn’t want to be suspicious. She didn’t want to doubt them.

But if there was even a chance…

“I apologize for the sudden call,” she began. “But I need you to answer truthfully. Has anyone among you seen or heard anything unusual in the past day? Anyone unfamiliar entering the venue? A misplaced object? A smell of magic?”

Silence.

Eyes darted nervously. Some looked at the floor. Others exchanged unsure glances.

“….”

Someone had to know something.

Then, finally, a voice broke the silence.

“I’m very sorry, princess,” one of the younger maids stepped forward, bowing her head slightly. “But the venue has only allowed authorized personnel.”

“Authorized?” Margaret asked. “You’re certain?”

The maid nodded quickly. “Yes. The security measures were strict. Only those whose names were pre-approved by the Illenia Registrar were let in. All equipment, deliveries, and items were screened. There’s been nothing unusual, at least… from what we could see.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed.

So then, no unauthorized personnel, no suspicious deliveries, no signs of tampering.

Which only left one possibility.

It was someone on the inside.

“Run a list,” she said coldly. “All staff who were cleared for this event. I want it reviewed, every name cross-checked, every movement accounted for.”

“Y-Yes, Princess,” the head butler responded with a bow, already motioning for a scribe to begin.

Margaret turned back to the rest of the servants.

“If any of you remember anything—anything at all, no matter how small, it could save lives. Report to me immediately—”

Boom——!

A deafening shockwave tore through the room.

Margaret jolted upright in her bed, breath caught in her throat.

“….”

Her pupils shrank as cold sweat clung to her skin. Something was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong.

The explosion hadn’t waited until the banquet this time. It had happened before, right in front of the servants she’d questioned.

“Why….”

She clenched the sheets in her fists.

It wasn’t the staff. They had all been engulfed in the blast along with her.

Her heart thudded dully in her chest.

The loops were becoming unpredictable. As if the explosion was deliberately following her.

“….”

…And she was starting to lose her mind.

* * *

Boom! Boom! Boom! Explosion after explosion.

Margaret had tried everything. She thought she had done it all right during the fourth run. She had checked the staff, monitored the guests, sealed the entrances, and yet, it still ended in flames.

The fifth run.

Boom—!

The sixth.

Boom—!

Each reset greeted her with the same inferno. The same helpless end.

Just what was she missing?

“Princess? My, did you not sleep?”

“….”

Her maid’s voice cut through the fog in her head. Margaret didn’t respond.

Her eyes were sunken, ringed with dark circles, and her grip tightened around the blanket wrapped around her trembling body.

She had just woken from the blaze… again.

She was losing her grip. Desperation clawed at her thoughts, dulling her senses to the world around her. She barely even registered the maid checking on her condition.

Immediately, Margaret jumped out of bed and stormed down the halls of Illenia Castle.

“Princess?!”

Her bare feet pattered against the cold floors as she made her way toward the grand hall, still in her pajamas.

“Margaret?” Her mother’s voice rose in alarm.

Curious eyes turned to the disheveled princess who had barged into a formal audience between the king and his subjects..

“Mother! Father!” she cried out.

Her parents looked stunned.

Margaret had come to a conclusion.

There was no escaping the loop. The banquet was destined to end in fire no matter what she did. Which meant there was only one logical choice left.

She had to stop the banquet from happening entirely.

Her father rose from his throne, brows furrowed in concern. “Margaret? Why are you—”

“We need to cancel the banquet immediately!”

Her mother stepped forward. “Sweetheart, is something wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine.” Margaret took a shaky breath “But something is going to happen tonight. Something terrible. I’ve seen it over and over again. The banquet must not take place.”

“You’ve seen it?” her father asked, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” Her eyes darted around, trying to grasp some thread of logic that would make them believe her. “Please, just trust me.”

Her parents glanced at each other. Her father then glanced at the royal courtesans, then nodded his head.

“Stop the banquet? But it’s already canceled, Margaret.”

“….”

Margaret froze.

“What…?” she breathed.

“It’s been canceled since this morning. Didn’t your attendant inform you?”

“That can’t be. Just last night… I—”

She stopped herself.

Just last night, she had relived the banquet over and over again. The explosion, the deaths. How many times had she looped?

Her mother stepped closer, brows knitting in concern. “You didn’t know? Margaret, you’ve been locked in your room since dawn. We assumed you needed rest, especially after… well, after how exhausted you looked yesterday.”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly. “This isn’t right.”

Something was terribly wrong. The banquet, the explosion, she remembered it all so vividly. But now, they were telling her it had already been canceled?

“Then what day is it?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Monday,” her father replied. “The banquet was scheduled for Sunday night, but you fell ill yesterday morning. You collapsed in the halls, remember?”

Collapsed?

She didn’t.

None of it made sense.

* * *

In the days that followed, the banquet never took place—and neither did the explosions.

Was that it?

Had she finally escaped the loops?

If so, what had changed? What was the cause of it? What made this iteration different?

She couldn’t say.

The lack of answers was unsettling in its own way.

The loops ceased, and her nightmare faded. Weeks passed, and then months.

The banquet was forgotten and was dismissed as a canceled celebration due to illness.

Life resumed its course, as if nothing had ever been wrong.

“….”

At least, until another incident occurred during her mother’s birthday.

Her father’s poisoning.

Once again, Margaret found herself desperately investigating every lead, interrogating staff, retracing steps, examining every meal, every guest.

But no matter how deep she dug, no matter how many connections she tried to draw, every trail led to a dead-end.

Were celebrations in Illenia cursed? Was that the root of the problem?

With the King incapacitated, the Illenia had weakened considerably. The absence of its monarch left Illenia vulnerable and other Empires quickly noticed.

What followed was a slow but steady fall, as foreign powers circled like vultures.

Even Aetherion, their supposed ally and the Empire with whom Illenia had long maintained diplomatic ties, seized the opportunity.

They embedded themselves deep into Illenia’s governing structure, under the guise of assistance.

And just like that, Margaret was losing her paradise all over again.

The months that followed were nothing short of depressing for both Margaret and her mother. They were being pushed out of power.

And then, a year later…

“….Why.”

Margaret staggered backward, feeling her stomach start to twist.

“Huekh…!”

She dropped to her knees, retching as the world around her spiraled. The taste of bile rose in her throat, but it was nothing compared to the anguish flooding her chest.

Tears streamed down her face yet her eyes were wide. Her mind refused to accept the reality before her.

“No…” she gasped, her voice cracking. “This can’t be happening…”

Not again.

And then came the rage.

Bang!

Margaret slammed her fist into the marble floor. Lavender aura flared around her wildly.

“They just kept taking everything, and everything… even after all we’ve done for them…”

There was no response to her words.

Only her own trembling breath.

“….”

Margaret rose slowly, wiping her tears as fury settled deep within her eyes.

If she could loop now, she would’ve done so in a heartbeat. But there was a sense of fear that clawed at her mind.

What if it didn’t work?

What if this time, death didn’t bring her back?

And so, with everything taken away, her father, her mother, her paradise, Margaret chose the only path that remained.

Revenge.

Against the invaders who took everything from her.

Her vengeance was brutal. She painted the soil of Illenia with blood as she cut down every foreigner within its borders; nobles, officials, knights alike.

It didn’t matter who they were. If they wore Aetherion’s crest or bore the tongue of another empire, they were put to the sword.

Even her own Crusade Order, her most loyal knights, eventually turned their blades against her.

“Grand Knight, why are you doing this?!”

But Margaret looked through them.

“These people… they’re not real. This is just another fabricated world. Another lie.”

A pause. Her fingers tightened around her blade.

“Just like the many others.”

If she were to die here, so be it. The world had always been cruel to her. And if, by some chance, she looped once more, then it was for the better.

“Grand Knight, please, stop this!”

Her sword trembled in her graspas she raised it against her own knights, Clevius, Violette, Zane… one by one.

But Margaret had already made her decision.

Blood ran thicker than water.

Slash—!

And any foe that threatened her paradise had to be eliminated.

Crimson coated her armor. Even her own people came to fear her. She was no longer the beloved Grand Knight.

Instead, the entire continent now referred to her as the Red Princess.

With that title, came a bounty placed on her head so large the entire world’s attention was on her.

And naturally, the Great Powers were dispatched.

And standing before her now… was him.

“…I see,” she muttered.

The Sword Saint, Aston Nietzsche.

No matter the reality, Aston Nietzsche always stood at the summit. A swordsman any knight could only hope to surpass.

It didn’t take long before their blades collided.

Clang—!

Aston’s eyes narrowed in surprise at the force behind her strike. She was far more powerful than he had initially thought.

Each clash between them deepened his realization that the Red Princess was no ordinary opponent.

And that meant he couldn’t hold back.

Aston Nietzsche rarely fought seriously since he never needed to. Capturing his targets alive was the usual objective. But now, as the blows grew heavier and heavier, he knew that wouldn’t be possible.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Sparks scattered across Illenia as lavender clashed with gold.

Margaret, despite her strength, had not devoted herself to the blade the past two years.

And against the Sword Saint, the difference in experience was insurmountable.

She was trying to climb a mountain too steep.

Slash—!

And in one clean motion, Aston’s blade pierced through her.

A flash of pain surged through her chest. Blood spattered the fractured stone beneath her boots, staining the ground.

“If only you hadn’t turned your blade on the world,” Aston said.

Margaret dropped to one knee without responding. She tried to hold his gaze, but her vision blurred.

Just then, her eyes caught something.

“….”

Or rather, someone, who seemed to have been standing in the distance.

A single, lone figure, dressed in his usual black blazer coat, as if he had been watching the spectacle the entire time.

“How….”

‘How are you here?’

Her lips parted in disbelief as her heart clenched at the sight of him.

She couldn’t speak at first. Her throat tightened as though refusing to let the name pass.

“….Vanitas.”

——!

And then everything turned to light.

The last thing she saw was the worried look in his eyes. It had been over two years, and yet, there he was. As if he had witnessed it all, too late to save her, yet still unable to turn away.

She gasped.

Her body jolted upright, drenched in sweat.

Her eyes darted around. She wasn’t in the battlefield anymore, but in her bed.

“My, you scared me, dear. Did you have a nightmare?”

Margaret couldn’t answer her mother’s words. Her eyes were wide open in shock as the sound of her heartbeat echoed louder than her thoughts.

Her mother offered a soft smile as she brushed Margaret’s hair gently behind her ear.

“You were sleeping in,” she continued. “Did you forget? Today is your father’s birthday.”

“…Ah.”

It was all Margaret could manage. Her voice was barely audible.

Because in that moment, realization struck once again.

“B-Birthday?”

“Yes, it’s your father’s 49th birthday.”

She had returned again.

“….”

….By death.

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