Chapter 30 – Prejudice
After class, students of all kinds rose to their feet, bowed to the teacher, and the teacher nodded in return—without asking if they had any questions. No unnecessary chatter. At the sound of the bell, he simply closed his book and prepared to leave.
At Coleman Academy, instructors were either seasoned veterans or prestigious names in the field—their résumés as thick as the stack of lesson plans they brought.
This class was no exception. Although the new Divine Princesses appeared respectful on the surface, in truth, few were truly paying attention. Only a small handful actually listened; most whispered amongst themselves, while the slightly more patient ones at least followed along for a while before deciding that the content was boring or not particularly useful. Influenced by their environment, they too began chatting in hushed voices with those nearby.
They assumed the teacher on the podium didn’t notice what was happening. They couldn’t have been more wrong.
These were teachers with a minimum of ten years’ experience. From a simple tilt of the head or a crossed pair of arms, they could read a student’s thoughts—how could they possibly miss the low murmurs below?
As instructors often said: "Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing down there. If you don’t believe me, come stand on the podium and see for yourself—it’s crystal clear."
The teacher noticed everything but pretended not to. It wasn’t because he didn’t care, but because he was used to these behaviors from new students.
Every cohort was like this. Without exception. Especially these proud, highborn Divine Princesses—if you tried lecturing them from a position of authority, it’d go in one ear and out the other.
No one knew how to teach Divine Princesses better than Coleman Academy’s instructors.
There was no need to overdo the scolding—just say what needed to be said, and no more.
These fiery youths would soon face reality. And reality would discipline them.
Freshman Divine Princesses were always especially brash and noisy. Some even lacked basic respect for their elders. But by the time they reached second or third year at Coleman, students like that would mysteriously vanish. Wonder why?
Because the instructors had seen it too many times—Divine Princesses falling out with their teams over excessive entitlement. Coleman’s staff had become seasoned experts at handling it.
After all, if you couldn’t even manage basic team interaction after enrolling in Coleman, that just showed a lack of adaptability, didn’t it? If you couldn’t adjust, then maybe you should just go back to where you came from. Coleman had no place for you.
Yes, Divine Princesses were valued treasures across all academies—and Coleman was no exception. But it also upheld one iron rule: quality over quantity. No matter how talented you were, if you were expelled by your team and failed to find another one, you could start packing for expulsion.
That was why the instructors didn’t bother stepping in to “fix” them. Sooner or later, someone—or something—would.
This year's batch of Divine Princesses was no different from the last.
Carrying his books, the square-faced, stern-looking old instructor Carlis adjusted his glasses and prepared to leave.
“Excuse me, might I bother you for a moment of your precious rest and lesson-planning time?”
The crisp, melodious voice, clear as a lark, rang out like a warbler emerging from the valley—light and graceful, yet impeccably polite.
“Hm?” Carlis paused mid-step and turned around. The one who had called out to him was a little golden-haired girl, barely reaching his waist.
An unawakened Divine Princess?
He could tell right away that this girl hadn’t undergone Divine Awakening.
What stood out even more than her striking blonde hair was the unsightly scar on her face.
Who was this child?
Carlis couldn’t recall having seen her before, which struck him as odd. If she were in this class, he should have at least some memory of her.
A transfer student among the freshmen?
That didn’t quite add up. They hadn’t even been formally assigned to classes yet—all freshman courses were still mixed. The concept of transfer students didn’t really apply here.
“You’re... here to ask me a question?” Carlis asked, somewhat incredulous.
“Why else would I stop you, Professor Carlis?” the girl replied with a sweet, well-behaved smile.
“How do you know my name?” he asked, puzzled.
At that, the golden-haired girl let out a silvery peal of laughter and pointed to the nameplate on his chest.
Only then did Carlis realize: his name was written there.
He simply hadn’t noticed, because students almost never paid attention to that detail during the first class. The text on the badge was small.
This child... seemed to pay much closer attention to detail than her peers.
Carlis's expression shifted slightly as he looked at her. He bent down and asked kindly, “What didn’t you understand?”
It wasn’t often a student asked a question after the first lesson. Whether she was showing off or genuinely curious, Carlis, as a teacher, was obligated to respond.
“Professor Carlis, earlier you mentioned that for certain special Divine Princesses, the conditions to activate their Divine Authority Domain differ from the norm. My question is—among these special Divine Princesses, are there subcategories based on the nature of those activation conditions?” Teresa asked earnestly, notebook in hand.
Carlis’s eyes were drawn to the worn journal she was holding, filled cover-to-cover with neat, elegant handwriting. He was moved.
This was only the first lesson, and she had already taken such thorough notes?
“As for that—no. Those Divine Princesses are too unique. If we were to classify them further, each individual case could practically be its own category,” Carlis explained carefully.
“I see. Then, could you perhaps give me a few examples?”
“Well, there are all sorts. I recall one former student whose Divine Authority Domain couldn’t be triggered by danger, only by extreme hunger.”
“Hunger...?” Teresa furrowed her brows. That really was a bizarre activation condition.
“There were others who could only activate their domain when they were full, or whose domains consumed immense stamina when used. Some could only activate it in a state of intense anger... All in all, the types are far too varied to neatly categorize.”
“I see...” Teresa felt a twinge of disappointment. That meant she couldn’t use these traits to narrow down what kind of special category she might belong to.
Her current goal was to use everything she could learn at the academy to unlock her Divine Authority Domain. Coupled with her genuine thirst for knowledge, she was very unlike the others in her class—whose arrogance and edge hadn’t yet been honed. Teresa had the patience to truly study.
She didn’t realize it, but her earnest demeanor had already left a strong first impression on the professor. But in the eyes of her classmates, that same seriousness came across as painfully fake and deliberate—provoking nothing but disdain and contempt.