Controversy. Politics.
One could not exist without the other.
While politics thrived on public perception, controversy was the tool in shaping it.
A scandal, a bold claim, or a defiance of norms. These were the things that made names linger on people’s tongues. To wield controversy effectively was to control the narrative, and to control the narrative was to dictate power itself.
Such a dynamic emerged around Vanitas Astrea on a certain morning. It was to the point where even first-year students, who were out of the loop, couldn’t help but gossip.
——Is that true…?
——Really…. So the professor…?
Under normal circumstances, this kind of misstep could have ruined his credibility, leading to suspension or worse.
But timing was everything.
Now acclaimed by the crown and celebrated as a rising scholar who had undeniably saved lives, Vanitas’s achievements overshadowed that one mistake.
Where a single error typically taints even the most stellar reputation, his recent feats were so monumental that many scholars were willing to turn a blind eye.
Meanwhile, the accused student had quietly vanished from public view. In reality, however, Arwen had been committed to a mental asylum.
Despite the cover-up, gossip persisted. Even first-year students began asking upperclassmen about the incident, and rumors spread quickly in just a single morning.
Naturally, scrutiny of Vanitas Astrea surfaced once again.
But then again, timing was everything.
Slam—!
The lecture hall doors burst open. Every gaze shifted to the figure stepping through.
Tak. Tak—!
The sound of his boots clicking against the marbled floor echoed. The man who was at the heart of this particular class’s conversation.
Silas Ainsley.
His suspension had been lifted in December, and there was an undeniable change about him. His cyan hair was now trimmed, and he carried himself differently.
Ignoring the stares, Silas took an empty seat. Though the incident at the play had been largely covered up, speculation lingered.
Naturally, everyone wondered.
Was it really just a fight between two students, or was it out of… revenge?
“Hm?” Silas noticed the sudden lull in the room. “Why are you all looking at me?”
“Uhm… Silas. You… you’ve heard, right?” someone ventured.
“Heard what?”
“Your sister. And Professor Vanitas.”
“Ah, that.” Silas tilted his head, pondering for a moment before replying. “It was an honest mistake.”
Silence fell over the room. Arwen’s plight was hardly a trivial matter. To call it an “honest mistake” felt uncomfortably dismissive.
“What?” Silas pressed, taken aback by their reactions.
“Uhm…”
“You people shouldn’t stick your noses where they don’t belong,” he said, frowning. “It’s annoying.”
Just like that, the gossip in the lecture hall died down. Not because they had lost interest, but because Silas had made it clear he had no interest in entertaining it.
He figured something similar was likely spreading in other classes where Professor Vanitas taught, but in the end, that’s all it was—gossip.
Students had no real power to act on it. Even if someone did hold a grudge strong enough to use this narrative as leverage, it wasn’t his concern.
Their agreement only extended so far.
It was then, however, when the man of the hour arrived.
He walked with effortless grace, exuding the refined poise of nobility itself.
Every stride seemed to capture everyone’s attention, and each step echoed rhythmically like that of heartbeats as his black trench coat billowed behind him.
He was dressed appropriately for the cold season.
“….”
His sharp amethyst gaze remained fixed ahead, as if all the gossip meant absolutely nothing to him.
Following behind him were Charlotte and Karina, in order. Charlotte quietly took her seat, while Karina set aside the professor’s lecture notes and prepared his materials.
“Let’s begin.”
Indeed, nothing. Absolutely nothing. The gossips, the preconceived narrative—it all meant nothing to him.
Vanitas Astrea took his place at the front of the hall. He didn’t acknowledge the discreet murmurs or curious glances his way.
He didn’t need to.
“You,” he said suddenly, pointing at a student in the third row.
The student stiffened. “Y-Yes, professor?”
“Recite the Point Concession Theory by Karl Maxwin.”
“Huh? Which—”
“Top to bottom.”
“….”
A beat of silence.
Vanitas didn’t turn around. He continued drawing a complex magic circuit on the chalkboard effortlessly as if the exchange wasn’t even worth his attention.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, his tone detached. “You had no trouble speaking nonsense to Miss Waylan beside you, yet now you can’t manage this?”
The student swallowed hard, eyes darting toward their notes in a quiet panic.
“Professor, I—”
Vanitas didn’t let them finish.
“Sit down.”
The student dropped into their seat as if the strength had left their legs. The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then, Vanitas spoke.
“Point Concession Theory, by Karl Maxwin….”
Without so much as a glance at his notes, he began to recite.
Students instinctively followed along, eyes darting between their textbooks and the professor standing before them.
Each word that left his lips elicited mixed reactions from the students.
“By conceding inconsequential points, the opposition is lulled into a false sense of dominance….”
….He was reciting it word for word. Exactly as it was written in the textbook.
Not a single deviation. Not a single misplaced adjective, noun, or pronoun.
If one were to flip through the pages in real-time, Vanitas’s voice would match perfectly, as though the words had been printed in his mind.
“However, if improperly executed, concession weakens one’s stance rather than fortifying it. To concede without intention is to relinquish control of the argument entirely….”
His tone never faltered, and his cadence remained even.
“The illusion of weakness, when properly wielded, forces the opposition to reveal their true position….”
Word for word.
Without ever glancing at a single note.
He recited the entire theory from top to bottom, as if it were second nature, all while writing a completely different topic on the chalkboard.
To put it into perspective, the theory spanned over 43 pages. It took him exactly 39 minutes and 22 seconds to recite it in its entirety. Without so much as a pause or a single stutter.
In that moment, the realization settled over the room.
Even when Vanitas made a mistake in the past, his intellect was far from mere talk.
No professor or student in Silver University Tower could hope to challenge this man.
Why?
Because he was the leading candidate for Imperial Professor.
* * *
The moment it happened, a formal request for a meeting with the professor was arranged—by none other than Dianna Ainsley, Silas’s mother.
And according to her, her husband would be attending as well. Though at the moment he had yet to arrive.
A tight-lipped frown marred her otherwise refined features.
As a member of the Marquess Ainsley Family, she was accustomed to wielding authority. Yet, the fact that Vanitas, who had been only a Viscount mere weeks ago, now stood on equal footing with them seemed to infuriate her to no end.
Status dictated influence. And now, the Ainsleys had missed the chance to make unreasonable demands to him.
Inside Vanitas’s office, the atmosphere was heavy. The two sat across from each other in a scene that felt almost like a parent-teacher conference.
At Vanitas’s order, Karina silently placed a teacup on the table before them, then wordlessly excused herself out, leaving the two alone.
Dianna glanced at the cup before shifting her gaze toward Vanitas.
“Tell me, Professor,” she began. “What made you even consider accusing my daughter of plagiarism? That year, Arwen was the only one who suffered such an allegation.”
“Academic integrity is paramount,” he replied. “At the time, as a newly appointed professor, I saw the need to speak my mind.”
Dianna’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And yet, you were wrong.”
Vanitas didn’t blink. “Mistakes are inevitable. What matters is how they are rectified.”
“Rectified….” Dianna’s expression tightened. She bit her lip as if holding back something inexplicable. “Your mistake nearly tarnished my husband’s name and our family’s reputation.”
Vanitas raised a brow. Husband?
Interesting.
His gaze flashed with curiosity, but only for a moment. Then, he exhaled lightly, setting his cup down.
“Mind you, Lady Ainsley, I was not the sole professor involved in the matter. I merely acted within the bounds of my academic duty, and presented facts as I understood them. Other professors reviewed the case and shared their insights as well.”
Dianna’s fingers twitched slightly against her teacup.
“And yet you were the one who spoke the loudest.”
“Because I had conviction in what I saw,” he said smoothly. “As did others. The difference is that I’m the only one who acknowledges my mistake now while the others cower in silence.”
A heavy pause followed.
Dianna inhaled slowly, her grip tightening ever so slightly around her teacup.
“And you expect that to be enough? A mere acknowledgment? Do you even hear yourself?”
“I expect nothing, Lady Ainsley. I simply stated the truth as I understood it then. Just as I do now.”
Her jaw tightened. “How convenient.”
Vanitas arched a brow. “Is it?”
Dianna exhaled, fingers lacing together as she regarded him with clear frustration.
“You spoke with conviction when you accused my daughter. You tarnished her name and by extension, my family’s. Now, after three years of silence, you expect to wash your hands of it with a simple admission of error?”
Vanitas tilted his head slightly. “I never sought absolution.”
Dianna’s eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t suppose you did. You don’t seem like the type to concern yourself with atonement.”
His lips curled faintly. “Atonement is irrelevant to the truth.”
She let out a short, humorless laugh. “How very professorial of you.”
“And how very aristocratic of you to believe that reputation outweighs facts.”
The tension between them was palpable.
This professor was every bit the serpent she had heard him to be. If she wasn’t careful, he would coil around her before she even realized it.
She straightened slightly but leaned forward just enough to close the space between them, lowering her voice.
“Then tell me, Professor,” she said. “Why now?”
Vanitas remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate.
“This issue has been buried for three years. My daughter is gone from the public eye. The accusations faded. The gossip died down. So why now? What made you decide to retract your statements now?”
Vanitas exhaled lightly, resting his chin against his knuckles.
His amethyst eyes held no guilt, nor any signs of hesitation. Only the cool detachment of a man who had already decided where this conversation would lead.
Then, he spoke.
“The truth was buried. Not erased.”
Dianna’s jaw tightened. “That is not an answer.”
Vanitas regarded her carefully. Then, after a pause, he leaned back slightly, folding his arms.
“Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But it is the only answer that matters.”
“….”
Stay tuned with FreeNovelFire
Dianna’s nails pressed faintly against the porcelain of her teacup.
Vanitas continued.
“You ask why now,” he said. “But tell me, Lady Ainsley—why not?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Because it’s already too late for my daughter.
Vanitas’s expression didn’t change. “Yes. It is.”
A glint of something unreadable crossed Dianna’s face. Was it anger? Or something else?
Dianna exhaled slowly, composing herself. When she finally spoke, her voice was as controlled as can be.
“I came here to understand your reasoning, Professor,” she said, her fingers gliding along the rim of her teacup. “Not to debate philosophy with you.”
“And yet, here we are.”
“You’ve made an enemy of my family before, Professor. Do you really intend to do so again? Do you have any idea who my husband is?”
Vanitas exhaled lightly. Not out of frustration. Not out of amusement.
But out of certainty.
“I do not make enemies, Lady Ainsley,” he said, his tone smooth as glass. “I simply do not ignore the facts.”
“….”
Dianna studied him carefully, searching for anything she could use to pry open the ironclad demeanor he wore so effortlessly.
“….”
….But she found nothing.
Her grip on her teacup tightened, though her expression remained poised.
“You speak as if the truth is something absolute,” she said slowly. “But truth, Professor, is often determined by those in power.”
Vanitas chuckled. Not out of amusement, but as if he had expected nothing less.
“Spoken like a true aristocrat,” he mused. “To believe that power dictates truth rather than the other way around.”
Dianna regarded him for a long moment, pondering her next words carefully.
Then, finally, she asked, “Do you regret it?”
“I regret my mistake.” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “But not my actions.”
“How insufferable.”
A man who’s convictions remained firm. If he were any more insane, she was certain he’d have the gall to argue back-to-back with the Imperial Prince himself.
Their heated debate continued. Neither backed down. They spoke in facts as each refused to bend to the other’s narrative.
It was then.
A voice from beyond the door interrupted their exchange.
——Yes, they’re both inside.
——Is that so? Thank you for guiding me, Young Lady.
A knock followed. To— Tok.
Then, the door opened slightly.
A man wearing an ushanka stepped in. From the structure of his face, he bore a striking resemblance to Silas.
There was no doubt.
This was most certainly his father.
And this woman’s husband.
A leading candidate in the elections—one vying for the coveted position of Assemblyman.
Simon Ainsley.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Simon Ainsley said, removing his ushanka.
Vanitas exhaled lightly, tilting his head just so. “Not at all. Please, sit, Mister Ainsley.”
There was much to discuss.
* * *
“Did you know about this, Charlotte?”
Inside the clubroom, members gathered with uneased, worried about the professor.
Those in the appropriate circles, who understood the Ainsley Family’s political clout, felt it keenly.
Charlotte paused at Astrid’s question before shaking her head. “No. I had no idea my brother was dealing with this all week. I’ve heard the rumors, but… I’m not sure what to say.”
To Astrid, however, the revelation struck a deeper chord. The professor she had always thought of as flawless, as someone beyond error, was capable of making mistakes too.
Still, of all possible entanglements, why did his mistake have to involve the Ainsley Family?
As they glanced around the room, a realization settled over them.
“Where’s Ezra?”
Ezra wasn’t present
Ezra—who, much to Astrid’s reluctance to admit—was likely the professor’s favorite student now.
“This can’t be happening!”
* * *
“Aren’t you going to step in?”
“Hm?” Silas glanced up, unbothered. “No. The professor has it all covered. I’m not exactly in a favorable position within my family these days. I’d only add fuel to the fire.”
He picked up a tray from the counter, scanning the options before nodding to himself.
“Yes, yes. I’ll have this.”
Silas had already done what he could. He had informed the professor about his mother’s visit and warned him that there was a small chance his father would show up as well.
Though, knowing his father… that chance was slim. Simon Ainsley was a busy man.
“If you say so,” Ezra replied, grabbing his own tray.
The two finished selecting their meals and found a seat, settling across from each other.
“Anyway, you picked a bad time to visit,” Ezra said, laughing. “Exams are coming up in two weeks.”
Silas raised a brow. “So?”
Ezra smirked. “So, have you studied?”
“More or less,” he said, smirking. “You’ll see.”
Before Ezra could respond, a presence suddenly appeared over their table.
“Silas. Please come to Professor Vanitas’s office. Your presence is expected.”
It was Karina.
Silas and Ezra exchanged a glance. Then, with a small nod, Ezra gestured for Silas to go.
“I wasn’t asking for your approval…” he muttered, standing up.
Karina turned on her heel and began walking, expecting him to follow.
Ezra watched them go, exhaling lightly before focusing back on his food.