Chapter 23: The Demon Eye’s Gaze

Lucy, sensing an unfamiliar magical presence, paused mid-speech and turned toward its source.

The presence emanated from a high seat in the audience. Among the four demons seated there, a man with long blond hair stood out. His piercing gaze was fixed on her.

Ordinarily, it wouldn’t be unusual for an audience member to watch a speaker. But the problem was that he was using the Demon Eye.

His eyes, as blue as glass, radiated an unknown magical energy—undeniable proof of the Demon Eye’s activation.

Judging from the nature of his gaze, Lucy deduced that his ability was related to ‘insight.’

He had attempted to spy on her.

Of course, his effort would have been in vain due to the illusionist’s unique ability, ‘Information Blocking.’ But the real question remained—who was he, and why was he trying to pry into her secrets?

Lucy considered shifting into battle mode, but she hesitated when she recognized the emblem on his cloak. The crest of Helathor marked him as a member of the royal family.

Besides, if he were an enemy, he wouldn’t be sitting in such a prominent position.

Even so, it was infuriating.

Spying on someone without their permission was a severe breach of etiquette in ‘Ragnarok.’

Lucy subtly activated her magic, sending a cold warning to the man—a silent command to stop prying where he wasn’t welcome.

The man smiled awkwardly, seemingly understanding the message.

Meanwhile, murmurs spread through the auditorium. The sudden pause in Lucy’s speech had caught the audience’s attention.

Andreyan, the event moderator, leaned in and whispered, his expression slightly flustered. “Lucy, is something wrong?”

She shook her head, brushing it off. She had no desire to linger on the stage any longer than necessary.

Speaking before a crowd of hundreds was nerve-wracking enough. She just wanted to finish the speech and get off the stage.

Taking a deep breath, she continued.

She recited the obligatory lines about the great wizard, the boundless pursuit of knowledge, and the sacred laws of humanity. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she reached the last statement of the long-winded oath.

As her words came to an end, thunderous applause echoed through the hall.

She glanced toward the four demons, but they had vanished.

Soon, Andreyan concluded the ceremony, and the students began dispersing, guided by their instructors. The new students were sorted into various classes, and Lucy found herself assigned to Class A, under Andreyan’s tutelage.

Class A

Located on the second floor, Class A’s classroom was nothing short of opulent. A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystal facets reflecting light over high-quality leather chairs and stepped desks. Ornate decorations filled the room—items that could easily fetch a fortune at a pawn shop.

It was evident that a lot of money had been poured into this place.

Oddly enough, tuition at Edem was remarkably cheap, making it accessible even to commoners. The reason behind its luxurious facilities was simple—this was a public institution funded by the royal family.

After the orientation, students settled into their assigned seats as per Andreyan’s instructions.

Lucy was fortunate enough to be seated by a window, where warm sunlight streamed in.

“Today is the first day, so let’s begin with introductions,” Andreyan announced.

As expected, the first class at the academy was a self-introduction session, much like in any other school.

One by one, the students in the first row stood up, proudly stating their names, family backgrounds, and reasons for enrolling at Edem.

Most were in their mid-teens, their bright eyes brimming with enthusiasm.

Lucy, however, paid them little attention. Yawning, she gazed out the window.

Before she knew it, it was her turn.

Feeling awkward under the weight of so many expectant gazes, she kept her introduction brief. “Lucy Deviluke. Nice to meet you all.”

It was by far the most lackluster introduction of the day.

Yet, strangely, the class erupted into applause.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

Lucy narrowed her eyes at the bizarre reaction.

Meanwhile, Andreyan, who had been checking attendance, left the room for a moment, stating that he needed to contact the absentees.

The moment he stepped out, the once-quiet classroom buzzed with chatter as students formed small cliques.

It was the usual classroom dynamic—the kind that had existed in schools for generations.

Lucy, however, remained detached, gazing out the window like an outsider.

With her mental maturity and worldview, she found it difficult to blend into the juvenile atmosphere.

Soon, a group of three girls approached her.

At the center was a blonde girl with her hair styled in an elegant bun.

With a refined gesture, she lifted the hem of her skirt and curtsied. “Greetings. I am Angelica Lee Genesis. It is an honor to be in the same class as you, Princess.”

Her demeanor was nothing short of aristocratic, her speech oozing with elegance.

Lucy, however, was unimpressed.

“You don’t need to be so formal,” she replied flatly. “We’re classmates, after all.”

“Oh, how gracious of you! Since fate has placed us together, I hope we can be friends, Princess!” Angelica beamed.

“You don’t have to call me ‘Princess.’”

Ignoring her words, Angelica gracefully seated herself beside Lucy and launched into a stream of flattery.

She praised Lucy’s high placement, her appearance, and even her lineage, speaking reverently about Satan himself.

It was clear that she wasn’t approaching Lucy out of pure goodwill. She was drawn to Lucy’s background, hoping to build a connection for personal gain.

Lucy, having dealt with such people countless times before, responded with detached indifference.

“What shampoo do you use?”

“I don’t know.”

“I heard that Satan—”

“Hmm.”

“What do you usually do on weekends?”

“Sleep.”

No matter what Angelica said, Lucy responded with short, disinterested replies, her eyes fixed on the distant scenery outside.

Yet, despite Lucy’s obvious disinterest, Angelica refused to back down.

Lucy sighed inwardly, already exhausted.

Lichberg Mansion

Sir Archibald, head of the Lichberg family and Minister of Finance, slammed his desk in frustration.

He was known for his gentle demeanor, but today, his face was clouded with fury.

The chaos had begun that morning.

His daughter, Abbet, had left for the academy’s entrance ceremony.

Everything had seemed normal—until an urgent letter arrived around lunchtime.

The academy had reported that Abbet had never arrived.

Alarmed, Archibald rushed back home, only to find that Abbet, along with the servants who had escorted her, had vanished without a trace.

Realizing something was terribly wrong, he mobilized the guards to investigate.

Hours passed with no news.

His worst fears were confirmed—Abbet had been kidnapped.

Slamming the table again, he demanded, “Have we received any ransom demands?”

His aide shook his head. “No letters, no demands—nothing.”

If this wasn’t about money, then what?

Just as dread settled into his bones, an eerie voice rang through the chamber.

“You don’t need to search so hard.”

The guards stiffened, their hands moving to their weapons—

But before they could react, blood sprayed through the air.

One by one, they collapsed, their throats slit by an invisible force.

Only Archibald and the Captain of the Guard remained.

From the shadows, figures emerged—men in black robes, nine in total.

The leader stepped forward, removing his hood. His long black hair framed an unnaturally pale face.

“Who are you?” Archibald demanded.

The man smirked. “My name is Douglas.”

“You kidnapped my daughter?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want?”

Douglas held up a dark, pulsating stone. “Place this at the heart of the royal palace. Do that, and your daughter lives.”