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The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master Chapter 203 – Succession Ceremony (5)

Chapter 203 – Succession Ceremony (5)

For‍​ me, staying out‌ of the public‍​‍ eye had always‍ mattered more than⁠‍ any personal ambition.⁠​⁠

I just wanted a peaceful life, doing​‌ what I enjoyed,​‍‌ without anyone bothering‌‌ me.

But‌ this overwhelming power⁠‍ didn’t seem willing⁠ to let me‍⁠​ live simply.

The​⁠⁠ proof was in⁠ the crown they‌⁠ were trying to​ place on my⁠‌‌ head—a crown too‌‌ heavy for someone‍ who had always‍ rejected ambition and‌‍⁠ desire.

A spacious dressing room,​ with mirrors lined‌ up like folding‌⁠⁠ screens.

“Oh,⁠​​ our Geom-Ma! Maybe​‍​ it’s that imposing⁠‍ height of yours,‍‌⁠ but anything you⁠⁠‍ wear looks spectacular.”​

Media​ examined me from‌​‌ every angle with⁠​ meticulous attention. Then⁠⁠‌ she rubbed wax⁠‌‌ between her hands‌ and applied it​‌‍ to my hair.‍‌

A cheerful smile naturally​‌ formed on her‌ lips.

“With‍ this sleek hairstyle…​⁠​ don’t you look⁠ like a frustrated​​‍ idol?”

I was abruptly reminded​​ that the Sage​‌‍ Media was incapable‍​ of lying.

‘And‍​⁠ what’s a frustrated​​‌ idol even supposed‍‍​ to look like?’​‌‍

Was​ it a compliment…​ or not? A strange, ambiguous comparison.⁠

Media‌‌‍ moved closer and‍‌⁠ farther, making sure⁠ not a single‌‍ fold was out⁠⁠ of place. If‌⁠​ she found one,‍‍‌ she crouched to​​ smooth it and‌‌‌ then checked again.‍

She‍ repeated that process​​⁠ for two hours.⁠‍ For those two‌‍ hours, I was⁠ her mannequin.

“How’s‍‍⁠ the length of​‍​ the pants? Are⁠‍​ they okay? If‍​ they’re too short,‌ they’ll bunch up⁠⁠⁠ in the crotch⁠‍ when you walk—and⁠⁠ that’s a pain.”​‍

She​⁠ asked while folding‌‌ the hem of‌ my pants on‌⁠ her knees. In​‍‌ the mirror, the⁠ scene looked dangerously‍⁠ suggestive.

“I-it’s⁠‍ fine.”

“If​‌ you say so,‍‌ I’ll believe you.‍ But if you’re⁠‌ just saying it‍‌‍ out of embarrassment,⁠‍‌ that’s not okay.‌ Imagine being uncomfortable​‍ in front of‌ tens of thousands‍ of people.”

“I⁠⁠ really am fine.”​‌⁠

Media‌ genuinely seemed concerned.‍​ I waved my‍‍ hand to show‍‌ her everything was‍ okay.

‘Why‌​ is Media even‍‌​ helping me get‌‌ dressed in the‍ first place?’

It⁠ felt like a young aunt taking​ her nephew shopping​‌ at the mall.​⁠‍

The​⁠‌ problem was that⁠​‍ this “aunt” looked‌ far too young​​‌ despite being nearly⁠​‍ seventy.

Though‍ I tried not​ to judge by​ appearances, Media’s beauty​​‍ was lethal to‌ any man.

‘Damn​⁠ it. It’s not‌ fair that someone​ who looks like‌​ that is almost​‌ seventy.’

As‌ I thought that,​ the dressing room​ door opened.

“How​‌⁠ can it take‌‍ two hours to⁠‌⁠ dress one person?”‌

The‍‍‍ one who entered⁠ was the Swordmaster.⁠⁠ He wore the⁠⁠ same uniform as‌​​ Media and me,‌​⁠ but with a white cloak draped‍⁠ over his shoulders.⁠‍

“There⁠‍ are only two⁠ hours left before​ the succession ceremony‌​‍ begins, Media. And​ we still have‌ other tasks to​ complete.”

“Which‍‌‍ is exactly why‌‌​ we need to‌ spend more time⁠ getting him ready.‍​ In two hours,‍​​ our Geom-Ma has​‌ to look like‌‌ the most handsome‍ man in the⁠​‌ world.”

Media​‍ spoke with her⁠⁠​ hands on her‌‍‍ hips. The Swordmaster‍ rubbed his forehead.‍​

“Dignitaries​⁠‌ from around the​​ world are waiting‌ outside right now.‌​⁠ Geom-Ma has an⁠ obligation to make‌ at least one‍​‌ appearance before the‍⁠⁠ ceremony.”

“Then‍‌ let them wait⁠⁠ one more hour.”‌​

“Thirty‌‌‍ minutes. Not a second more.”

The‌​‌ Swordmaster looked at​​‍ me. He scanned⁠​‍ me from head‍⁠⁠ to toe as‍​ if evaluating my‍ overall condition.

In‍ that moment, the​‍ weariness etched into‍⁠⁠ his wrinkles seemed⁠⁠​ to vanish.

“How‍ are you feeling?”⁠‍

“To‍⁠‍ be honest… I still can’t believe⁠‌⁠ it. It feels‍‍ like a dream.”‍‌

“I⁠​ understand. That’s how‍​‌ I felt 40⁠ years ago. This​‍ very suit was‌⁠ given to me‌​ back then.”

The⁠‌‌ Swordmaster turned slightly,⁠⁠ showing me his‌‌ white cloak, embroidered​ in gold thread‍⁠‌ with two large​ characters, 劍帝 (Swordmaster).‌⁠​

“White​​‌ symbolizes purity. Gold,⁠​ splendor. Together, they‌ represent the title⁠‌‍ of a hero.‍‌‌ Yours is being‍⁠‌ brought by Mura—it⁠‌ should arrive any⁠ moment.”

Right—I‌‍‍ still didn’t know​ what my official‌‌​ title would be.⁠

Rumor​⁠⁠ had it that⁠ Chief Sung had‌ created it personally.⁠‍⁠

When​‍ I asked him‌‍ by message, he‌ said it was⁠​⁠ “Classified Level 1.”⁠

He‌ only added that‌‌​ it “might move‌⁠‍ me.”

At​ the time, exhausted,​‌ I didn’t think​ much of it.‌‌ But now that‍‌ the day had‌‌ arrived, I was​‍ burning with curiosity…‍‌⁠ and anxiety.
According‌‍​ to the Swordmaster,‍‍ the character “검”​ (sword) had to‍ be included.

The‍ problem was, that​ severely limited the‌⁠​ options.

“Sword”‍​ is the most‌ common weapon, so‌​ titles using that‍⁠ character were already‍‌ saturated—Swordmaster, Sword King,‍‌ Sword Emperor, Sword​⁠ Phantom.

What​ name could Sung‌ have come up‍ with in such‍ a restricted range?⁠​⁠

The‌‍ title had to‌‍​ be only two‌ characters, so “Sashimi​ Saint” was out.‌​ And using my‌⁠ real name, Geom-Ma?⁠‌⁠ No way… right?‍‍

If​⁠‌ it was, the‌ first thing I’d‍‍‍ do as a new Hero was‍‌​ pay a visit‍ to Chief Sung⁠‍​ in the hospital.​

Come⁠ on, not even⁠​ taking the wrong​ meds would make​‌ someone come up‍‍ with something that⁠​⁠ absurd.

A new Hero with​​ the name “Sword‍‌‍ Demon”?

Inspiring,⁠ sure—just not if‌ it was my‍ nickname.

“……”​‌

Suddenly,‍⁠ I felt a bit stifled. Maybe‍‌ the tailored uniform‌ was just too‌‌‌ tight.

I took a deep⁠⁠ breath and watched‍⁠ the exchange between‌‌ Media and the‍‌​ Swordmaster.

In⁠‌​ the end, the​⁠ Swordmaster won the‌ argument.

Media’s‍ personal wishes weren’t‍​‍ enough to overrule⁠⁠ the old man’s‌ logic.

“Ahem.”​‌‍

About‌‍ to smile in‍ victory, the Swordmaster‌‍ covered his mouth⁠ with his fist‍‍⁠ and cleared his​‌ throat.

Media​ glared at him​‌⁠ while biting her​​‍ thumb. Clearly, she⁠​ was worried about⁠⁠ retaliation.

“Alright,‍ let’s go. There‌‌​ are a lot​ of people waiting.​⁠ The white cloak‍⁠ will arrive right⁠‌‌ before the ceremony,​ so for now,​ go out in‍‌ just your uniform.”​⁠​

The⁠⁠⁠ Swordmaster marched ahead.‍⁠
Media‌​‍ and I followed.​‍

Just​‌⁠ before opening the​​ door, he stopped⁠‍ abruptly. He turned⁠⁠⁠ slowly and looked‍‍ me in the⁠ eye.

His⁠​‌ gaze, which always⁠‍ felt above mine,‌ now felt lower,‍​​ more personal.

“You’ve‍ got a bit‌​ of dust on‍ your shoulder.”

He‍‍ said, brushing off​​ my uniform.

Though,​ honestly, Media had​ already smoothed everything.‍​ There wasn’t a speck.

“It⁠ feels like just‌‍ yesterday when I first saw you—and​​ look at you​‍⁠ now.”

“That’s​ right.”

“Just‍‌ one piece of‍‍‍ advice. Beyond this⁠‌‍ door, there are​​ people with daggers‍⁠​ in their hearts.​‌ They’ll pretend to⁠‌​ support you, but​ the moment they​​‌ get a chance,⁠ they’ll try to​‌‌ stab you in⁠‌‌ the back.”

“I⁠ understand.”

“After‍⁠ I hand you​ the title, I won’t be able‌ to help you‌​‍ like before. I’ll⁠‍‍ just be a retired old man.​ From now on,​‌ you’ll have to‍⁠ make your own‌⁠‍ way.
Media⁠‌‌ will be by⁠ your side, of‌ course, but in‌ the end, you’ll⁠‍​ have to prove‍ your worth yourself.‍⁠⁠ Do you understand⁠‍‌ what I’m saying?”​

His​‌ hand, brushing off​⁠‌ imaginary dust, stopped⁠‌ and rested firmly⁠‌‌ on my shoulder.‌

That‍⁠ heavy gaze fell‍ on me.
I scratched my forehead.⁠ I couldn’t find⁠​​ the right words.⁠ So I simply⁠ nodded silently.

The​‌ Swordmaster’s smile deepened.​⁠

“Yeah…‌⁠ men are measured‍ more by what‌​‌ they hold back‍⁠‌ than by what‍​ they say. Seems‌​ like I’m the‍‌ only one getting​​ sentimental. You’re calm⁠ as ever.”

He‌⁠ withdrew his hand⁠‌‍ and grasped the‌​ door handle. He‍ pushed it open​‌‌ forcefully.

Light‌ from the other‍‍⁠ side spilled in‌ with a creak.​‍

Creak—​⁠

What⁠ had been just⁠​ a sliver now⁠ became a full‍​ stage.

There‍ they were—those who‌ had been waiting.⁠​

I could see clearly‌​ that they were​​‌ nobles and high-ranking‍⁠ officials.

High-level⁠ representatives from all​ over the world,⁠ gathered in one⁠ place.

They​⁠‍ were so engrossed​⁠⁠ in their conversations​ that they didn’t‍⁠ notice the door‌ had opened.

The‌‍‍ only one who⁠ noticed was the‌ president of Switzerland,⁠⁠ Gaines, who had⁠ been watching the⁠ entrance.

Gaines​‍​ raised his hand‌‍ as if to‌​⁠ greet me. But‍⁠‌ he didn’t wave.‍

Instead,⁠​‍ he placed it⁠ over his chest,⁠⁠ near his heart,​⁠ and said my‌​ name.

“Mr.⁠​⁠ Geom-Ma.”

The​⁠‍ murmuring that had​⁠ filled the hall‍ faded.

Dozens‌ of eyes focused‌ on me at​ once.

The‌​⁠ hall, filled with⁠​ political monsters, stared​‍ at me with⁠‍ sharp, gleaming eyes.‌

Gaines⁠ spoke again.

“I,‌‌​ Gaines, greet the‍‍ new Hero of⁠⁠ the Seven Stars.”​‌

Gaines​‍‌ bowed deeply. His‌​‌ gesture took everyone⁠ by surprise.

The⁠‌ others looked around⁠‌​ nervously, unsure what‌⁠ to do.

Their⁠‍‍ eyes darted anxiously,⁠‌ seeking approval from⁠⁠ one another.

It‌ was like they‍⁠‌ were waiting for‍⁠‌ someone to break‌⁠‌ the silence.

“From‌‌​ the Iron Family,‌ Mao Lang sincerely​ congratulates Mr. Geom-Ma‍‌ on his ascension‍‌​ as the new⁠‍ Hero of the‍⁠ Seven Stars.”

Everyone’s​‍‌ attention immediately shifted‌‌ to her.

She‌‌‍ was met with​ looks of confusion‌‌ and astonishment.

But‌ Mao Lang was⁠‍ unfazed.
She‌ bowed gracefully, lifting‍⁠ her skirt slightly⁠‍⁠ in a noble‍⁠⁠ gesture.

Beside​‍​ her, All Mute⁠‌‌ Khan Elizabeth raised‌‍‍ her arm in‌​​ a formal salute.⁠​⁠

The‌⁠ straight line of⁠‍⁠ her hand, precisely‌​ at eyebrow level,⁠‌‍ was flawless.

“On‌‍​ behalf of the‍‍ United States, I,‍ Khan Elizabeth, extend⁠​‍ my congratulations.”

The‌‍ murmur returned to‌ the hall.
The​‌​ politicians began sweating,‍ foreheads beaded with‌‌ cold sweat.

Their‍‌ eyes rolled like‌⁠ marbles without direction.⁠​​

The‌‍‍ unspoken pact between‍⁠​ them had been​​ broken.

A young man bit​‍‍ his lip gently.⁠ He closed his⁠‍‍ eyes tightly and‍ finally spoke.

“I‍ am Beharn, eldest⁠ son of the‌⁠ Orland family. May‌‍ glory accompany the​‍ new Hero of‌​ the Seven Stars.”⁠​⁠

“……!”⁠​‍

That‌ noble youth, surrendering‍⁠‌ his pride, created‍⁠ a new current⁠‌⁠ in the room.​‌‌

And‍ as if waiting‍‌⁠ for that moment,‍‍​ they began introducing‍‍‍ themselves one by‍ one.

“I‍ am Toyoyev Kurin,⁠‌‍ Prime Minister of‍‌‌ Russia. Russia promises‍‌‌ full cooperation to⁠​ Mr. Geom-Ma.”

“I-I⁠​ am the second⁠⁠ daughter of the​⁠‌ Buona family from‌‌ Italy. We too…”⁠⁠

One​⁠ after another, they‌ all began to‍‌ speak.

At‍​ that point, they‍‍‍ preferred to swallow​ their pride rather​ than stand out​ for their indifference.⁠​

As​​‌ I watched in‍ silence, the Swordmaster⁠​‌ murmured beside me.‌​‌

“So,‍​ how do you​ feel now?”

“……”⁠⁠

Before​‍‍ answering, I glanced​‍ once more at​‍⁠ everyone present.

And‍⁠‌ sincerely, I replied.​​

“Not‍‌‌ bad at all.”‍‍

***‌‍‌

…After​​‌ nearly two hours⁠ of introductions alone‌​ had passed.

Thump,⁠⁠ thump.

A rumble, like a synchronized stampede, shook‍‍‌ the marble floor.‌ At the faint‍ vibrations, the Swordmaster‍⁠ furrowed his brow.​​​

“At‍‌‍ least he’s punctual.⁠​⁠ Exactly five minutes​‍‍ before the ceremony⁠ begins.”

Changseong‌ pushed his way‌ through the crowd,‍⁠ shoulders first.

Those​ who collided with‌‌ him hit the​ ground without mercy,⁠​ and even those‍‌ he merely brushed‍‍‍ aside were sent⁠ flying several meters.‍⁠

Still,‌‍‍ not a single⁠‍⁠ complaint was heard.​​‌

After‍​ all, anyone who‌ dared raise their‍​ voice at that⁠⁠⁠ monster in human​​ form would likely‍​​ lose their teeth.​‌⁠

Baring⁠ his teeth like​​​ a bandit, Changseong‌⁠ spoke.

“Kuhahaha!‌ Isn’t just being‍ on time enough?‌‍ Don’t be such‌‌​ a sourpuss, Nibelung.”⁠‍⁠

“You‍ brought the most⁠‌ important thing, didn’t⁠​‌ you?”

“Of‌‍​ course.”

Changseong⁠ stopped in front‍ of me.

With‌ a satisfied grin,⁠‍ he handed me​‌‍ the white bundle⁠ he held in​ his hand.

“Your‍ white cloak. It‍‌​ might sound like‍‍ boss pride, but‌​‌ Chief Sung really⁠ poured his heart⁠​ into this. Once‌‌ you read the‌​‌ inscription, I guarantee⁠⁠ you’ll be surprised.”​‍

I received the white‍ cloak with a tense expression.

The​‍ rough fabric felt‌⁠‌ coarse against my‌ palms.

I swallowed and unfolded‌​​ it carefully, nervous‌‍ about what might⁠ be embroidered on‌​ it.

“Ah…”⁠⁠​

My‍‍​ eyes, full of‍ disbelief, locked onto⁠⁠ the two large‍‌‍ characters stitched into​​ the fabric.

Media,‍‌​ standing beside me,‌‍‍ chimed in.

“Wow!‌ This is amazing!⁠‍ Isn’t it? Someone‍ like our Geom-Ma⁠ needed a title⁠⁠⁠ like this. What‌⁠​ do you think,‍ Sieg?”

“It’s‌‍ fine.”

“Don’t‍‌ say ‘it’s fine’​⁠‍ with that grumpy‍‍ face. Be honest.‍​‍ You’re jealous because‌‌ the title is‌‍⁠ too cool, right?”⁠

“You‌‍ think so little⁠ of me?”

“Yes.”⁠‌​

“……”‌

The‍​ Swordmaster sighed deeply.​⁠‌ Just then, Saki‍​​ Kojima also entered⁠​ the hall.

“It’s​‌ time. Everyone, bow.”⁠‌​

At‌ a small nod⁠ from the Swordmaster,​ the crowd stepped⁠⁠⁠ aside to open‍ a path.

They​‌ were all nobles‌ or high-ranking officials.​​‍

Boom,‌⁠ boom.

The‌‌‌ drums from outside⁠‍ pounded their way‍​⁠ indoors.

For‌ a moment, they‍ sounded like a heartbeat.

The‌​ Swordmaster stepped back⁠‌‌ and placed the‌‌‌ white cloak on​⁠ my shoulders.

The‌‍ weight of the‌​‌ epaulets exerted a subtle but firm⁠⁠ pressure.

All‌‍ eyes turned to‌⁠ me—not to those⁠​ behind me, but‍⁠ to me alone.​

The​‍‌ Swordmaster spoke.

“Lead‍‍‌ the march.”

His​⁠​ voice, soft but‍‌‌ resolute, echoed once​⁠ more through the‌‌‍ silence.

“We’ll‍ follow you.”

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