Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor

In a dress that had become more and more familiar to her over the past months, Margaret gave a soft twirl in front of the mirror. The fabric fluttered gently with her graceful movements.

“Oh, my… My daughter, you look absolutely gorgeous!”

Margaret beamed at her mother’s compliment. “Hehe~”

She walked over, letting her mother adjust the ribbon tied around her waist.

“Do you like it?” her mother asked, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

“I love it,” Margaret replied, her voice soft.

“I knew lavender would suit you. You’re your father’s daughter, after all.”

Margaret chuckled at that. “Are you saying Father looks good in dresses too?”

The two of them laughed, and for a moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

It was the kind of shared bond between mother and daughter that Margaret had longed for her entire life.

That being said, tonight was a monumental event.

Illenia had officially been recognized as part of the Four Empires, under the subsidiary of Aetherion. The achievement was made possible solely through Margaret Illenia’s merits in Aetherion’s Crusade Order.

In celebration, a grand banquet was to be held in Illenia.

Even the Emperor himself, Franz Barielle Aetherion, was expected to arrive.

And with that thought… Margaret couldn’t help but wonder.

Would Vanitas be there too?

More importantly… was Vanitas even in this world?

From what she’d managed to gather, the Astreas were a Viscount family, with Vanitas listed as its only known member.

That was the official record, at least. And strangely enough, there had been no mention of Charlotte.

That alone made her even more curious.

If he truly existed in this world, then Margaret wanted to see what kind of version of Vanitas he was.

* * *

“I’m really surprised, Grand Knight. Seeing you like this… you really were a princess.”

“Didn’t I tell you before?”

“Not really?”

Margaret smiled faintly as she walked alongside her fellow knights, members of the Illenia Crusade Order. Their eyes occasionally glanced at her with a mix of admiration and disbelief, still adjusting to the revelation.

Apparently, she hadn’t told any of them about her past.

But that didn’t matter.

There was no past worth speaking of anymore in the first place.

Margaret, clad in lavender, walked in heels, bearing the title of a knight and the poise of one of Aetherion’s official nobility, speaking with nobles who now regarded her not only as a Grand Knight of Aetherion’s Crusade Order, but as Illenia’s princess.

To put things into perspective, Illenia’s standing now was comparable to that of a Duke Family in Aetherion.

“Princess Margaret,” a diplomat greeted, bowing low. “To see you stand among us again is a gift we could not have imagined.”

She returned the gesture with a slight nod. “Please, Grand Knight will suffice, Sir Raymond. I’m not used to you addressing me with all this… formality.”

Raymond chuckled lightly, brushing a hand against the medals on his chest. He straightened but gave her a knowing smile.

To put things into perspective, Sir Raymond was one of the official diplomats Margaret had frequently crossed paths with during missions in her other life.

From a distance, Margaret spotted her father conversing with Emperor Franz. Even in this reality, Franz still held the title of Emperor.

“….?”

She paused as she met eyes with her father and beckoned her over with a warm smile. Returning the gesture, she made her way toward them.

“I’m not sure if you’ve met before, Lord Franz,” her father began, “but this is Margaret, my daughter.”

“Of course I’ve met her,” Franz replied with a light chuckle. “How could I not? Margaret is an exemplary individual, establishing and officiating her Order at the age of twenty-three.”

“My, is that so?” her father mused. “I had no idea!”

“….?”

Margaret blinked. That detail wasn’t quite right.

While it was true that her Order had been established when she was twenty-three, it hadn’t been officially officiated until six years later. But it seemed that wasn’t the case here.

Perhaps the Margaret who had lived here… was more competent as a Grand Knight than she had been.

The evening flowed seamlessly. Margaret mingled through the banquet, speaking with nobles from Aetherion and reconnecting with familiar faces from Illenia she hadn’t yet had the chance to properly greet in these past few months.

Yet, as her eyes glanced around the grand hall, there was still no sign of Vanitas.

‘Figures…’

He held the rank of Viscount now. Of course, he wouldn’t have received an invitation to a political banquet of this scale.

“Are you looking for someone, my lady?” a nobleman asked, approaching her with a polite smile.

“Ah, yes,” Margaret replied with a light nod. “But it seems they aren’t here.”

“I see. Then… if I may be so bold, would it be acceptable if I asked to accompany you for the rest of the evening?”

“Ah…” Margaret blinked at the request, slightly caught off guard.

The nobleman was courteous, well-groomed, and had the confidence typical of Aetherion’s upper class. His approach wasn’t particularly aggressive, but the formal tone made it clear this wasn’t just for the sake of conversation.

“My apologies,” Margaret said with a polite smile. “But I must decline.”

The nobleman didn’t seem offended. Instead, he offered a respectful nod.

“Understandable. Should you change your mind, I shall be nearby.”

With that, he stepped away, leaving Margaret alone once more near the edge of the ballroom.

“Vanitas…” she murmured under her breath.

She didn’t quite know why she was looking for him. Perhaps it was because, in her original life, he had been the reason her life had changed for the better.

And perhaps, even if it was another version of him, she still wanted to express her sincere gratitude.

With that thought in mind, Margaret approached Franz once more.

He noticed her coming and smiled. “How may I help you, my lady?”

“My lord,” she began, “if I may ask… do you know the Astreas?”

Franz looked puzzled at first. “The Astreas…?”

There was a moment of silence before his eyes lit up slightly in recognition.

“Ah, the Astrea Viscount Family. Yes, I do. What about them?”

“If possible, may I request an audience with them?”

Franz tilted his head and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “An audience, hmm? That would prove rather… difficult.”

“P-Pardon?” Margaret muttered instinctively, before catching herself.

“It’s better if you see it for yourself.”

“I—I mean, yes, that’s fine,” she quickly corrected. “I’m not expecting anything. I just… I’d like to speak with him. Even briefly.”

Franz gave a warm chuckle. “If it’s a request from Illenia’s beloved princess, how could I possibly refuse? But—”

Margaret bowed slightly. “Thank you. Truly.”

Just then, her father and mother approached, curious.

“What’s this about?” her father asked, his arm gently brushing against her mother’s.

“It seems one of our noblemen has caught the eye of our beloved princess, but the problem is—” Franz began, but was cut off briefly.

“Oh, my.”

“A–ah?” Margaret blinked, flustered. Of course, even here, Franz was always quick to tease. He was like that with Vanitas, so was he here.

“A nobleman, you say?” her father asked, intrigued. “Is he here at the banquet?”

“Unfortunately not,” Franz replied. “There’s been issues in Aetherion I’m not suppose to divulge at the moment.”

“Issues—”

“Margaret?” Her father turned toward her, cutting her off, a hint of surprise in his expression. Her mother, on the other hand, wore a sly smile, clearly itching to tease her.

“It’s n–nothing like that,” Margaret stammered. “He’s just someone I’m… grateful to. During my time in Aetherion.”

“I see,” her father murmured, tilting his head as he studied her more closely. “If that’s the case, then I must meet this person myself and offer my gratitude. What’s his name?”

Margaret hesitated, her throat tightening for a moment. Then, softly, she answered.

“….Vanitas Astrea.”

It was then.

A snapping sound echoed.

Boom———!

Accompanied by an explosion that tore through the banquet hall.

A shockwave rippled outward as flames erupted across the room, devouring everything in their path.

Nobles were reduced to ash before they could even react. Screams didn’t have time to form. The entire hall was engulfed in a sea of flames.

But Margaret, ever the seasoned knight, moved instantly. Her aura flared as she reached for her parents, extending her arms in a desperate bid to shield them.

Yet her hands grasped only empty air.

“….!”

The fire took them first.

“….”

And then, it swallowed her whole.

A flash of white light seared the edge of her vision. Her lungs felt as though the air had been ripped from them.

“Haaa…!”

She jolted upright while gasping, drenched in sweat. Her breath came in sharp pants. Her throat burned as if she’d inhaled smoke.

“My lady? What’s wrong?”

The soft voice drew her gaze. Standing near the closet was an attendant, folding her clothes neatly and placing them on the shelf.

Margaret blinked rapidly, eyes scanning the familiar room. It was her quarters. The same room she’d been staying in these past few months.

“….”

Was she… back?

Or had she woken up?

Which one was the dream?

This? That? Both?

She forced herself to calm her racing thoughts. Her surroundings told her she was still in Illenia. Still in her paradise.

That was good.

If that was true… what the hell was that?

“My lady,” the attendant said again, holding up a lavender dress. “Here’s the dress you ordered. Would you like to try it on?”

“Huh?”

Her gaze dropped to the garment in the girl’s hands.

It was the same one from the banquet.

The exact same dress.

Then, had the banquet not happened yet?

Did that mean the explosion… hadn’t occurred?

Or worse… was it still bound to happen?

* * *

The same banquet. The same setting. The same people. The same interactions. The same words exchanged. The same food. The same atmosphere.

It was all unfolding exactly as it had in the dream.

“Are you alright, dear? You seem a little out of it,” her mother asked, concerned.

“Ah… no, it’s just… I’m not feeling so well,” Margaret murmured, trying her best to sound composed despite the tension building in her chest.

“Is that so? Do you want to excuse yourself early?”

“N-no, it’s fine. Just… a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”

Her mother reached over and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “I expected you’d be happy, seeing so many familiar faces.”

“….Yes.”

Margaret gave a weak smile.

It was true. Only important people had been invited tonight. Yet, out of consideration for her, her entire Crusade Order had been invited as well. They were at the far end of the hall, dressed in formal uniforms, chatting among the nobility like they belonged.

It should have been perfect.

But it wasn’t.

Because she had seen this before.

The unease inside her wouldn’t settle. Her mind replayed whatever that had been this morning.

The fire, the screaming, the smell of ash.

Her fingers curled slightly around her goblet.

Was she going mad?

Or had something interfered?

“Margaret?”

“….”

She blinked and turned to her father, who was approaching with a glass of wine and a warm smile.

“Yes, Father?”

He handed her the glass. “You’ve earned this. Take pride in what you’ve accomplished. We’re all proud of you.”

Margaret accepted the wine and gave a polite nod, but her eyes wandered again. To the doors, the chandeliers, the floors. Every movement made her heart skip.

After a moment, she set the glass down on the nearest tray.

“I’ll be right back,” she said to her parents, excusing herself with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Without waiting for their reply, she turned and walked away from the main crowd, moving carefully through clusters of nobles and attendants.

She needed to confirm it. If the layout, the timing, the people… if everything truly mirrored what she had seen.

She moved toward the western corridor where, in what she remembered, the explosion had first originated.

The walls were lined with tall windows, draped in curtains, just like before. The same floral arrangements. The same guards stationed nearby.

“….”

Her breath caught when she spotted a servant standing too still in the shadows of the hall.

He was holding a tray, yet not offering it.

Margaret narrowed her eyes.

She approached slowly. “Excuse me. Are you—”

Snap——!

With just that single snap, an explosion resounded through the air.

A massive explosion rocked the banquet hall.

Margaret’s eyes flew open in horror. She turned on instinct, but the blast hadn’t come from where she stood this time.

It came from the southern corridor.

“No…!”

Flames surged again, searing through her vision, engulfing the walls, the hall, everything in its path. Screams were drowned beneath the roar of fire.

And just like before….

“Haaa…!”

She shot up, gasping for breath.

Blinking her eyes rapidly, her chest heaved, soaked in cold sweat.

She was back in her bed again.

“…..”

There was no other way Margaret could comprehend what was happening.

Except one.

“…A loop.”

Margaret Illenia was trapped, reliving the same events over and over again on the day of the banquet.

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