My Adorable Daughter Can't Be A Villainess - Chapter 27 - Injured

[A few minutes ago]

Eric was on his way to the Headmaster’s office, accompanied by a fellow instructor whose name he remembered as Sedric.

If not for the headmaster’s summons, Eric would never have left Charlotte alone in such an unfamiliar place.

While he knew Charlotte was not a naive girl and could handle herself fairly well, this academy had no shortage of noble brats who enjoyed picking on those they deemed beneath them.

Knock.

Reaching the black door bearing the nameplate Twilight, Eric knocked once. A soft click followed as the door opened.

Inside, several instructors stood on either side of the room.

As Eric entered, they all turned toward him and gave a brief nod.

Eric frowned as his gaze settled on the man seated behind the desk.

Crisp golden hair was neatly combed back, and a monocle covered his dark green eye.

He was one of the strongest sorcerers in existence, and the only person known to have survived a battle against an Echo.

Richard Twilight.

“Headmaster?” Eric asked, sensing the tension in the room. “What is the matter?”

The older man sighed. “The assessment papers were leaked, Sir Eric. Professor Murray was responsible for setting the questions for the upcoming enrollment, and he leaked them.”

Eric’s frown deepened. “Professor Murray is one of the most respected teachers in Obsidian. He joined long before any of us.”

Sedric spoke up. “That’s why none of us could believe he would do something so terrible.”

Eric turned back to the headmaster as Richard said calmly, “Reputation and loyalty mean nothing when you are facing someone you cannot refuse.”

Eric blinked a few times before realization struck. “His grandchild.”

Now he remembered.

Murray’s granddaughter was one of the heroines, someone who would enroll in the academy a year later than expected.

Why?

Because Murray would take his own life in shame after being exposed. And the one the girl would blame was Eric.

It sounded ridiculous, but that was how it unfolded.

“So,” Richard continued, “we have decided that the written assessment will now be under your command, Sir Eric.”

Eric had expected this. There had always been debate over who should handle the written exams. In the end, the task had remained with Murray, as it always had. With retirement approaching, Richard had not wanted to strip him of his role.

But circumstances had changed.

Eric remained silent for a moment before asking, “Where is Professor Murray now?”

The security chief, a man with a shaved head standing nearby, answered, “He is on his way to the capital to hear the judgment.”

Eric sighed inwardly. It was inevitable. Murray’s end, and a young girl scarred for life.

Richard spoke again. “Will you need assistance with this, Sir Eric? I trust your abilities, but you have never overseen this before.”

Eric shook his head. “I’ll manage. I only need Professor Murray’s old drafts.”

Richard nodded. “We expect a proper assessment submitted by the end of this week.”

…

Eric left the office soon after, his shoulders feeling heavier from the responsibility placed upon him.

As a professor, such duties were expected. It was not a burden, but an obligation.

And Eric could not afford to take it lightly.

He was Eric Blackwood, revered for the depth of his knowledge.

This had to start somewhere, he thought as he made his way toward the cafeteria, where he had told Charlotte to wait for him.

His presence immediately drew attention. Several students stood to greet him, but Eric paid them no mind. His eyes scanned the hall, searching for the girl he had come with.

In a far corner, he spotted a silver-haired figure sitting alone, repeatedly wiping something off her dress.

Eric’s eyes darkened as he approached.

Her fingers were red. Dark marks stained her dress. Her hair was no longer braided.

“Charlotte?” he called out softly.

The silver-haired girl jolted and looked up, a smile quickly forming. “Uncle Eric,” she said as she stood. “Are you done with your work?”

Eric did not answer right away. His eyes carefully assessed her condition.

It took only a moment for him to realize the truth.

“Someone hurt you.”

Charlotte stiffened before shaking her head. “It’s nothing.”

Eric frowned at how easily she brushed it off.

Then his gaze caught something that made his chest tighten.

The back of her head.

He raised his hand and gently touched the spot.

Blood.

He inhaled sharply. “Charlotte… who did this?”

He had spent enough time with her to know she would never pick a fight without reason.

Charlotte stood silently, her head lowered.

Eric did not wait any longer.

Holding her hand, he guided her to the center of the cafeteria.

“Students,” he said. His voice was calm, yet it carried to every corner of the hall, drawing everyone’s attention. “This girl was assaulted moments ago. Whoever is responsible, or whoever knows who did it, step forward now. You have one minute. If you do not, the consequences will be far worse than you can imagine.”

His words swept through the hall like a freezing wind. Students glanced at one another nervously.

Many wondered what kind of relationship this girl had with him, for the normally calm and reserved professor now radiated an oppressive presence.

Even the other instructors in the cafeteria whispered among themselves, uncertain whether they should intervene.

Then, a boy stepped forward.

Small and lanky, with pitch-black hair.

For a moment, Eric forgot how to breathe.

Because standing before him was none other than the protagonist of this story.

“I know who did this.”

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