From Master Assassin to a Random Extra: OP in a Dating Sim
Chapter 66: The Trial of Pairs

Chapter 66: The Trial of Pairs

"Anyways, let’s get—" Marcus began, only to be cut off as a brilliant rune flared to life beneath his feet, swiftly engulfing him in a flash of radiant light. Similar sigils bloomed all across the restaurant, illuminating the space in an intricate weave of magical symbols. In an instant, every student present shimmered out of existence, pulled from their seats mid-sentence, mid-sip, mid-laugh.

The restaurant staff didn’t even flinch.

They were used to this.

"School recall spell," a waitress muttered, already stacking empty glasses. "Again."

A veteran chef leaned out from the kitchen, peering at the now-deserted dining room, his arms crossed and brows raised. "I wonder how that feels..." he mused aloud, stepping further out to examine the aftermath—half-eaten meals, steaming bowls, and untouched desserts abandoned mid-meal.

One of the waiters chuckled, unbothered, wiping a table down with well-practiced rhythm. "Magic academies and their complex services... Not like us common folk who went to good old regular schools, huh?"

The chef gave a long, dry sigh before retreating back into the kitchen. "Just don’t let anyone hear you say that," he warned under his breath. "Unless you want to be barbecued by some entitled fire-element brat."

Meanwhile, Marcus and the other students rematerialized with a sharp whoosh of compressed air, blinking against the sudden shift in scenery. The cozy restaurant was gone—replaced by the crisp bite of mountain air and the soft rustle of wind through trees.

They now stood at the edge of a lush forest clearing, far beyond the academy’s walls—perhaps even outside the city’s protective bounds. The sky stretched wide and open above, clouds drifting lazily past the distant peaks. At the far end of the clearing loomed a shadowy cave, nestled into the side of a mountain. Its mouth was yawning, dark, and unmistakably foreboding.

Standing beside the cave was a lone figure—a professor, though not one many were familiar with. He was visually striking, to say the least. A man with long, flowing pink hair that cascaded down his back like a waterfall of cherry blossoms, and a sleek black blindfold wrapped tightly over his eyes. His expression was unreadable. He stood perfectly still as the rest of the faculty lined up to oversee the latest round of reassessments.

Leon was the first to break the silence, raising a hand sharply. "Why have you brought us here?" he asked, his voice calm but firm, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

The blindfolded professor finally moved.

With a flick of his wrist, a long, ornate staff appeared in his hand, materializing from swirling particles of light. He brought it down with a solid crack against the grass-covered earth. The impact rippled outward in a subtle wave of pressure, distorting the air like heat over stone.

"Call me Professor Trearch," he said, voice smooth, cultured—and laced with subtle disdain. "I’ll make this quick. Whoever gets to the end of this dungeon passes. That is all."

A murmur swept through the students.

Just then, a golden ray of sunlight pierced through the canopy above, spotlighting Leon in radiant brilliance. His hair gleamed, his robes fluttered slightly in the breeze, and he somehow looked even more immaculate than usual.

What a bastard...

Marcus thought with a twitch of a smile, crouching beside the grass to inspect the nearby foliage. Several medicinal herbs grew nearby, likely wild strains—Marcus plucked a few sprigs with interest, crushing them between his fingers, and tasting a tiny bit. His magic immediately filtered out any toxins, letting him identify and catalog the plant safely.

"The academy’s been pushing practicals lately," Leon muttered, crossing his arms. "We weren’t—"

But his voice abruptly ceased.

His lips still moved, but no sound came out.

Trearch placed a single finger to his own lips and shushed him with exaggerated silence, his blindfolded gaze unmoving. With nothing more than that simple gesture, Leon’s speech had been stolen from him.

"Those old academic standards won’t do for students as prestigious as all of you," Trearch sneered. "I’m sure your rich parents have already stocked your rooms with enough grimoires to rival a national archive."

A dry, almost venomous chuckle slipped from him.

"So instead of boring theory and tests..." He raised his staff again and pointed it directly at the now visibly enchanted cave. "...we specialized the curriculum."

He laughed once more, louder this time. "Why waste time reading spells when you can bleed your way to enlightenment? Danger’s the best teacher, wouldn’t you agree?"

He lowered the staff with a flourish, the cave pulsing faintly in response.

"Enough talk," he snapped. "I won’t elaborate further. Who dares to enter first?"

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added with mock sweetness, "And don’t worry. I’ll save anyone who’s too close to death. As much as I hate all you spoiled brats, I’m rather fond of my job. Wouldn’t want to lose my license."

He jabbed his staff into the ground again. This time, the magic stirred the very grass beneath their feet. Blades of grass shimmered and floated into the air, taking on new hues as they fluttered like feathers, drifting toward each student.

Each strand wrapped itself around a student’s wrist like a glowing bracelet—each pair matching in color.

"Oh," Trearch added casually, now reclining cross-legged on the grass, arms behind his head. "Forgot to mention. This is a paired task. Color-coded, for your convenience. Chop-chop."

Leon looked down in disbelief, his voice suddenly restored.

He blinked. "Why would anyone hire someone like that to be a professor...?" he muttered under his breath. Still stunned, he turned over his wrist.

Color: Gold.

A second later, Victoria stepped up beside him, flashing her wrist with a smirk. Same color.

"Well... at least his pairings are good." Leon sighed, finally composing himself, and approached her with a small, resigned chuckle.

Meanwhile, Marcus was still crouched near the herbs, testing each plant with idle interest. A faint bitter tinge crossed his tongue—he’d found one with light toxins. His purification magic flared briefly, and the poison dissipated instantly.

"Could be useful..." he muttered, stashing a few sprigs into his coat.

A quiet voice broke his concentration.

"Looks like we’re partners."

Marcus turned slightly, blinking as Cynthia stepped into view, standing just over his shoulder. She smiled, casual and confident, and held up her wrist.

Blue. Just like his.

"We’re both blue," she said, her voice calm but laced with an edge of excitement. "Looks like we’re in this together."

[Current Ongoing Routes:]

Cynthia Route (Acquaintances – ??? ’35%’)

This again...

Marcus exhaled through his nose, standing upright as blades of mountain grass clung stubbornly to his uniform. He brushed them off with a few swift motions, then glanced down at the glowing band of blue grass encircling his wrist—cool to the touch, yet pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. Still surreal.

"Guess you’re right," he muttered, shooting Cynthia a crooked grin. "At least I won’t have to worry about babysitting anyone."

His eyes drifted toward the lounging figure of Professor Trearch, who had now fully committed to napping—arms folded behind his head, blindfold in place, a serene smirk playing on his lips like some eccentric deity watching chaos unfold.

"I never really listened to his speech," Marcus added, voice low with faint amusement, "but he sure is odd."

Cynthia snorted softly, covering her mouth with her hand. "Well, I agree with you on that..." she said with an awkward chuckle. Her gaze followed his, locking on the absurd image of their so-called instructor snoozing in the grass while students tentatively shuffled toward the mouth of the dungeon.

More than a few looked back over their shoulders, unsure if this was truly sanctioned—or just a very elaborate prank.

"Let’s get going then," Marcus said at last, offering a small stretch and cracking his neck. He gave Cynthia a firm, almost brotherly pat on the shoulder. "Nothing like combat to help digest some food."

The two of them moved toward the entrance, steps light but ready, the subtle glint of challenge already flickering behind Marcus’s eyes.

Meanwhile, not far off in the clearing, another newly formed pair stood in awkward silence: Maria and Dwayne.

Maria, refined and calm, adjusted her uniform with quiet elegance. Dwayne, on the other hand, shifted his weight from one foot to the other like a barely-contained storm in boots. The two could not have looked more mismatched—like pairing a crystal wine glass with a spiked club.

And yet, fate—or more accurately, enchanted blades of grass—had spoken.

I just hope things don’t get too messy...

Marcus thought, casting a sidelong glance in their direction as he and Cynthia reached the shadowy mouth of the cave.

He had no idea just how prophetic those words would become.