The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 77: My Talk Therapy Works Fast, Huh?

While chatting with Lily, Isabel quickly learned the maid’s original surname.Lily didn’t hide it.

“—Droste?”

Isabel frowned slightly.

“He did something like that?”

She was a bit angry.

She’d always thought well of Minister Droste, considering him one of the better ministers—a rare good one.

Charles Droste, the kingdom’s trade minister, was an old, portly man, yet patient and polite.

Always laughing heartily, he was competent, respectful, and loyal to the Queen.

Even with the once-timider Isabel, he treated her as an equal, never dismissive.

When the Queen complained about disloyal or incompetent ministers, Droste’s name rarely came up.

This old knight was married with children, even grandchildren in university.

Yet, at his age, he’d been fooling around with a prostitute, fathering a child barely older than his grandchildren.

Isabel had a classmate, Droste’s granddaughter, nineteen and in her second year.

Lily, twenty-six and a first-year, was technically her aunt.

When the mother showed up with the child, old Droste handed off his fourteen-year-old illegitimate daughter to be someone’s maid.

Per Master Yannis, personal maids were often used for…

Isabel knew Lily was innocent.

That’s why she frowned at the jovial old knight, mentally noting his name.

When Isabel’s expression darkened, Lily realized for the first time that the princess could exude authority.

With her face stern, the shy, quiet girl—reminiscent of Yulia—radiated a faint majesty.

The girls chatted while touring the villa.

When they returned downstairs, they found Aiwas quietly asleep by the gramophone.

Curled in his wheelchair, sleeping Aiwas made Isabel hold her breath.

Lily tiptoed over to cover him with a blanket, but as she approached, Aiwas’s eyes fluttered open.

“I’m not asleep,” he said hoarsely.

[Liar, you just woke up,] Isabel thought.

But she realized something else:

[His senses are that sharp?]

Lily made no sound, yet he noticed her approach.

Just then, the villa’s electronic doorbell rang.

Isabel instinctively moved to answer, but Lily stopped her.

“I’ll get it, Your Highness.”

Opening the door, she found Haina, there to fetch Aiwas for class.

Haina peeked inside, eyes wide with awe and envy.

Isabel realized it was already two o’clock.

She hurriedly bid Aiwas, Lily, and Senior Haina goodbye, rushing back to the sixth department—she hadn’t taken leave for her afternoon class.

Lily gently wiped Aiwas’s face with a clean towel, as he couldn’t move easily in the wheelchair.

Then she followed Haina to the afternoon classroom.

The afternoon was a language class: Elvish, using .

Haina chuckled at the sight.

It was the book Aiwas nearly tossed into the fireplace when they first met, stopped by her hand, filled with his self-study notes.

Recalling that moment, Haina understood why Aiwas knew so much about Star Antimony’s history and the empire’s superhuman wars that morning.

Aiwas was a true learner.

His two-month absence must’ve had an unspoken reason.

His earlier teasing was probably because she’d kept him waiting two hours, sparking his youthful temper.

[He’s young, after all,] Haina thought.

[A little temper’s normal… I was in the wrong.]

She shook her head wryly, reminding herself:

[No more being late.]

Haina had little sense of time.

Before the capital, classmates called her a child cursed by Sandglass.

But she felt it was more a blessing, just misused.

She’d lose hours reading, practicing swordsmanship, or running, time slipping by unnoticed.

She felt no fatigue, never slacked, and stayed focused.

In her first year, thinking herself smart enough to coast, she nearly failed.

But when she got serious, her grades soared, thanks to her “skip-the-process” learning efficiency.

Haina knew her limits.

She wasn’t truly smart, just good at studying.

That’s why she shed her arrogance.

Classmates who partied yet maintained grades were far smarter.

After university, without this environment, she’d struggle to learn.

But her classmates could adapt quickly with their wit and talent—her grades didn’t reflect true brilliance.

Haina brought Aiwas to the classroom thirty minutes early.

Elvish was a public course, held in a standard lecture hall.

She introduced Aiwas to the Elvish lecturer before leaving.

Aiwas’s Elvish knowledge was limited, so he focused intently.

He caused no trouble, and the lecturer—a butterfly-like elf writing complex grammar rules on the board—didn’t call on him.

She led students in reciting Elvish poems, correcting their airy, poetic pronunciations.

Though only a lecturer, the lowest rank in Avalon’s academic system—equivalent to a fresh doctoral stay-on—she taught surprisingly well.

In under two hours, Aiwas felt his skills improve noticeably.

Compared to his self-study, he realized:

[This is the superhuman boost to learning from advancing!]

Specifically, the Dedication path had enhanced parts of his body and soul.

His logic and imagination hadn’t spiked, but his memory had improved dramatically.

His physical recovery was better too.s with beams, and travels interstellar at superluminal speeds.

Superman: “He’s an inspiring ideal, a beacon in the darkness.”

Wonder Woman: “He’s an honorable warrior.”

Batman, silent, drafts an “Ultraman Rampage Contingency.”

Steppenwolf (crawling back to Apokolips): “No way, Ultraman’s too strong!”

Shen You: “Don’t listen to them. I’m just an ordinary scientist from the Land of Light, without their power.”

(Chapter End)