Internet Mage Professor-Chapter 86: Professor Hein

Nolan yawned, letting the sounds of the crowd fade into background noise.

The artificial cheer, the gasps, the murmurs—it was all just a smog of foolishness.

He leaned his back against a wooden stall behind him, arms crossed. His mind drifted for a moment, trying to untangle the lingering doubt from earlier, but no fresh insight came.

The smell of fried skewers in the air was more compelling than the secondhand thrill of scammy street magic.

But then, his spine prickled.

Not the kind of spine prick that came from danger—no, this was different. It was more... annoying.

A breeze shifted above. A faint sparkle shimmered in his peripheral vision. And before he could even sigh, a familiar voice coiled around his ear like honey laced with poison.

"There you are, Master Nolan~♡!"

Nolan’s brow twitched.

He wonders why she seems different from before. Is she planning something? No, I am not going to sacrifice my lifespan with my semen.

Hovering just above him, wings folded with flirtatious precision, was Lirazel—the succubus who had, for reasons beyond all mortal comprehension, attached herself to him like a mosquito made of silk and horns.

Her bare legs swung playfully, and her impossibly long hair floated behind her like a shadow made of perfume.

"Goddess-tier timing," Nolan muttered, dryly. "I was wondering how long I could live in peace."

She hovered lower, almost face-to-face. "I’ve been looking for you all day! Don’t you miss me~?"

"No... it’s just a few minutes..."

"But we haven’t bred yet!" she said with a gasp so dramatic it could have won her an award in some theater city. "Don’t you know how many dreams I’ve had about our little hybrid babies? Silver horns, radioactive skin, those sharp little claws... my sisters would die of jealousy!"

Nolan turned slightly and scratched the inside of his ear with his pinky, not even sparing her a full glance. He examined the wax on his finger and gave it a flick. "Hmm. Still cleaner than this conversation."

Lirazel pouted, lips puffing out in a childish scowl. "You always avoid the subject! Every time! Do you hate me?"

"I don’t hate you," Nolan replied, shrugging. "I just enjoy not being part of a demon-breeding political scandal."

"But it wouldn’t be a scandal," she pressed, eyes widening with exaggerated innocence. "It would be love... forbidden love, yes, but that only makes it more romantic!"

"I think you’re confusing ’romance’ with ’biological manipulation.’"

"You don’t understand," she whimpered. "My sisters are already preparing their mates. Some of them even stole candidates from other realms! And here I am... still unbred." Her wings drooped dramatically. "If I go back empty-handed, they’ll mock me. They’ll call me a prude, or worse... a human-lover who couldn’t even lock down her mortal. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Nolan snorted. "You mean to guilt-trip me into being your breeding bull because your family is emotionally toxic?"

"You get it! Finally, you understand! So let’s just do it real quick—"

"No."

"Just once?"

"No."

"I’ll shapeshift into anything you like."

Nolan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why would I spend precious lifespan helping you create magical children who’ll grow up to conquer pocket realms while I age like a common potato?"

Lirazel gave a heartbreaking sigh, clasping her hands dramatically over her heart. "But don’t you care that I’m betraying my sisters for you? I told them I’d already secured a mate—if I don’t return with proof, they’ll call me a liar!" freeweɓnøvel.com

"Not my problem," he said, then squinted up at her. "Also, that’s your fault for lying. Ever tried telling them the truth?"

She flinched. "You think I can survive that? They’re succubi! They feed on ego and drama. They’d devour me."

"Well," Nolan said, stepping aside as if that somehow closed the conversation, "sounds like a personal problem."

"Ugh! You infuriate me!" she cried, shaking her fist at him. Then, like a switch had flipped, she gave a seductive smile again and leaned forward. "So... about those babies~?"

He rolled his eyes and walked away without a word.

Lirazel groaned and faded into the background, mumbling something about his "stupid mortal resistance being kind of hot."

Meanwhile, the crowd at the seller’s table had thinned a little after Ravas’s departure, though a few lingered with glowing eyes and Mana Crystals clenched in hand.

That was when a new presence approached—not one flashy or loud, but somehow heavy, grounded, and unquestionable.

A man in long, silver-trimmed robes stepped forward with practiced poise, the sigil of the Silver Blade Academy stitched elegantly into his breast.

His expression was calm, scholarly, but not without the glint of curiosity. He looked like someone who spent more time dissecting ancient spells than playing games of chance.

"I believe I would like to participate," the man said clearly.

The seller turned, blinking. "Ah... apologies, sir, but this game is for ordinary folk. You appear to be a... specialist."

"I am indeed," the man replied with a courteous nod. "Professor Hein, Full Lecturer of Mystic Theory, Silver Blade Academy."

A ripple went through the crowd.

"A professor?"

"Is he serious?"

"Hein? The one who wrote that treatise on multi-threaded incantations?"

Nolan furrowed his brow. "Hein? I’ve never met him before. Must be not one of the newer appointments today like me. Or one of those academic types that never step out of the library."

The seller, wary now, cleared his throat. "With respect, Professor, the rules clearly state no Mana Discerning Eyes. This is a test of intuition and fate."

Hein smiled pleasantly. "Of course. I’m merely curious. I won’t employ any active detection spells. Consider this... a pedagogical experiment."

The seller hesitated, then slowly gestured to the table. "Very well. You may examine the boxes. But no tricks."

The professor nodded and stepped closer. His gaze swept over the boxes—each a different size, color, and magical hue. While most spectators might see random trinkets and baubles, Hein saw layers. He stood still, arms behind his back, examining them one by one.

"The fluctuations..." he murmured aloud, "they’re subtle, but present. Box A has a slight instability in its aura matrix—an intentional imbalance. A misdirection spell, likely. Not dangerous, but designed to simulate complexity."

He moved to another. "Box D... curious. A residual warmth... not heat, but the psychic residue of enchantment. Yet, it’s dull. My guess? A recently infused decoy. Possibly fake, but forged by someone competent."

The murmurs around the professor thickened. Even the seller’s eyes twitched a bit.

Nolan leaned on a nearby pole and smirked. "Guess we’re all getting a free lesson."

Hein continued to mutter. "Box F is interesting. Its aura has a subtle distortion—like mana threading through oil. Either it contains a very fragile enchantment... or one masked under layered interference."

The professor narrowed his eyes and tapped his chin.

"No... it’s deeper than that. The masking spell isn’t just distortion—it’s a deliberate mimicry of instability. Someone went to great lengths to make this one appear broken, while it actually holds something potent. Possibly a relic infused with artificial decay. A trick for the inattentive."

He stepped back, finally nodding to himself. "Alright," he said, pointing his hand toward the modest-looking Box F.

"I will choose this one."