Broken Possessors of Infinite Regression Academy

“Priscilla’s father… Maximilian Agnes, the Duke, is it?”

Priscilla calling him father so naturally was understandable, considering she had lived as Priscilla for over 500 years.

I, too, mentally distinguished between parents from this world and my original world, but verbally, I just called them mother and father. What mattered more was not the title but the person.

“Your father wants to meet me? Why?” I asked.

“Remember the core design I passed on? It seems to have become a bigger deal than expected. I heard that the Emperor himself mentioned the core. So, the project has been pushed forward significantly,” Priscilla explained.

The Emperor mentioned it directly? The efficiency must have improved significantly. It was surprising, but understandable. A 30% increase in efficiency was a number that would catch anyone’s attention, especially those interested in numbers and statistics.

Although I thought the palace wouldn’t care much about such matters, it seemed to be a concern for more than just the magicians. After all, top-quality magic stones were quite expensive.

“So, the discussion gained traction, and my father heard about it. My father, the Duke.”

If he was a Duke, then naturally, he must have connections with the imperial family. Moreover, if his daughter was the one leading the development, then it would be impossible not to be concerned.

“Last night, he contacted me. He heard there’s a male student who gave advice on the core improvement and has been hanging around the academy lately. He asked if it was the same person.”

“What did you say?”

“I said yes. He asked if it was the Crate’s youngest son, Mira Crate, and I said yes again. Then he said he understood and ended the call. After that, he asked if he could meet you this morning.”

It wasn’t impossible to meet. They had no means or justification to interfere with me from their side, and above all, Priscilla wouldn’t allow it.

“Your father… I mean, this world’s father. What kind of person is he? There must be some traits, like strictness or being composed.”

Priscilla replied with a chuckle to my question.

“Um… a doting father?”

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.

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As far as I knew, there were broadly two types of doting fathers in fictional works. One was overly demanding in finding a good match for their daughter, and the other vehemently opposed any man approaching their daughter.

In reality, there wasn’t much difference between the two. The former had higher standards for a good match, and the latter eventually accepted any man their daughter liked. Both were just variations of the same theme.

The most troublesome type, which didn’t belong to either category, was the one who got angry with any man who approached their daughter but then blamed their daughter if she rejected them. They usually ended up being a comic relief character who cried alone after receiving scoldings from their wife about their daughter’s disappointment.

“Father? Well… besides cherishing me, I don’t know much about him. I never brought any men home because there’s never been anyone to bring.”

Priscilla couldn’t answer the question either. Throughout the countless loops, she had to adhere to the original plot, and since there was never a man brought home in the original, she couldn’t say what her father’s reaction would be if she did. Moreover, due to Priscilla’s intense focus on studying, she rarely went home, making Duke Agnes practically an unknown figure.

“So, We’re meeting Priscilla’s father today?” I asked.

“Well, sort of.”

“It’s a formal meeting?”

“No.”

Priscilla answered firmly. Rosalia blinked as if she didn’t expect such an answer and then sat on the bed with a puzzled expression, bidding us farewell with a face that seemed to say, ‘Well then, whatever.’

Priscilla and I headed to the dimensional portal installed in the academy, and soon, an elderly man dressed in formal attire appeared within it, bowing politely in greeting towards us. The man was Duke Agnes’s steward, tasked with seeing us off.

“Shall we go? There’s no time to waste,” Priscilla said.

“Yes, Miss. Allow me to escort you.”

We boarded the carriage as directed by the steward and, shortly after, crossed space with the unique sound of passing through a dimensional portal. The door opened. It hadn’t even been a minute since we boarded.

I wondered why they bothered with the carriage, but perhaps it was just for show. I got off first and then took Priscilla’s hand as she shyly grasped mine.

“Hmm.”

I met the uncomfortable gaze of the tall man with crossed arms, who was looking down at me solemnly. Somehow, I felt something off about him since we crossed the dimensional portal.

With orange hair similar to Priscilla’s and amber eyes, possessing a formidable physique that could rival Professor Jake’s, the man was undoubtedly Priscilla’s father.

His eyes locked onto the hands Priscilla and I were holding. His expression turned menacing, and a palpable aura emanated from him. I motioned Priscilla to stay back.

It was a presence akin to intimidation. He didn’t really intend to kill me. Sure, someone less experienced might be terrified, but I was quite accustomed to dealing with such types.

The real aura to kill someone was the one displayed by the Sword Saint last time.

“Nice to meet you for the first time, Duke Maximilian Agnes,”

I greeted, ignoring his aura and bowing respectfully. A hint of satisfaction crossed the Duke’s face as he acknowledged my calm demeanor.

“It’s fortunate that you don’t address me as father-in-law from our first meeting,” he remarked.

Ah, that was the issue.

“I’ve heard the news. You’re the one who provided advice when my daughter was designing the new core for the magic golem. I also heard that you laid the groundwork for it,” he continued.

“I was just lucky,” I replied.

Despite facing his aura head-on, I engaged in conversation nonchalantly, and the Duke seemed pleased, flashing a satisfied smile.

“You’re not just some unqualified boy. I heard the youngest son of the Crate family, Mira Crate, is quite sickly. They say dozens of doctors follow him whenever he goes out.”

“Rumors are just rumors,” I shrugged.

After the incident at birth, I had always been entirely healthy. I’d tried countless times to prove my health, but nothing seemed to convince my parents.

“I see. So, are all the rumors about you circulating at Bellium Academy are false?” he inquired.

“It depends on the type of rumor,” I replied.

Rumors about a madman declaring to dominate the top spot in the school for three years straight from the entrance ceremony seemed to be true. Recently, there were rumors suggesting that it might actually be possible.

“There were rumors about a candidate for Saint and the chosen Hero, the Hero’s childhood friend, and my daughter forming a club for recreational purposes and doing unspeakable things within it. The Astriere family’s darling couldn’t even join, and she’s fuming,” he added.

I couldn’t help but wonder who started such rumors. Perhaps it was one of the rejected applicants for club membership.

Seeing my incredulous expression, the Duke’s demeanor softened for a moment. Beside him, Priscilla’s mother nudged his side with her elbow, scolding him, but he seemed unperturbed.

“I understand. Welcome to the Agnes Estate, Mira Crate,” the Duke said, extending his hand towards me.

Wasn’t he supposed to do something like this only to the head of the Crate family? Was he really asking for a handshake from the son? I looked at the Duke with surprise, and it seemed others around us had similar reactions. It appeared to be an impromptu action.

“Feel at home as you would at your own house,” he added.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” I replied, shaking his hand.

Snap!

“Huh?”

Looking at the Duke’s hand, which was now closing in like a hydraulic press, I sensed something was amiss. His grip seemed intent on crushing my hand completely, turning my skin pale.

‘Was this supposed to be a handshake?’ I thought, meeting his strength with mine. Surprisingly, my strength seemed much greater, causing the Duke to flinch. Then, he smiled with a hint of struggle, swelling his right arm as if to burst.

The people around us finally seemed to realize what was happening. Priscilla’s mother scolded the Duke for his behavior, but he seemed unrelenting.

“I guess I have to yield a bit,” I thought, slightly easing my grip. However, the Duke’s disappointed expression flashed across his face as he realized it wasn’t enough.

“Sigh,” I couldn’t help but exert more force again, giving in to his obvious disappointment. At this rate, there was no way to back down.

Whether he wanted to depict a fierce struggle ending with him barely victorious or genuinely wanted to prove that I couldn’t overpower him, I wasn’t sure. But one thing was certain, winning would earn me much more favor than losing. I exerted more force, and then even more. Finally, when I put my last ounce of strength into it…

Crack!

With a resounding noise, the Duke’s hand bent inward. There were gasps of astonishment from the bystanders, but the Duke, the one whose hand had contorted, looked nonchalantly surprised.

Well, perhaps “nonchalantly surprised” sounded a bit odd, but that’s how it seemed.

“…,”

Wait, was this right? Why are you so weak?