Quietly Hiding that I am a Man chapter 90- Fake Skills

“Everyone, take your places!”

At Professor Calliope’s command, the chattering freshmen quickly lined up in pairs.

Today was the day of their first combat class.

The Etrance Academy had a unique system aside from the usual guild setup — the “Mentor Class,” where upperclassmen were paired with new students for joint training.

Since freshmen generally lacked battle experience and faced high risks, the Mentor Class was created to address the limitations of having just a single professor guide large-scale combat classes.

On the first day, each freshman was assigned a mentor from the year above.

The mentor assigned could significantly shape the tone of combat training, making this pairing almost as important as joining a guild.

“What kind of mentor do you want?”

“As long as it’s someone with a similar main weapon, I’ll be grateful.”

Anxiety was visible on the freshmen’s faces as they waited their turn.

Mentors were randomly assigned to avoid any bias, so freshmen would take turns picking from items laid out by the upperclassmen.

I suddenly recalled the storyline.

“Come to think of it, Luke’s mentor back then was Carlisle.”

Their episodes of flirtation under the guise of training had been particularly popular.

Now that Luke was an upperclassman, he’d have to be the mentor instead.

“Forget the weapon; just let me avoid Luke’s belongings, please!”

The thought of picking up Luke’s item filled me with dread.

I didn’t care if it made for a harmonious senior-junior relationship or even a close call on survival.

My expression grew so grim that Professor Calliope shuddered.

“Th-that’s right. Jeanne, it’s your turn.”

I lifted my head at his trembling voice, only to see him practically flee.

The response confirmed it — rumors about Jeanne had reached even the professors.

I’d inhabited the body of Jeanne, a noble lady, yet everyone treated me as if I were a storm’s eye of a transfer student.

“Huh? What’s this…?”

Amid the scattered belongings, something glittered, catching my eye.

Before anyone else could grab it, I reached out and picked up a small hand mirror.

There was no way this self-indulgent object belonged to Luke, but I knew exactly who owned this luxuriously ornate mirror.

“It has to be… that guild master of Venus, the Empire’s notorious philanderer…”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, then silence fell.

All eyes were fixed in one direction.

With golden hair flowing in the breeze and an entrance that silenced the surroundings, there he stood.

Dressed in a dazzling array of jewels, I clutched the mirror tightly.

“The eccentric alchemist, Marchen’s mirror.”