Fortunately, Mizuno managed to quickly wash off the sticky patch in an empty restroom. While he couldn't completely remove the honey scent, he'd greatly reduced its impact on his low presence. As long as he didn't linger in one place longer than two or three minutes, no one would notice him.
"Everyone, please follow to the conference room," said Hayakawa Tazuna gently. "There, veteran trainers will share their experiences and advice for future planning. It's an essential eting for all new trainers, so please don't miss it."
Led by Tazuna, Mizuno and the other new trainers soon arrived at the academy's eting room.
Inside, several veteran trainers—almost all bearing so kind of injury—waited solemnly to begin their advice session.
"You new trainers need to be realistic about your abilities. I strongly recomnd working as an assistant under an experienced trainer first. Learn managent skills over several years before finding your own Uma Musu. This way you gain knowledge and stay relatively safe."
"If you're confident enough to take charge of an Uma Musu imdiately, at least never promise sothing reckless like, 'I'll take responsibility if you fail.' Such words ruin not just her future, but yours as well."
"Don't manage too many Uma Musu. One is ideal, two is manageable, and three or more require daily reports to the academy. That way, when you inevitably disappear, the school can find you sooner."
"Throughout your career here, do not develop or reveal even the slightest romantic thoughts—not toward colleagues, and certainly not toward Uma Musu, regardless of gender. Always maintain an appropriate distance from everyone."
"Never proactively invite Uma Musu out for als. If one invites you, politely decline anyway."
"No head pats! No touching ears! And definitely no touching tails!"
"The shuttle bus transporting male trainers between dorms and campus can't accommodate everyone at once. Newcors, show courtesy and let senior trainers board first. Your respect could extend their lifespan—thank you."
"Trainer dormitories require an ID card for entry, so guard yours carefully. If lost, you won't be the only one who suffers; everyone in your dormitory will be at risk."
"When going to bed, always secure doors and windows. If you hear doors being destroyed or a colleague screaming, stay inside. Call campus security imdiately and wait until assistance arrives."
"If an Uma Musu confesses to you, gently refuse without displaying irritation or excitent. Play dumb! Always play dumb! After she leaves, imdiately request protection from the academy. They might discreetly arrange your resignation if needed."
"If you're an attractive male trainer—charming, gentle, clearly irresistible—just quit now. We're not discriminating; you simply don't belong here. Stay anyway, and your only fate is a dim basent."
Mizuno: "..."
The advice session had started normally enough but rapidly descended into outright horror stories.
This isn't advice; these are ghost stories!
Moreover, their warnings were so vague that had Mizuno not already known what kind of place Tracen Academy was, he wouldn't have understood the hidden anings.
Sure enough, none of the other new trainers got it.
"What the hell are you seniors even talking about? I don't understand at all!" complained the afro-haired trainer loudly.
Kaneshiro Takeru, the small but determined trainer looking for his brother, also stood up, voicing his objection to the veterans on stage.
"Uma Musu are so kindhearted. How can we pretend not to understand their feelings and reject them? Isn't that what scumbags do?"
Other newcors quickly cheered.
"Exactly! Well said!"
"That's right!"
Mizuno watched Kaneshiro Takeru's tiny but resolute figure and sincerely thought, You're incredible, man.
He finally understood why Kaneshiro's brother had vanished—both brothers clearly shared a reckless kindness toward Uma Musu, practically guaranteeing a basent ending.
Seeing the newcors oblivious to the seriousness of their warnings, the veteran trainers shook their heads helplessly.
They'd once rejected their own seniors' advice similarly, assuming it was just exaggerated scare tactics. Only after years of working at Tracen had they understood the bitter truth.
"For the final matter: Are any of you willing to beco our assistants to learn how to manage an Uma Musu?"
The veterans waited a minute—yet no one raised their hand.
Mizuno couldn't accept because his system quest required him to directly manage an Uma Musu, or else his protective Doctor's Outfit would disappear in two days.
As for the others, it was simply arrogance.
Each newcor had passed rigorous testing to enter Tracen. They were brimming with self-confidence and had zero intention of serving as assistants to these wheelchair-bound veterans.
"We don't need it," snorted the afro-haired trainer coldly.
Veteran trainers: "..."
Being an assistant was actually a win-win: it protected veterans from excessive contact with their attached Uma Musu, while allowing rookies to gain experience safely, as veterans' devoted Uma Musu wouldn't target assistants.
But if these newcors were determined to reject their kindness, then fine—the seniors weren't going to beg them. Only painful lessons would eventually teach them caution.
The veterans sighed heavily and rolled out on their wheelchairs.
At the door, Tazuna sighed, massaging her temples. "Every year, it's exactly the sa…"
The eting ended unpleasantly.
"Let's go explore the academy ourselves. We might find Uma Musu worth training," announced the afro-haired trainer, leading the male newcors out first.
"Let's go tour as well and get to know each other," suggested a female trainer with glasses, guiding the other female trainees out.
Soon, Mizuno was alone in the empty eting room.
Unlike the others, he had no ti to waste. The Doctor's Outfit had only two days left, and the honey incident significantly weakened its protective effects. He urgently needed to complete quests to extend its duration and sohow mitigate the honey's lingering scent.
He opened his inventory and took out an item.
[Random Uma Musu Selection Ticket (Choose 1 from 3)]
Activate.
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