Sylvara's Rebirth A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 95

**Chapter 95: The Most Unpopular Department**

As the atmosphere thickened with tension, it became glaringly obvious that the pretty girl was not one to yield easily. The thought nagged at Aslan—was that conniving bastard using his connections again to pull some underhanded stunts?

“Achoo!”

Aslan, wincing from the sting of a bruised lip, sneezed explosively. His entire body throbbed with discomfort, feeling as though he had indeed been flattened by a massive truck.

A figure approached, his violet eyes glimmering with concern. He removed his fingerless gloves, revealing elegant hands that spoke of nobility. “Do you need to head to the medical pod?” he inquired, his voice smooth and refined.

Aslan rubbed his sore nose, grimacing at the pain. “No, no need for that. Someone must be thinking about me right now. I just took the gene candy. Let’s hang tight for a little while longer.”

The man, with a hint of amusement in his gaze, tucked his gloves into his spatial button. He settled onto the ground, his long legs folded beneath him, and rested his arm casually on his knee, turning his attention to Aslan, waiting for the gene candy to kick in.

Meanwhile, in his office, Drenvar leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed intently on Sylvara. “Why would I ever want to complicate things with you? When a challenger backs out of a challenge, even if you relinquish the chief badge, that position remains yours.”

Sylvara placed her hand firmly on the badge, pushing it away as if to distance herself from the responsibility. “Mr. Stone, I lack the mental energy, and my physical stats are H-grade. There’s no way I can manage the chief position.”

Drenvar frowned, his brow furrowing with concern. “But how can you simply resign from being chief? The Fifth Military Academy has never had such a rule since its inception.”

Another rule?

Sylvara felt the urge to smack her forehead in frustration. She really ought to familiarize herself with the rules of the Fifth Military Academy more thoroughly. Otherwise, she’d keep stumbling into trouble, unable to maintain a low profile. “So you’re saying I have to be chief for five years?”

Drenvar chuckled softly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “What are you thinking? Our military academy prides itself on fairness and equality. Everyone has the opportunity to be chief. That’s why the rules state that three months constitute one quarter. There’s an evaluation every quarter, and it’s based on challenge matches.”

“Anyone from your Agriculture Department who defeats you in a challenge can take your chief position. The challenger will rise up.”

What a delightful twist of fate!

Sylvara’s thoughts turned dark as she felt a surge of frustration towards Aslan.

She clenched her teeth, fully aware of when to bend and when to stand her ground. A smile crept onto her face, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Mr. Stone, I really can’t handle being the chief of the Agriculture Department. How about transferring me to the Culinary Department? I think that would suit me perfectly.”

Drenvar’s smile faltered, his expression shifting to one of disbelief. Was she truly serious? She wanted to abandon the Agriculture Department chief position to go where?

Sylvara seized the moment, her voice firm. “The Culinary Department.”

Seeing the conflict flicker in Drenvar’s eyes, Sylvara pressed her advantage. “Mr. Stone, cooking doesn’t require mental energy, and physical stats don’t matter as much. Besides, I didn’t exactly earn this chief position through honorable means.”

“For the sake of maintaining the academy’s fair and just atmosphere, I implore you to assist me in transferring departments. I promise I will graduate from the Culinary Department with nothing less than excellent grades.”

The idea of graduating with excellent grades from the Culinary Department was laughable.

Previous students had never made such bold claims; they viewed the Culinary Department as merely a stepping stone, swiftly transferring to other departments after three months. Thus, in the last decade, only three individuals had graduated after the full five years.

And those graduates had struggled to find jobs, often returning to the academy to pursue another department for a year before finally managing to secure employment.

Now, here was Sylvara, boldly declaring her intentions.

Drenvar regarded her with a newfound curiosity, his interest piqued. “Ms. Feywin, can you assure me you’ll remain in the Culinary Department for these five years without transferring?”

At the sound of his question, Sylvara felt a wave of confidence wash over her. She raised her hand, nearly ready to swear an oath. “As long as the Culinary Department’s officer isn’t Aslan, I guarantee I won’t transfer for these five years. If you doubt me, we can formalize it with an agreement.”

Drenvar’s hand slammed down on the table, startling Sylvara and prompting her to consider softening her words to ease the tension.