"So you're telling me…" Brandt's voice was low, dangerous, his glare burning into me, "…that you came out here for a morning run. At three. In the morning."
"Yes, Instructor," I said evenly, refusing to flinch. My face wore exhaustion, but my tone carried stubborn conviction. "After my humiliating defeat—you remember, the one you called a disappointment?—I realized you were right. I lacked discipline. So I decided… why sleep, when I could run? Why waste time dreaming, when I could bleed instead?"
Brandt's frown wavered. His suspicion remained, but his pride was being fed exactly what it craved.
"Fine," he grunted. "Let's pretend I believe that. Then explain this. How did you encounter him?"
I let out a breath, feigning hesitation, then leaned in as if confiding a secret. "Well… as I was running, I heard this loud boom. So loud even the corpses in the cemetery probably rolled over. At first, I thought, 'Hah, the ladies of Liliane Hall must be throwing the kind of party I never get invited to.'" I allowed myself a wry smirk. "But the mana that washed over the area? Dense, unstable. Wrong. Even an idiot would know something was happening. So, as a responsible student, I went to investigate."
Brandt's eye twitched. "Stop dragging it out and get to the point."
"Alright, alright," I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. "I get there, I see this figure bolting like his pants are on fire. He screamed suspicious from every angle. So, naturally, I followed. Quick, but careful. Like a good stalker."
A few of Brandt's men shifted uncomfortably. I smiled faintly.
"When he turned toward the worker's rest house, I figured it out. They must've used the maintenance crew as their cover. Pretty clever, honestly. Almost worked. So I attacked. He dodged. I dragged him in here. We danced. He bled. End of story." I gestured toward the corpse at my feet, casual as if pointing at spilled trash.
Brandt's silence pressed heavy, his eyes drilling holes through me.
"So I'm expected to believe this?"
"It's not a story, Instructor." I let my voice sharpen, twisting offense into it. "It's the testament of how I bled to keep this academy from being embarrassed while your men were chasing shadows. Maybe the real question is why a student had to finish what the guards couldn't."
Brandt's jaw flexed, but he had no counter. Still, his eyes glinted with one last trap.
"But you're a spear user, aren't you? That man was killed with a knife."
I laughed. Low, amused, edged with mockery. "Oh, come on, Instructor. Do you expect me to politely unsheathe my spear, announce myself like it's a duel, and then fight fair? This wasn't training. This was close quarters, kill-or-die. Knives work better. Besides…" My smile widened just a fraction. "You don't survive in alleys with only one weapon."
The silence after that was taut, uncomfortable. My words had been too smooth, too… knowing.
I let it hang, then sighed dramatically, tilting my head. "Anyway, if we're done here, I could use some actual help." With deliberate slowness, I pulled my tunic aside, revealing the deep stab wound on my left side. Blood clung thick to the skin. "Got this from our friend over there. Hurts like a bitch. Might've been poisoned, too. Hard to tell. But hey, no rush. I'm only bleeding out in a bathroom."
"Why didn't you say so earlier!?" Brandt barked, alarm flashing across his face.
I raised my brows innocently. "Maybe because someone kept grilling me like a suspect instead of treating me like the savior of the night?"
"Damn brat—! Healer, now!" Brandt roared.
"Sir, the healer's still at Liliane Hall," one of the men stammered.
"Then MOVE!" Brandt snapped, his command cracking like thunder.
And just like that, I was no longer the suspect—I was the wounded hero, carried off toward the girls' dorms.
_____
The moment they carried me toward Liliane Hall, the chaos was like a wound the academy tried desperately to stitch shut. Instructors rushed back and forth, hauling stretchers, barking orders, scrubbing away the traces of blood and battle. The smell of iron still hung thick in the air, mingling with the scorched tang of burned mana.
The men dropped me near Instructor Helena, the healer, whose hands already glowed with a soft, golden light. She barely glanced at the chaos; her eyes fixed on me as if I were the only thing in the world.
"Your wound is deep," she murmured, leaning closer, brows knitting in concern. Her hands pressed over my side and a pulse of warmth made me flinch. "It came close to piercing an organ. Luckily—no poison. The pain you felt was simply the depth of the stab."
She huffed and shot a glare at the instructors lingering nearby. "Hah. These men. Always questions first, treatment later. Can't they see you're bleeding? Poor boy…"
Poor boy.
I almost laughed. The wound was real, but it wasn't the infiltrator who gave it to me. I had carved it into myself—an investment, really, to make the whole story airtight.
The real Newbie, the one I had replaced for my own amusement, had been gagged and locked away earlier. A mana suppressor from his own belt had stripped him of everything that made him dangerous. By the time I returned, he still had that faint spark in his eyes—hope. He probably thought I'd come to free him. Maybe he thought I was on his side.
When he realized it was me, his face fell into silence. A silence that broke only when I dragged him across the tiles, scoring his flesh just enough to leave a convincing trail. His muffled grunts turned desperate when I drew my knife. He never got an answer to why.
I slit his throat clean. Efficient. Cold. His body slumped against the stall like discarded baggage. And just like that, my lie had a spine to stand on.
"You should be good by now," Helena said, pulling her glowing hands away.
"I hope that as well," I replied softly, my mask still flawless.
Miss Helena left. I looked to my side. There was Lucas, silent, watching the entire grim scene unfold.
"So, you were dragged into this mess as well?" I said, despite knowing fully well his central role.
"Y-yes," Lucas mumbled, still looking overwhelmed.
"So you fought the two infiltrators and knocked them up, huh? You've gotten strong."
"Well, that was all just luck."
"Luck, huh?" I leaned back slightly, a slight smirk touching my lips. "So Lucas, why were you even doing at this hour near the girls' dormitory? Do you come here to peak at girls at night?"
"N-no! No! Why would I do that?" Lucas sputtered, his composure shattering instantly.
"Relax," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "It was a joke. I ain't interrogating you like those instructor jerks."
I sighed, letting the weight of the last hour settle like dust on my skin. Blood, smoke, and mana residue still clung to my clothes, but my voice was almost casual when I spoke.
"Say, Lucas, what do you make of all this? What's going to happen to us after everything tonight?"
He shifted uncomfortably on the cot beside mine, his eyes darting around at the instructors moving like shadows in the hall. "Probably… we'll get rewarded or something, right? For bravery. We saved the day; we didn't let the elf princess get kidnapped."
I chuckled, low and humorless. "Hahaha. Well, you're right and wrong at the same time."
His brow furrowed. "Huh? How?"
"Well, you're right about the reward part." I leaned back, hands folded behind my head. "But the reward isn't for our heroics. It's mostly to keep our mouths shut."
He blinked, taken aback. "Why would they—"
"It's not about individual heroic acts or anything," I cut him off smoothly, leaning forward now. "It's about reputation."
He swallowed. "…Reputation?"
"This academy sells itself as the safest, most prestigious training ground for royalty and nobility. The Elven Kingdom trusted us with their princess. How could they admit they let someone stroll through their security like it was a picnic? How could they admit we nearly lost her?"
I gestured at the empty hall around us. "They won't. The things that happened here tonight? They'll be buried. The only people who know are us and the instructors. Even now, it's still early; most are asleep. And the ones who weren't?" A slight grin tugged at my lips. "I've already seen the instructors taking care of that."
Lucas shifted again, his hands tightening on his knees.
"By the way," I added, almost idly, "did you notice how everyone in Liliane Hall's still snoring away? The infiltrator used some artifact—spread a crystalline powder that knocked the whole dorm out cold. No witnesses, no noise. Convenient, huh?"
He said nothing, but his throat bobbed as he swallowed.
I met his gaze, letting the cynicism drip from my words. "So see, Lucas? All the work you've done tonight — you bled to be a hero, to save a princess. And all that hard work will vanish. No one will know. No one will appreciate it. They'll just hand you a pouch of gold to keep quiet."
He looked down at his lap. "That's… that's not fair."
"That's how society is." My voice softened, but only a little. "One man sweats for praise, and another man writes the report. Heroes get silence. Bureaucrats get credit."
I tilted my head, watching him closely. "How does it feel, Lucas? Knowing that you're the one who worked for the praise, but the only thing you'll get is a bribe?"
He glanced up at me finally, his eyes clouded and unsure.
I smiled faintly — not warm, not cruel, just a ghost of amusement. "Say, Lucas…" I let the words hang, like a hook lowered into dark water. "Do you resent them?"
"I…" Lucas hesitated, then met my gaze. "Well, I'm not sure. But one thing is clear. No, I don't resent them."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I jumped into the fight without thinking," he continued. "There was nothing in my mind — no reward, no praise. I just did what felt right at the moment. Resentment…" His gaze drifted down. "Resentment is something people feel when they have expectations and don't get what they think they deserve. I'm not like that, Lord Evan. I'm a man with no worth. Even if the academy treats my actions as their own, it's fine. As long as something I did turns out to be helpful."
I exhaled slowly, almost a sigh. "What a foolish thought."
Lucas gave a weak chuckle. "Maybe. But still… it's disappointing. I bled for a pretty girl while she only slept, not knowing the hardship I went through."
"Hm. Are you disappointed the Elven Princess doesn't know how 'cool' you are? A knight in shining armor saving her?" I asked, voice half-teasing, half-probing.
"No. I just…" He turned to look out the dormitory window, his voice softening. "…I just thought maybe my voice could reach someone. Maybe it could help them finally get out of the locked cage they've built around themselves."
I tilted my head. "Hmm. Say, Lucas…" My voice dropped, sharper now. "You love Emilia, right?"
"Wh—what are you saying, Lord Ev—Evan? How would I dare—"
"Don't twist your words." I cut him off, my tone flat. "Tell me simply. Yes or no. There's no one here to judge you. Just you and me."
His shoulders slumped. "…I… Yes. I do." Lucas's gaze fell to the floor. "But, Lord Evan… that love is one-sided. Just like you told me in the past. A foolish village boy dreaming beyond his walls."
He clenched his hands. "I know I've done many foolish things. I was immature. But right now, all I want is Lady Emilia's happiness. And I know for sure I'm not the one who can give her that." He bowed his head low. "So, Lord Evan…" His voice trembled. "Please mend things with Lady Emilia. Don't let my foolish actions get between you. From now on, I'll try not to interfere. I was too small-minded to realize, but please, Lord Evan—don't let her suffer more."
I looked at the pathetic boy doing his best. What's the point now?
"Raise your head, boy." My voice was softer than I expected.
He slowly did.
"For the time being, your request is heavy," I said, my words measured. "But…" A faint smile touched my lips. "…You'll probably get good news later."
"Re—really? Thanks, Lord Evan!"
"Fufu…" I smiled, but deep down I knew it was meaningless. Why would I chase a love that wasn't destined to be mine?
If I had truly loved her, I wouldn't have let her go. I would have made sure her eyes stayed on me alone. But I didn't. I let her slip through my fingers.
So why go back to the very thing that destroys you? Why chase it again?
Evan Ravenshade had once loved Emilia deeply. And what happened? In the end, she chose the protagonist — Lucas.
There are some things you can't change — not with emotion, not with closeness. Not with fate itself.
We're not heroes, nor villains. We're just the stars written in someone else's sky. Destined to burn out where we stand.
------
Author's note:
Well That's A Good Journey Now I Taking A Break Now. Hope It Won't Be Too Long.