Chatter. Chatter. Chatter.
— "Hey, isn't that the Apex?"
— "Yeah, no one else in the school looks like that."
— "Hmm, yeah, but why is he injured?"
— "Maybe he tried using Flashstep without safety gear?"
— "Shh... If the boys hear you pitying him, you'll be isolated."
— "But he's hot though."
— "Yeah, he is."
...
'Can they keep their voices down?'
I was already trying my best to stand on my feet after yesterday's training.
Usually, mages wore safety gear when practicing Flashstep— even Beatrice said she wore one.
But she didn't let me wear any.
No safety gear, no potions, and constant lewd remarks to throw me off.
Because of that, I had crashed into more trees than I could count.
If that wasn't bad enough, the first thing I saw when I entered the classroom was my vandalized desk.
Someone, or perhaps a group, had spray-painted my chair.
Names like bastard, idiot, failure.
