After confirming that every student had arrived, the professor wasted no time and began the class.
"Today," he announced in a calm but authoritative tone, "we'll be conducting mock duels between Class C and Class E."
A ripple of surprise swept through the students.
"Mock duels…?"
"Wait, on the first day?"
"Isn't that dangerous?"
Before the noise could grow louder, the professor's sharp voice cut through the murmurs. "Silence!"
The chatter died instantly. Professor Dominic, a tall man with a stern face and the kind of presence that naturally commanded respect, looked around the room until he was certain everyone's attention was on him.
"This will be a light exercise," he explained evenly. "You'll be using wooden swords only. No sword energy, no spells. It's meant to test your fundamentals and teamwork, nothing more."
His tone carried enough confidence that even the more nervous students began to relax. The earlier unease faded into cautious anticipation.
Most of the Class C students—young nobles who had likely been holding swords since childhood—seemed almost relieved. Some even smiled smugly, clearly looking forward to an easy victory.
The commoners in Class E, on the other hand, exchanged worried glances. Their grips on the practice swords were uncertain, their stances stiff.
But I couldn't help the small smirk forming on my face.
'That won't last long.'
I already knew what was coming next.
"Harsen from Class C and Edmund from Class E—step forward!"
The professor's voice rang across the training hall.
I shifted slightly where I stood, positioning myself so I had a clear view—not of the duel, but of her.
Elena.
I wanted to see her reaction.
On the platform, the two students approached from opposite ends, wooden swords in hand. Harsen carried himself like someone born into swordsmanship—his posture relaxed, but confident. Edmund, by contrast, moved stiffly, his unease almost visible.
When they took their positions, Professor Dominic raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Professor Dominic's sharp voice rang through the training hall, echoing off the stone walls.
The moment the word left his mouth, both duelists sprang into motion.
Harsen charged first, gripping his sword with both hands and swinging it down with all his strength. The air split with the force of his strike.
But Ed was calm. Effortless.
He tilted his blade upward and met the blow with a clean, metallic clash! The impact sent a ripple through the air, but Ed barely flinched. Instead, with a smooth twist of his wrist, he redirected Harsen's sword aside and countered with an upward slash.
"Ugh—!"
Harsen stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the gleaming arc of steel. His boots scraped against the floor as he tried to regain balance. But Ed didn't give him the chance.
Without hesitation, Ed pressed forward—his blade moving like a silver streak.
Downward. Sideways. Diagonal. Each swing flowed into the next with practiced precision, as if he were dancing rather than fighting.
"Urk!"
Harsen gritted his teeth, barely managing to block one strike before the next came crashing down. His movements grew sloppy—each step more desperate than the last.
The students watching from the stands began to murmur.
"He's incredible…"
"Is that really first-year level?"
"As expected of Ed!"
Their admiration filled the gymnasium, swelling with every clang of metal.
From the very beginning, the outcome was clear.
Ed was the protagonist—the hero blessed by talent and fate. His swordsmanship wasn't just precise; it was dazzling, elegant, and confident in a way that made the crowd hold their breath.
He was everything a main character should be.
Harsen, by comparison, looked utterly helpless.
It was only a matter of time before Ed finished the match.
I leaned back slightly, crossing my arms as I watched from the side.
'Good. Everything's going as it should.'
If the story unfolded correctly, this duel was the turning point. After witnessing Ed's overwhelming skill, Elena—the heroine—was supposed to take notice of him.
That was how it went in the webtoon.
Everything was lining up perfectly.
Or at least, it should have been.
"…Huh?"
My gaze drifted toward the audience where Elena sat, and my thoughts froze.
Her expression—
It wasn't admiration.
Her brows were slightly furrowed, her lips pressed into a faint, unreadable line.
'This isn't right.'
In the original story, this was the moment she was supposed to be captivated—awed by Ed's brilliance and strength. But instead, she looked… indifferent. Almost disappointed.
What was that expression supposed to mean?
I glanced back at Ed, who was still gracefully overwhelming his opponent. He was fighting just as perfectly as he had in the comic. Everything—from his stance to his timing—was spot on.
So why—why did Elena look like that?
Elena's eyes followed the duel unfolding before us, her gaze sharp and unwavering.
But there was something off about her expression. It wasn't fascination, nor the spark of admiration I had expected. Instead, her face was composed—calm, almost analytical, like she was assessing the fight rather than enjoying it.
That wasn't right.
In the comic, this was the exact moment she was supposed to start showing interest in Ed. After witnessing his swordsmanship, she was drawn to him—her curiosity marking the start of their connection.
Yet the Elena in front of me was completely different.
Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her brows slightly furrowed, her entire focus locked on the match—but not in the way it should've been. There was no hint of wonder, no trace of emotion in her eyes. Just cold observation.
Something isn't following the script.
"Hm? What's wrong?" she asked suddenly, turning her head toward me. Her voice was calm, casual, but her gaze… it was sharp enough to make me hesitate.
"N-Nothing," I said quickly, forcing a smile.
She blinked once, then turned back to the arena as if nothing had happened.
But that brief moment was enough for me to confirm it—this wasn't how it was supposed to go.
Elena wasn't reacting like she did in the comic.
No faint blush. No curious glances toward Ed. No interest at all.
The thread that was supposed to tie her story to his… wasn't forming.
Something had changed.
And if Elena's behavior had already shifted this much, then the entire flow of the story might soon start to unravel.
I leaned back slightly in my seat, crossing my arms as I watched the duel continue below.
"…This is bad," I muttered under my breath.