The next day of classes began with a soft knock pulling me out of sleep. As always, it was Sylvia who woke me, her voice a quiet, steady bell. Today's schedule: Military Work. Not my favorite, but necessary.
Our carriages rolled side-by-side toward the Imperial Academy. Outside, a sea of students moved like a restless tide, and as we slipped through the gates, the murmurs began. The endless, fluttering whispers.
They're still curious about the princess's face. They're still looking for her.
We made our way to the classroom. Once again, Prince Ashen and I shared the subject. Military Work, the professor decreed, required a theoretical lecture before touching anything physical. Same tiered room. Same seating arrangement. But a scattering of new faces among the familiar ones.
The room buzzed with anticipation. Then, the doors opened.
Prince Ashen entered.
"Omg, Prince Kaein…" "He's so handsome…" "I wonder if he's attending the academy with the princess…"
The air shifted, the murmurs swelling into a low hum. He strode to his seat, each step deliberate, steady—and his eyes locked on me.
Everyone else bowed. I didn't.
I felt the tension coil tight in my chest. Not today. I couldn't deal with him today—not after yesterday's close call.
Ashen had barely settled in the seat beside me when the door creaked open again. A ripple went through the room; eyes turned, whispers stirred.
The Flavian twins entered.
My brother, Zein, leaned slightly toward Ashen, murmuring something only we in the back could hear. "Mr. and Mrs. Flavian's twins… Cristoff Flavian and Cristin Flavian."
I caught every word. Was Zein investigating the twins, or was that simply a polite introduction? Either way, it felt too deliberate. Too sharp.
I glanced sideways at Sylvia and Kalix. One look was enough—they already knew this would be tonight's conversation. They offered me the smallest of bows, subtle enough that no one else noticed. I returned the gesture with a flicker of my gaze.
The twins walked with poise and confidence, seating themselves in the third row—perfectly within my line of sight. Something told me I should watch them.
While we waited for the professor, I noticed something strange. One of the twins—Cristin—kept glancing in our direction. Once, twice, thrice… until finally, on her third glance, she rose from her seat.
My breath stilled as she approached. She stopped right in front of us, then bowed low.
"Cristin of House Flavian, Your Highness," she introduced herself with practiced grace.
Ashen stood as well, returning the bow with equal formality.
"Kaein Ashen Vesperianth," he replied smoothly, a rare smile breaking across his usually cold features.
I kept my gaze locked on the board, pretending not to notice, but inside, I was reeling. So… he's like this with everyone? Clingy? Formal? I had thought I was the only one for whom he made exceptions.
But why did Ashen bow back? Why did he smile? His aura was always distant, commanding—yet here he was, softening before Cristin.
The thoughts tangled like a storm in my head. My chest felt heavy, my composure slipping like sand through my fingers. Cristin truly was beautiful. But that wasn't why my mood was sour. The smile—that rare, genuine smile—had been meant for her. I hated the sudden, ugly possessiveness that tightened my chest. Why do I care? The question burned, unanswered.
The professor entered the room. Cristin held a final, lingering look on Prince Ashen, as if there was something unspoken between them, before retreating. The nobles, who had been surprised by the interaction, finally settled.
For the entire lecture, I kept my mouth shut. I didn't know why my chest tightened every time my thoughts circled back to that exchange between Ashen and Lady Flavian. Even when Ashen leaned toward me, quietly asking what was wrong, I ignored him. My silence was my shield.
An hour crawled by before I managed to steady myself enough to focus. After the discussion ended, we were instructed to change into military uniforms and proceed to the training grounds.
As we walked down the long corridor, my steps felt heavier with each stride. My mood clung to me like a storm cloud. Even Sylvia and Kalix couldn't help but notice.
"Seina, are you alright? Is something bothering you?" Sylvia asked gently, her eyes searching mine.
I looked at her but said nothing.
Then Kalix spoke, blunt as ever. "Is this about earlier? About Lady Flavian and Prince Kaein's… little interaction?"
The words struck like an arrow. I snapped my gaze to him, my eyes sharp and cold.
Kalix stiffened, then smirked faintly to cover his awareness. "It's not even winter, so why does it suddenly feel so cold?" he muttered, striding ahead of us.
After changing, we filed out into the vast military grounds. The sun was sharp overhead, glinting off polished Armor and steel practice weapons.
"Form into groups of five!" the professor's voice cut through the chatter.
Names were called, family after family, until—
"House of Delian. House of Elyndralis. House of Medieval. House of Delavine, and House of De Camira."
The four of us moved toward the space assigned to our group, the third circle on the training ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Lady De Camira walking a few paces behind us, hesitant, almost as if the air itself was pressing her down.
I slowed my stride until I fell in step beside her. "Hi," I said gently.
Her head lifted just slightly, eyes wide as if she hadn't expected anyone to speak to her. "H-hi," she whispered back, her voice fragile but threaded with surprise.
Before I could say more, a sharp voice lashed out across the field, dripping with venom.
"Oh my. A loser walking with the nobles."
The words sliced through the air. I saw her flinch, her shoulders curling inward as though she could fold herself small enough to vanish. This wasn't mere rudeness; it was a political attack on a member of the Emperor's scholarship class. My jaw tightened, and a cold, protective fury—far sharper than my earlier jealousy—pricked beneath my skin.
I stopped immediately. My mind, which had been fixated on Ashen just moments before, snapped into focus. I turned and walked straight toward their group space.
"Oh, the ignorant nobles," I stated, my voice dangerously calm.
The declaration was loud enough to carry. I felt the heat of every head turning—including Ashen's group. Zein and Lady De Camira stared at me, eyes wide with alarm, while Sylvia and Kalix remained perfectly still, radiating calculated calm.
"What a freak!" one noble girl shrieked.
I ignored her, letting my contempt speak for itself. Fortunately, the professor cut short any further confrontation, announcing a one-hour period for preparation.
We retreated to the chairs marking our designated space. Since our group had limited seating, Zein immediately offered his chair to Lady De Camira, seating himself on the ground instead.
"Please, use this chair," Zein told her.
"Th—thank you," she stammered, gratefully accepting the offer.
While Zein, Lady De Camira, and I watched Kalix patiently teaching Sylvia a military stance, my curiosity finally got the better of me. I turned toward her.
"Did the Emperor grant you a scholarship?" I asked.
Her hands fidgeted in her lap. "Ye-yes… I passed the examination," she replied, her voice timid but steady enough to carry.
"Wow," I said, grinning, genuine excitement bubbling in my tone. "You must be so smart. I hope you enjoy your time here at the Imperial Academy—and live your life to the fullest while you're here."
For a moment, she only stared at me. The shock was plain on her face, as if she couldn't believe someone of my supposed stature would greet her with such warmth.
She suddenly stood up and bowed deeply, her voice trembling yet loud enough to draw every eye in our little circle. "Thank you very much! I never believed you would be this kind," she exclaimed.
Both Zein and I froze, equally stunned by her sudden outburst.
Before the silence could stretch further, Kalix spoke up in his calm, straightforward tone. "Lady De Camira, would you like me to teach you as well? That way, you'll be prepared for later."
Her head snapped toward him, eyes wide. "YES, PLEASE! Thank you very much!" she said in a rush, bowing once again, her gratitude almost overwhelming in its sincerity.
I actually expected she'd be like that.
An hour slipped by, and at last the professor's voice rang out across the training ground.
"The battle rounds begin now!"
Excitement buzzed through the air as the first groups clashed, steel clanging against steel. We waited for our turn, the anticipation crawling beneath my skin like restless fire.
My gaze, unbidden, drifted toward Ashen's group. Cristin Flavian clung to him like a shadow—chatting, laughing, her words flowing endlessly as though she could not breathe without his attention. And the worst part? He looked like he was actually enjoying it.
Heat prickled across my chest. I narrowed my eyes at him, cutting him with the sharpest glare I could muster. His reaction was immediate—he startled, as if he hadn't expected it, his expression betraying a flicker of confusion. Good. Let him stew in it.
The first match ended. The next was called.
The professor raised his voice again: "The Prince will choose which group he wishes to join."
I expected him to choose ours... but then chaos cut through my thoughts—a commotion at the edge of the grounds. One of the Flavian twin's group members was being rushed toward the private clinic. Their group had just been reduced to four.
"My apologies," the professor announced. "They require one more member. Prince Kaein Ashen Vesperianth will join them."
Minutes passed before the clash of steel pulled me back to the arena. The match was called: Zein versus one of Ashen's team members.
I leaned toward my brother as he rose from his seat, my voice low but firm. "Don't die," I muttered, more command than jest.
He gave me a sidelong look, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, before striding onto the battleground.
My eyes wandered back toward Ashen's group, and to my surprise, he was no longer seated beside Lady Flavian. He stood apart, posture stiff, his whole demeanor screaming avoidance.
Our gazes collided. I let a small smile slip onto my lips.
Ashen smiled back—but it wasn't his usual composed, princely smile. No, this one looked almost… nervous. As if my smile carried a weight he wasn't prepared to bear.
Minutes passed, the crack of gunfire weaving into the rhythm of the duel. Zein stood tall, his blade flashing with practiced precision.
And just as I expected—he won. Clean, decisive, no question about it.
"The next match will be Seina of House Delian and Cristin of House Flavian," the professor announced.
Oh. So she's my opponent. She wasn't supposed to be. Something about this feels… off. But what convenient timing, huh.
As I walked forward, my eyes caught Cristin's expression. A smirk tugged at her lips, playful yet mocking, like I'd already lost before stepping into the arena. As if just existing near her so-called love interest was some crime I committed.
I tilted my head, biting back a laugh. Really? That's the face you're making? Over a seatmate?
I finally reached down and grabbed the sword designated for my turn. It was heavier than it should have been. I initially thought, as I always did, that it was a mere practice blade, one that wouldn't kill or deeply wound.
But the weight was wrong.
I lifted the blade and met Lady Flavian's gaze. She was watching me, and across the distance, a faint, chilling smirk touched her lips—a look that said she knew exactly what was happening. This was the key: in the previous match, the swords were blunted. But this one...
I raised the sword high above my head, turning the flat of the steel to catch the sharp midday sun.
The glint was immediate, hard, and undeniable.
It was a live blade.
A wave of visible shock rippled through the onlookers. Zein, Ashen, and Lady De Camira were visibly shaken. Even the other training groups reacted, their murmurs growing loud with alarm. Only Sylvia and Kalix remained calm; their subtle nods confirmed they had suspected this all along but couldn't prove it until now.
Lady Flavian's smirk faltered, replaced by a momentary look of genuine surprise. She hadn't expected me to know how to test the blade, or perhaps, she hadn't expected me to call out the danger publicly.
My realization solidified into cold fury. This wasn't about training; this was political theatre with real stakes. She had engineered this danger, and her motives were clear: she either wanted to become a victim, hoping the Prince—my future husband—would rush to her side and publicly rescue her, or she was attempting to prove something about her own fierce capability, hoping to impress him with her mettle.
Whatever her intention, the audacious use of real steel for a class rivalry was a declaration of war. My eyes locked onto the Prince's, daring him to intervene.
The match started, and I simply stood there, waiting for her to attack.
As she ran toward me, blade raised, I instantly saw the truth: she wasn't that good. She was too weak for me, her movements telegraphed, lacking any true prediction.
She lunged, intending to stab me with the real steel. To her surprise, I moved backward just a hair, then took a swift step to the right. Since she was right-handed, her sword sliced past, close to my left. Her blade didn't even touch me.
In the next breath, my sword was at her neck.
I felt the urge—the cold, primal instinct—to follow through, but I didn't. I held the blade steady against her skin, not wounding her, not drawing blood, but holding her completely immobile.
She froze. The entire crowd was stunned. She was too stunned to speak, her eyes wide with disbelief.
I leaned in, dropping my voice to a dangerous, low murmur meant only for her.
"I don't know what you are plotting, Lady Flavian, but I know one thing: My Prince would never love you as you love him."
I stepped back, deliberately disengaging my blade. And bowed to everyone.
Since it was already time for the next subject, I didn't hesitate. I turned and walked out, leaving her rooted in the center of the training ground. My team immediately followed my lead. Zein, efficient as ever, ran ahead to Prince Ashen, offered a brief bow and farewell, and was quickly granted permission to leave.
As we made our quick escape, the professor's voice boomed across the training ground, cutting through the stunned silence.
"The match is over! House Delian succeeds and advances to the next round!"
He paused, then added: "The remaining matches will be continued by scheduling. Dismissed!"
The announcement officially cemented my victory and my dramatic exit. We didn't wait to see Lady Flavian's reaction, instead quickening our pace toward the exit, leaving the shocked whispers and the defeated noble girl behind.