The first problem with subtle interference was that it was only subtle if nobody important noticed.
The second problem was that nobles counted as important.
Cadet 317 became aware of the issue approximately twelve seconds after leaving the arena, when a tall second year in polished academy attire stepped directly into his path.
"You," the second year said pleasantly.
That was rarely a good opening.
"Yes," 317 replied with equal politeness.
"You are Cadet 317."
"I try to be."
The second year did not laugh. Tragic.
"House Velcrest requests a brief conversation."
Ah.
There it was.
He considered pretending to faint.
Unfortunately, he suspected that would only complicate things.
"Requests," he repeated.
"Yes."
The tone suggested it was less of a request and more of a scenic walk toward poor life choices.
He followed.
The noble balcony corridor was quieter than the rest of the arena. Thick carpets. Polished stone. The kind of place where conversations did not echo unless they were meant to.
A man stood near the railing overlooking the arena.
Mid thirties. Impeccable posture. Silver trimmed dark coat bearing the Velcrest crest.
He did not turn immediately.
That was intentional.
After a moment, he spoke.
"You are not affiliated with any noble house."
"No, sir."
"You did not place any wagers on the duel."
"No, sir."
"You have no documented grievances against House Velcrest."
"Not that I am aware of."
The man finally turned.
Sharp eyes. Calm smile. The kind that measured people the way merchants measured grain.
"Then tell me," the noble said mildly, "why did you release mana into the arena floor?"
Straight to it.
Well.
That was efficient.
317 blinked once.
"I released mana into the arena floor?"
The noble's smile did not shift.
"The eastern quadrant registered a minor fluctuation at the moment my candidate lost his footing."
That explained it.
Advanced detection arrays.
Of course the nobles had them.
He folded his hands loosely behind his back.
"I am a first year with extremely poor mana control," he said. "If I had released anything into the arena, it would have exploded dramatically. Possibly into myself."
A brief pause.
The noble studied him.
"You are suggesting coincidence."
"I am suggesting incompetence."
That earned the faintest flicker of amusement.
"Interesting," the noble murmured.
A soft chime echoed in 317's mind.
Social Risk DetectedHostility Probability 34 percent
Thirty four percent.
Not great.
Not fatal.
Yet.
The noble stepped closer.
"You are aware," he said calmly, "that interfering in academy evaluations carries consequences."
"Yes, sir."
"And yet you maintain you did not interfere."
"I maintain that if I had attempted interference, it would not have been subtle."
That was technically true.
The noble regarded him for a long moment.
Then, unexpectedly, he chuckled.
"Very well, Cadet 317."
That was not the outcome he expected.
"I will assume coincidence," the noble continued. "For now."
For now.
Which translated to we are watching you.
"However," the noble added, "be mindful of where your… incompetence manifests in the future."
Message received.
"Yes, sir."
The noble turned away dismissively.
The second year escort gestured toward the exit.
Conversation over.
He walked back into the open courtyard with steady steps.
Only once he was out of sight did he exhale.
"Thirty four percent hostility," he muttered. "I am making friends already."
A notification flickered.
Faction Awareness IncreasedHouse Velcrest has marked you as an anomalySurvival Probability unchanged
"Unchanged?" he repeated quietly. "After that performance?"
The system did not provide encouragement.
Of course it did not.
He crossed the courtyard slowly, mind racing.
This was earlier than expected.
In the original timeline, House Velcrest had focused solely on the silver haired prodigy. He had not existed as a factor.
Now he did.
Small changes.
Ripple effects.
He nearly collided with someone again.
Silver hair.
He was beginning to suspect the academy had only one other student.
"You were summoned," she said calmly.
"Word travels quickly."
"I saw."
Of course she did.
He studied her expression.
"You are not injured."
"My shoulder is bruised."
"That is better than broken ribs."
She went still.
Very still.
"That is an oddly specific comparison," she said.
He smiled lightly.
"I have vivid imagination."
She held his gaze for a long second.
"You were questioned," she said.
"Yes."
"Because of me."
"Because of politics," he corrected gently.
Silence stretched between them.
Then she spoke again, lower this time.
"You should not involve yourself further."
He blinked.
"Is that concern?"
"It is logic," she replied. "You are weak."
Direct. As always.
"I am aware," he said. "I have mirrors."
"House Velcrest does not tolerate embarrassment."
"And you do?"
Her eyes sharpened slightly.
"I tolerate results."
He considered that.
"Then today was satisfactory."
A faint pause.
Then, almost reluctantly, she nodded once.
"It was."
The moment lingered.
Students passed around them, whispering about the duel, about the transfer student's stumble, about Velcrest's visible irritation.
Rumors were forming already.
She shifted her grip on her sword.
"The dungeon midterm," she said, "is more dangerous than first years realize."
"I am aware."
"You should not rely on chance."
"I rarely do."
She studied him carefully.
"You do not behave like someone with twelve percent odds."
He nearly choked.
"Excuse me?"
"You act as if you know outcomes."
His heart thudded once.
Careful.
Very careful.
"I prefer preparation," he said evenly. "Preparation often resembles foresight."
She did not look convinced.
But she did not press further.
Instead, she said something unexpected.
"If House Velcrest targets you directly, inform me."
He stared at her.
"Are you threatening a noble house on my behalf?"
"I am correcting imbalance."
That was her version of loyalty.
Blunt.
Practical.
Dangerous.
"I appreciate the offer," he said lightly. "But I would prefer not to escalate into a civil dispute before lunch."
A faint exhale left her nose.
Almost a suppressed laugh.
"Improve," she said again. "Before the dungeon."
"I am working on it."
She began to walk away.
Then paused.
"You interfered precisely," she added quietly. "Not incompetently."
And then she left.
He stood there for a moment.
That had not been part of the script.
A new notification appeared.
Heroine Trust Level IncreasedHouse Velcrest Suspicion Level ModerateDivergence 3.4 percentSurvival Probability 18 percent
Eighteen.
He let out a slow breath.
Two percent from a duel.
Two percent from surviving noble interrogation.
At this rate, he might reach twenty before the dungeon.
Assuming he did not get stabbed first.
Across the courtyard, he noticed something else.
The future Blade Saint stood near the training grounds.
Watching.
Not her.
Not the nobles.
Him.
Their eyes met again.
No smile.
No hostility.
Just calculation.
Plot armor meeting plot error.
A small chill ran down his spine.
"Fantastic," he muttered softly. "Now the protagonist is curious."
The system flickered once more.
WarningPrimary Narrative Focus Shifting
He closed his eyes briefly.
He had wanted to move between important pieces.
Apparently, he had stepped onto the board instead.
And the game was beginning to notice.