“Alright, everyone, take your seats. First period is about to start.”
Ruite listlessly organized his books and materials. When he glanced to the side, Chester was staring straight ahead without even sparing him a look. I’m this uncomfortable, so he must feel even worse.
At that moment, Chester turned his head. Ruite failed to look away in time, and their eyes met.
“You were praying pretty hard earlier.”
“I was. It was my first time ever praying, and I didn’t expect it to fail so badly.”
“……”
Ruite rubbed his chin. He wasn’t the type to believe in gods in the first place, but maybe this was punishment for that. Just then, he felt a prickling sensation along the side of his face. Chester was still staring at him, expression cold.
It seemed he truly disliked becoming seatmates with him. It was already bad enough that their families had arbitrarily decided on a political marriage partner, and now they had to stay in close proximity even within the academy. That must be incredibly stressful.
“Since it’s Professor Harold, maybe he’ll suddenly decide to change seatmates again. I’ll try praying harder next time. Just trust me.”
But even after that, Chester’s gaze didn’t change. At that moment, Colin—who now sat in front of Ruite—suddenly turned around.
“Rui, looks like we’re sitting front and back this time?”
“Yeah.”
Colin had been his first seatmate when they were assigned to the second-year class. He was also someone Ruite talked to often. With his diligent and kind personality, he was almost as popular as Chester.
“I was a bit disappointed we never got seated near each other again after being separated. This worked out well.”
“Yeah. It’s nice this time.”
At that moment, Professor Harold stepped up to the teacher’s desk, saying he had some announcements to make. The previously noisy classroom quickly fell silent, and Colin turned back around. Meanwhile, Chester remained expressionless as ever. Sitting perfectly upright, he appeared to be listening intently.
“Rui? Do people call you that too?”
“Huh?”
Just as Ruite was feeling relieved that at least Colin was nearby, a voice suddenly came from beside him. Without even turning his head, Chester asked the question while keeping his gaze forward.
“Well, yeah. Colin calls me that sometimes.”
It wasn’t unusual for people to shorten names into nicknames.
“How childish.”
Resting his chin on his hand, Ruite replied casually, “Is it?” He simply hoped Harold would hurry up and finish this tedious announcement.
***
At Witmore Academy, the Department of Magic and the Department of Swordsmanship divided their curriculum into theoretical and practical classes due to the nature of their disciplines. Practical lessons were usually held at the training ground, and today’s first period was one of the most fundamental practical classes—magic control, a course every year had to take without exception.
Students in the Department of Magic were born with a special power called magic within their bodies, along with an organ that allowed them to control it. Their skill levels varied greatly depending on how well they could draw out and utilize that power.
During magic control class, practice magic swords capable of being infused with magic were used. The method was simple: maintain a set amount of magic infused into the sword while sparring with an opponent. The most important part was keeping the amount of infused magic consistent without fluctuation.
In short, the goal was to teach students how to draw out magic while simultaneously controlling its output at a steady level.
And right now, inside the training ground where practice was in full swing, everyone was staring at Chester in stunned silence.
Not only was the amount of magic he infused into his practice sword perfectly consistent, but he also subdued his opponent cleanly without the slightest disturbance.
Professor Neo, who was in charge of today’s lesson, watched him with a satisfied smile. Chester’s reputation wasn’t just due to his looks or the aura he carried—his exceptional skill played a major role. Rumor had it that the sheer amount of magic he was born with was almost a blessing, and his control over it was equally impressive.
He truly lived up to being at the top of every subject in the Department of Magic.
“Alright, that’s enough.”
At Neo’s signal, Magnus—who had just been thoroughly beaten by Chester—returned to the waiting group, drenched in sweat.
“Chester’s in good condition today. Want to go another round?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Good. Then…”
As Neo looked over the group sitting in a circle, everyone quickly averted their eyes. Those who knew Chester’s ability all too well clearly wanted to avoid sparring with him.
“Everyone’s looking away. What a lack of spirit… Alright! Chester’s seatmate, step forward.”
“…Colin, tell him I collapsed.”
“That might be a bit difficult.”
Colin laughed awkwardly, and Ruite, who peeked his head out from behind his shoulder, let out a deep sigh. All their classmates were staring straight at him. Magnus was even grinning mischievously, as if to say now it’s your turn.
“Ruite, is it? Hurry up and come out.”
“…Yes.”
Just my luck. Ruite let out another heavy sigh, picked up a practice sword, and stepped forward. His feet felt heavy as he walked toward the designated sparring area.
“Alright, the rules are simple.”
Professor Neo explained the basic principles of the sparring exercise according to class rules.
“It ends when one side is incapacitated or when time runs out. Even if this is part of practice, it’s not a game. I won’t tolerate holding back or slacking off just because you’re close or for any other reason. And you all know the most important part is maintaining a consistent amount of magic, right? If you understand, start infusing your magic.”
Ruite took his stance absentmindedly, tightening his grip on the practice sword as he infused magic into it. Chester did the same. A faint glow flickered around their blades.
“You. Do it properly.”
“Huh?”
Just before Neo signaled the start, Chester spoke.
“I’m saying don’t half-ass it for some pathetic reason, no matter who your opponent is.”
Chester knew. Even though Ruite tried to act otherwise—pretending not to, even acting shy at times—he knew exactly what kind of feelings and gaze Ruite directed at him. And when the topic of a political marriage between their families had come up, Chester had strongly opposed it, while Ruite had been pleased.
So in a sparring session where injuries were possible, it was obvious how someone who harbored feelings for him would behave.
In fact, there had been a classmate in first year who had confessed to him, and during sparring, that person would deliberately lose or attack halfheartedly.
“Yeah, got it. I won’t hold back.”
Ruite nodded immediately. At the same time, Neo gave the signal to begin.
Chester kicked off the ground and charged forward instantly. Ruite immediately took a defensive stance, and their practice swords collided with a small spark. Chester pushed forward at an angle with force in his right foot, and Ruite lightly leapt back to create distance.
Neo heightened his senses to the maximum, carefully observing whether both students were maintaining consistent magic output.
This time, Ruite moved first. He dashed forward, and the moment he closed the distance, he lowered his body sharply and swung his sword toward Chester’s legs. But Chester had already anticipated it, planting his practice sword like a staff to block the attack.
After that, their exchanges grew more frequent. Overall, Chester clearly held the advantage, but Ruite defended well and showed good instinct in exploiting openings to counterattack.
As a pleased smile appeared once more on Neo’s lips, Ruite, on the other hand, was starting to feel like he’d had enough. He was managing to keep up for now, but Chester was still Chester—his strikes were heavy and overwhelmingly forceful.
Is his practice sword different from everyone else’s? The thought even crossed his mind.
“I told you not to half-ass it.”
A sudden attack sent Ruite stumbling backward. Sweat poured down like rain. How long has it been since I’ve worked up this much of a sweat? He steadied his slightly labored breathing and ran a hand through his hair. As his hair was pushed back messily, his smooth forehead was fully revealed.
Time should be almost up by now. I’ll just hold out until then.
Ruite blocked another incoming strike from Chester. Their swords clashed again in midair, this time producing a stronger spark than before.
As the distance between their blades closed, so did the distance between their faces. Chester had already fought one match and was now in his second, yet he looked completely fine. Is this the protagonist’s advantage?
Ruite’s breathing grew slightly heavier than before. At that moment, a bead of sweat slid down from his forehead, tracing along his jawline before dripping to the ground.
And in that instant, something shifted in Chester’s expression as he looked at him. At the same time, Ruite felt a slight drop in strength from Chester’s blade.
An opening.
Sensing it instinctively, Ruite pushed Chester’s sword aside and tightened his grip. Before Neo could intervene, having noticed something, Ruite struck Chester in the side.
Thud—!
A dull sound rang out, and their classmates’ eyes widened in shock. Silence quickly fell over the training ground.
“Sparring, end! Ruite, the amount of magic you used just now increased too much.”
“Huh? Did it?”
Neo immediately launched into a barrage of scolding. Scratching his cheek, Ruite glanced at Chester, who was lightly holding his side. That sharp glare—somehow, it looked like it was asking, How could you do that?
“Sorry. I thought you’d dodge.”
When Ruite let out an awkward laugh, Chester exhaled a breath that was somewhere between a scoff and a hollow chuckle.