* * *
“Alright, everyone, take your seats quickly. First period is about to start.”
Ruite organized his books and materials with a listless touch.
Glancing sideways, he saw Chester staring straight ahead, not offering even a single look.
‘If I feel this uncomfortable, Chester must feel even worse.’
Just then, Chester turned his head. Ruite failed to look away in time, and their eyes met.
“You were praying quite fervently earlier.”
“I was. It was the first time in my life I’ve ever prayed, but I didn’t realize it would be so ineffective.”
“……”
Ruite rubbed his chin.
He wasn’t exactly a believer in gods, and he wondered if he was being punished for that.
His cheek prickled; Chester was still staring at him with a frigid expression.
Clearly, the man despised being seatmates.
It was bad enough having a marriage partner forced on him by his family, but having to stay in such close proximity even at the academy must be incredibly stressful.
“Since it’s Professor Harold, don’t you think he’ll suddenly announce another seat swap? I’ll pray harder then. Just trust me.”
Despite the assurance, Chester’s gaze remained unchanged.
At that moment, Colin, who was now seated in front of Ruite, abruptly turned around.
“Rui, we’re sitting front-to-back this time?”
“Looks like it.”
Colin was the first classmate Ruite had been paired with back in the second year.
He was one of the few friends Ruite spoke with frequently in class.
With his diligent and kind nature, he was nearly as popular as Chester.
“I was disappointed because we haven’t sat near each other since we were split up, Rui. This is great.”
“Yeah. It’s nice to be close this time.”
Harold stepped up to the podium, announcing he had a few light notices to share.
The noisy classroom hushed instantly, and Colin turned back around.
Throughout it all, Chester remained expressionless, sitting with his back straight as if listening intently to Harold’s every word.
“Rui? Is that what they call you?”
“Huh?”
Ruite had been feeling relieved that at least Colin was nearby, but a voice suddenly drifted from his side.
Chester was still staring forward, but he had directed the question at Ruite.
“Well, yeah. Colin calls me that often.”
It was common to shorten names into nicknames or terms of endearment.
“How childish.”
Ruite rested his chin on his hand and gave a casual, “Is that so?”
He only hoped Harold’s boring announcements would end as quickly as possible.
At Whitmore, the Magic and Swordsmanship departments split their time between theory and practical application.
Practical lessons usually took place in the training halls, and today’s first period was Mana Control—a basic but mandatory course for every grade.
Students in the Magic Department are born with a special power called mana and the internal organs to circulate it.
Their skill levels vary wildly based on how they release and manifest that power.
During Mana Control, “Mana Practice Swords” (wooden swords capable of absorbing mana) are used.
The method is simple: maintain a constant flow of mana into the wooden sword while sparring.
The most crucial part is ensuring the amount of mana does not fluctuate.
Simply put, the goal is to teach the skill of drawing out mana while keeping the output perfectly steady.
Inside the training hall where the practice was in full swing, everyone was standing slack-jawed, unable to take their eyes off Chester.
Not only was the amount of mana he injected into his wooden sword perfectly constant, but he also suppressed his sparring partner with clean, flawless movements.
Professor Neo, who was in charge of this lecture, looked at Chester with satisfaction.
Chester wasn’t a celebrity just because of his looks or his aura; his outstanding talent played a huge part.
It was rumored that his natural mana capacity was “blessed,” and his ability to manipulate it was superb.
He truly lived up to his title as the top student of the Magic Department.
“Alright, stop.”
At Neo’s command, Magnus—who had been thoroughly beaten by Chester—joined the standby group, drenched in sweat.
“Chester, your condition is excellent today. Want to go one more round?”
“I don’t mind, sir.”
“Good. Then……”
As Neo scanned the group sitting in a circle, everyone was busy looking away.
The students knew Chester’s skill all too well and were clearly desperate to avoid sparring with him.
“Everyone avoiding eye contact? Such a lack of spirit… Fine! You, the one who is Chester’s seatmate. Come out.”
“……Colin, tell him I fainted.”
“I think that’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you?”
As Colin laughed awkwardly, Ruite—peeking over Colin’s shoulder—let out a deep, heavy sigh.
His classmates were all staring holes through him.
Magnus even gave a mischievous grin, as if saying, ‘Now it’s your turn to suffer.’
“Ruite, isn’t it? Get out here.”
“Yes, sir……”
Talk about terrible luck.
Ruite sighed again as he picked up a wooden sword and stepped forward.
His feet felt like lead as he walked toward the stage.
“Now, the rules are simple.”
Professor Neo began explaining the basic principles of the spar according to the curriculum.
“It ends when one side is incapacitated or after a certain amount of time. Even if this is a practical lesson, this isn’t a game. I won’t tolerate going easy on each other or half-hearted efforts due to friendship or any other reason. You know the most important thing is keeping the mana flow steady, right? If you understand, channel your mana.”
Ruite took his stance with a dazed face, gripping his sword tightly.
Chester did the same.
A faint light shimmered around their wooden swords.
“You. Do it right.”
“Huh?”
Before Neo could signal the start, Chester spoke.
“I’m saying don’t hold back for some pathetic reason, no matter who your opponent is.”
Chester knew.
He knew how Ruite looked at him, what Ruite felt—even if Ruite acted otherwise or pretended to be shy.
Furthermore, when the arranged marriage was being discussed between the families, Chester had been vehemently opposed, but Ruite had been delighted.
Therefore, it was obvious how someone harboring such feelings would act in a training spar where someone could get hurt.
In fact, back in the first year, a classmate who had once confessed to Chester would intentionally lose or attack half-heartedly every time they sparred.
“Yeah, got it. I won’t hold back.”
Ruite nodded immediately.
At that moment, the command to start left Neo’s mouth.
Chester kicked off the ground and charged instantly.
Ruite took a defensive stance, and a small spark flew as the wooden swords collided.
Chester applied pressure to his right foot, pushing his sword at an angle, but Ruite hopped back to create distance.
Neo watched with his senses heightened, focusing on whether the mana control of both students remained steady.
This time, Ruite attacked first.
He ran forward and, the moment he closed the distance, crouched low to swing his sword at Chester’s legs.
However, Chester—having anticipated the move—propped his sword down like a cane to block the strike.
From there, the exchanges grew more frequent.
Overall, Chester was clearly superior, but Ruite defended well and showed good intuition for targeting openings.
Just as Professor Neo was starting to wear a satisfied smile again, Ruite was beginning to feel like quitting.
He was holding his own, but as expected, Chester’s wooden sword felt heavy and unusually powerful.
‘Is he the only one using a different sword?’
Ruite even began to wonder.
“I believe I told you not to hold back?”
A sudden strike pushed Ruite back significantly. Sweat was pouring down his face.
‘How long has it been since I’ve sweated like this?’
Ruite caught his breath and pushed his hair back, revealing his forehead.
‘It should be almost time. I just have to last until then.’
Ruite blocked another one of Chester’s attacks.
The swords clashed in mid-air once more, creating an even stronger spark than before.
As their swords locked, their faces were forced close together.
Chester had sparred twice in a row, yet he looked perfectly fine.
‘Is this the ‘Protagonist’s Perk’?’
Ruite’s breathing was ragged.
A drop of sweat rolled from his forehead, slid down his jawline, and fell to the floor with a thud.
At that moment, a crack appeared in Chester’s stoic expression.
Simultaneously, Ruite felt the pressure behind Chester’s sword waver slightly.
‘An opening.’
Sensing it instinctively, Ruite pushed Chester’s sword aside and tightened his grip.
Before Neo, who had sensed something, could intervene, Ruite struck Chester squarely in the ribs.
Thwack!
The dull sound echoed, and the students’ eyes widened in shock.
The room went silent.
“Spar over! Ruite, your mana output spiked just now.”
“Huh? Did it?”
Neo began a lecture on the spot.
Ruite scratched his cheek and looked at Chester, who was clutching his side.
His piercing gaze seemed to ask, ‘How could you do that?’
“Sorry. I thought you’d dodge.”
Ruite laughed awkwardly, while Chester let out a breath of disbelief—half-sneer, half-sigh.
* * *
