Whispers in the Academy
Back in the Knight Academy, Videl was pointed toward her room in the dormitory provided for her.
The corridor stretched long and quiet beneath high stone arches, lantern light flickering against polished floors. Outside the tall windows, the evening sky was deepening into indigo, and sowhere beyond the walls, the training grounds still carried faint echoes of clashing steel.
She was tired.
Not the kind of tired that ca from swinging a sword.
This was the tired that ca from being watched.
Her first day had been overwhelming.
From the mont her swordsmanship had been ranked—three Saint-ranked swordsn observing her every movent, their sharp eyes dissecting each step—her na had begun to circulate like wildfire.
Master rank.
Swordmaiden.
Miraculous talent.
The whispers followed her down every hallway.
Students stared openly. So did not even pretend to look away when her blue sapphire eyes t theirs.
The young masters ca first.
One after another.
A tall boy with carefully styled hair approached her near the courtyard fountain, offering a polite bow.
"Lady Videl," he had said smoothly, "your performance earlier was extraordinary. I would be honored if you would allow to spar with you soti."
She smiled faintly. Just enough to be courteous.
"Thank you. I’m still adjusting to the academy. Perhaps another ti."
Another followed in the library corridor.
"I heard your sword path is simple but deadly. Is it true you trained in isolation? May I ask who your master was?"
She answered gently, vaguely. Never enough to invite more.
She knew her limits.
She was not interested in any boy.
Not when her heart already belonged elsewhere.
And she knew sothing else too—sothing darker, sothing she never said aloud.
If one of these boys tried sothing foolish... if one of them dared to push beyond courtesy...
Victor would not show rcy.
His temper, when provoked, was not loud. It was cold. Dominant. Absolute.
She had seen it.
And she would not let soone die simply because they mistook her politeness for invitation.
So she kept distance. Gentle. Firm. Controlled.
The young misses and noble ladies were worse.
They didn’t approach for her.
They approached for him.
Victor.
The na that had spread through the academy despite him not even being enrolled.
The story had traveled faster than wildfire—how he stood at the academy gates, how he defeated Albion, how even Principal Max had tried to recruit him.
Girls who weren’t even present that day had heard the story retold in exaggerated detail.
"He defeated Albion in one strike, they say!"
"They say he didn’t even use his full strength."
"Is he really that handso?"
"I heard his smile alone could make soone forget their na."
"And he’s powerful too? That’s unfair."
"Do you know him? Are you close to him?"
They crowded her between classes, pretending it was casual curiosity.
One particularly bold noble girl leaned close and asked softly, "Is Victor single?"
Videl’s fingers tightened slightly around the strap of her satchel.
She kept her voice calm. "That is his personal matter."
Another whispered, "Can you describe him? I heard his eyes are golden."
Golden.
The mory surfaced instantly—sharp features, black hair falling over intense golden eyes that held both warmth and danger.
She felt a strange mix of irritation and pride coil inside her.
Yes. He was handso.
Yes. His strength alone would attract admiration in this world where power defined worth.
But add charm. Add that confident half-smile.
He was dangerous to hearts.
"Victor is... himself," she answered simply. "Strong. Direct. That is all."
One girl had the audacity to ask, "Do you have a portrait of him?"
That nearly broke her composure.
Her smile froze for half a second before she recovered.
"No."
Inside, she was fuming.
Outside, she was composed.
Victor really is a chick magnet...
The thought made her lips twitch faintly.
Yet beneath the irritation, sothing warr lived.
The moon that all those girls wanted to reach—
That moon was hers.
Victor was her love.
And she was proud.
By the ti evening arrived, her patience had been tested more than her stamina ever had in combat.
The first day at the academy had not gone as she expected.
At this point, Videl just wanted to lie down in bed and rest for a while.
She finally reached her assigned dormitory room.
Taking a quiet breath, she pushed the door open.
Three other people were inside.
Her roommates.
The room itself was spacious by academy standards—four beds positioned neatly along the walls, wooden desks beneath tall windows, faint candlelight dancing across stone walls.
The mont the trio saw her, their reactions were different.
One girl, who had been eating bread while sitting cross-legged on her bed, dropped it entirely.
The bread fell to the floor.
She stared at Videl as if she had just witnessed a legend walk through the door.
Another girl looked at her with an intense glare.
Not hostile.
But sharp. Evaluating. Competitive.
The last one smiled and stood up imdiately, walking toward her with an easy confidence.
"You must be that girl who got a Master rank in swordsmanship," she said warmly. "Videl, right?"
She extended her hand.
"Allow to introduce myself and the others. I’m Niva."
Her long red hair shimred under the lantern light, red eyes bright with curiosity.
"That girl over there who dropped her bread is Kira," she added with a teasing glance. The silver-white-haired girl scrambled awkwardly to pick it up, cheeks faintly flushed.
"And the one glaring is Dira. Don’t mind her. That’s just her face."
Dira, with her yellow-blonde hair and sharp golden eyes, crossed her arms but didn’t deny it.
"It seems we’ll be roommates from today onwards."
Videl smiled politely and shook Niva’s hand.
"Nice to et you."
The mont introductions ended, the air shifted.
It was subtle.
But Videl felt it.
Niva’s eyes glead slightly.
Kira fidgeted.
Even Dira’s glare softened into sothing more... curious.
"Can we ask you sothing?" Kira blurted suddenly.
Videl exhaled internally.
Of course.
"It’s about Victor," Niva said, leaning slightly forward. "You were there at the academy gates, right?"
Dira added, "Is he really as strong as they say?"
Kira’s voice turned softer. "And... is he really that handso?"
There it is.
Videl resisted the urge to rub her temples.
I need to answer these three before I can sleep...
Outwardly, she remained patient.
"Yes. I was there."
Niva stepped closer. "How strong is he? Did he truly defeat Albion effortlessly?"
"Yes," Videl answered simply. "He did."
Dira narrowed her eyes. "What is his sword path like?"
"He doesn’t waste movent," she replied. "Every strike has purpose."
Kira hesitated before asking, "Does he smile often?"
Videl blinked once.
That question caught her off guard.
"...When he wants to."
Niva tilted her head. "Is he... the kind of man who would date soone from the academy?"
That one stung more than she expected.
She t Niva’s red gaze steadily.
"That depends on him."
Dira smirked faintly. "So he’s not attached?"
Videl’s fingers tightened slightly at her side.
"He values strength," she said calmly. "And loyalty."
Niva exchanged a quick glance with Kira.
Kira whispered, "He sounds perfect..."
Videl’s lips curved faintly.
Perfect weapon of any woman in this world where power is respected.
Yes.
But he is mine.
She did not say it aloud.
She didn’t need to.
After a few more curious questions—about his height, his hair, his deanor—Videl finally placed her satchel down on her bed.
"I’ve had a long day," she said gently. "If you don’t mind."
Niva imdiately stepped back. "Of course. We’re sorry."
Dira gave a short nod.
Kira smiled shyly. "Good night, Videl."
As Videl sat on her bed, loosening the straps of her boots, she allowed herself a small, private smile.
No matter how many whispered his na.
No matter how many eyes searched for him.
Victor walked his own path.
And she walked beside him.
This—
This was the real start of Videl’s school life.
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