I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was Miss Fia’s face hovering above , frad by a vast, clear blue sky. For a brief mont, my mind was completely blank, as if my thoughts had been wiped clean along with my consciousness. The clouds drifted lazily overhead, the sunlight warm but not harsh, and a gentle breeze brushed against my cheeks.
...Wait.
Where am I lying down?
And more importantly—what is this soft, warm sensation under my head?
The realization hit all at once, sharp enough to jolt my entire body upright.
I stood up imdiately upon realizing that I was resting on Miss Fia’s lap. My body reacted before my brain could catch up, muscles tensing as I pushed myself upright with far more urgency than grace. The sudden movent startled her, and she let out a small, surprised "ohh," her posture wobbling slightly as if she had been on the verge of falling asleep herself. Her hands, which must have been resting on her thighs monts ago, lifted instinctively before settling awkwardly back down.
That was close. Way too close.
If I hadn’t stood up just then, I might’ve ended up staying on her lap until she woke up properly. And if that happened, I would have absolutely no excuse. Worse, if one student happened to walk by, saw us, and recognized her—my life as a student would be over. Completely. Miss Fia wasn’t just an instructor; she had fans. A lot of them. The kind who smiled sweetly in public and sharpened their daggers in private.
I took a few careful steps back, putting so much-needed distance between us. My body still felt heavy, sore in places I didn’t want to think about, but adrenaline was doing a great job of masking it. Miss Fia, anwhile, adjusted her posture and looked at with mild surprise rather than embarrassnt, as if this entire situation was nothing more than a small, harmless incident.
"So you finally woke up," she said, smiling gently. "How was it? Did it help clear your thoughts?"
Her voice was calm, almost warm, and that alone made feel strangely guilty. Like I was the only one making a big deal out of sothing she’d already brushed aside. I swallowed and scratched the side of my cheek, avoiding her eyes.
"Yeah," I answered shyly, smiling back despite myself. "Thank you very much, Miss Fia."
The words felt inadequate, but they were all I had. Embarrassnt crawled up my spine, settling firmly on my face. Sleeping on her lap—no matter the circumstances—was not sothing I could just pretend didn’t happen. At least, not ntally. Yet she didn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, she looked relieved that I’d finally woken up.
That realization only made things worse.
Wait... how long was I even out?
The thought crept into my mind quietly, then exploded into panic.
"Miss Fia," I asked, trying to sound casual and failing miserably, "how long was I asleep?"
She blinked, then tilted her head slightly, eyes drifting upward as she thought. "About two hours or so, I think. Why?"
Two hours.
My mind went blank.
I slept for two hours on her lap?!
What the hell am I doing? What kind of ridiculous situation is this? My thoughts spiraled imdiately, worst-case scenarios flashing through my head one after another. Two hours was more than enough ti for soone to walk by. More than enough ti for misunderstandings to form. Rumors didn’t need proof—just timing.
I forced myself to swallow the rising dread.
"Just asking," I said quickly, my voice stiff. "Did anyone see us while I was sleeping?"
I braced myself, ntally preparing for the end of my already questionable school reputation.
"Nope," she replied without hesitation. "No one. Since everyone was in class."
Oh.
Oh, benevolent god, thank you for letting everyone be in class today.
I exhaled, long and slow, feeling tension drain from my shoulders all at once. My legs felt weak—not from my injuries this ti, but from sheer relief. Disaster had been avoided. Barely, but still avoided.
Then sothing didn’t add up.
"Wait," I said, frowning slightly as another thought surfaced. "Then why am I not in class?"
Miss Fia looked genuinely confused by the question, her brows knitting together. "Hm? Well, it’s already a given because of your injury, isn’t it?"
She gestured lightly toward , and only then did I fully register the dull ache in my body—the stiffness in my limbs, the faint throb beneath the bandages. Right. I had pushed myself too far earlier. Skipping class because of that wasn’t exactly unreasonable.
Well, she wasn’t wrong. That part made sense.
"Then why aren’t you in class?" I asked next, narrowing my eyes just a bit. I didn’t say it outright, but my expression clearly translated to, Are you skipping?
She noticed imdiately.
Her eyebrows furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line before she straightened up, posture firm and instructor-like. "First, I’ll let you know that it’s not what you’re thinking," she said, pointing a finger upward for emphasis.
"I’m not skipping classes," she continued, her tone serious but not angry. "Since our instructor was still busy tidying up the aftermath of the fighting ground case, she told us that she wouldn’t hold classes today."
She paused, then looked at pointedly, as if daring to doubt her. The explanation was thorough, precise, and almost defensive in a way I hadn’t expected.
So, she has this side of her too.
"Yeah, I understand. Sorry for doubting you," I said.
The mont the words left my mouth, Miss Fia’s expression softened. The tension that had lingered between us—thin but unmistakable—finally dissipated. She smiled, not the polite kind she usually wore in front of students, but sothing more relaxed, almost satisfied, as if she had been waiting for that apology.
"It’s fine," she replied lightly. "I’m glad you understand."
She shifted her weight slightly, glancing toward the academy building as if rembering sothing she had almost forgotten. The sunlight filtered through the nearby trees, casting gentle shadows across the stone pathway beneath our feet. For a mont, the atmosphere felt calm—too calm, considering everything that had happened earlier.
"But," she continued, turning back to , "I won’t be able to accompany you this afternoon."
"Huh?" I tilted my head.
"Since Instructor Refu is also busy," she explained, "he asked us to hold the lesson for the first years."
So even instructors weren’t exempt from being dragged around when things got hectic. I could already imagine the chaos that must’ve been going on behind the scenes—injuries, reports, cleanup, and the never-ending responsibility of keeping this academy from falling apart.
"It’s okay," I said with a shrug. "It’s not like I’m crippled."
The words slipped out naturally, ant to lighten the mood. I even gave a small grin, hoping she’d take it the way it was intended.
She didn’t.
Her smile vanished instantly, replaced by a look of concern that bordered on guilt. Her brows knit together, and her shoulders stiffened, as if she’d just been reminded of sothing unpleasant.
"Oh—" she began, hesitating. "I’m sorry... I didn’t an to leave you alone when you’re still—"
"It was a joke," I interrupted quickly, waving my hand. "A joke. Really."
She blinked.
"...Eh?"
Seeing her genuinely confused face only made things worse. I let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of my head.
"Oh. It was a joke. Hahaha..."
She forced a laugh in response, trying to match my tone, but it ca out stiff and unnatural. "Hahaha... right."
And just like that, the air between us turned awkward. The kind of silence that wasn’t hostile, but heavy enough to make you painfully aware of every second passing. Neither of us spoke. The wind rustled the leaves above, and sowhere in the distance, students’ voices echoed faintly through the halls.
I cleared my throat, trying to shake the discomfort.
That was when sothing clicked in my mind.
A mory surfaced—clearer than I expected.
After the incident at Carson’s mansion, when I had been in far worse condition than this, my father had bought a healing potion. I still rembered the bitter taste, the warmth spreading through my body as my wounds closed almost instantly. At the ti, I had thought it was overpriced for what it did.
Now, though?
It sounded like a miracle.
"By the way," I said, breaking the silence, "is there any place in this school where I can buy a healing potion?"
Miss Fia’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected that question. "A healing potion?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "I figured it might speed things up."
"There is," she said after a mont, "but... are you sure you’re going to buy one?"
Her tone shifted, cautious now. "They’re a bit pricey, you know."
"I know," I replied without hesitation. "I once bought one because of a serious injury in the past."
That was an understatent, but there was no need to go into details. I wasn’t particularly fond of reliving that mory anyway.
She studied for a second, then smirked. "So you’ve been prone to attracting trouble since before."
"...That’s not how I’d phrase it," I said, letting out a quiet sigh. "To be clear, I strive for a peaceful life. Trouble just refuses to leave alone."
That, at least, was the truth.
She chuckled at my response, the earlier awkwardness finally fading away. The sound was light, genuine. Seeing her laugh like that made smile without even thinking about it.
"Going back to your question," she said, once she’d composed herself, "you can buy healing potions in the clinic."
She gestured behind us, toward the building we were already near. "Luckily, we’re only steps away from it."
There was a hint of pride in her voice, as if she were subtly bragging about having dragged here in the first place.
"Yeah," I replied, glancing toward the clinic entrance. "Thank you for dragging here."
Our eyes t for a brief second.
Then, almost instinctively, we both laughed.
The laughter felt natural, unforced—like the awkwardness from before had never existed. For a mont, everything else faded away: the injuries, the tension, the responsibilities waiting for both of us.
And then—
Ding—ding—ding.
The bell rang, sharp and clear, echoing across the academy grounds.
Both of us froze, then looked around as if realizing how much ti had passed.
"...Ti sure flies," Miss Fia said. "It’s already lunch."
She turned to , her expression thoughtful. "Want to have lunch together?"
The invitation caught off guard. For a split second, I considered it. Sitting down, eating properly, pretending things were normal—it didn’t sound bad.
But my body reminded otherwise with a dull ache.
"No," I said, shaking my head gently. "You can go ahead. I’ll buy a healing potion first."
I clenched my fist slightly. "I can’t stand being like this anymore."
She studied my face, then nodded in understanding. "Is that so?"
She smiled again, smaller this ti. "Then see you!"
"Yeah," I replied. "See you, Miss Fia."
"We’ll co up with a solution later after class, so wait for , okay?" she said.
Her tone was gentle but firm, the kind that didn’t leave much room for argunt. It wasn’t a request—it was reassurance.
"I understand," I replied, nodding. "And thank you for everything."
She smiled one last ti before turning away. As she walked off, she raised one hand and waved lightly over her shoulder, as if to say, Don’t mind it. Leave it to . Her figure gradually blended into the flow of students heading toward the cafeteria, her presence lingering even after she disappeared from sight.
Only then did I finally let out a slow breath.
With Miss Fia gone, the quiet returned. The academy grounds felt different without her nearby—larger, emptier sohow. The faint chatter of students echoed from afar, carried by the wind, while the stone pathway beneath my feet felt uncomfortably solid with every step I took.
I turned toward the clinic.
I was genuinely thankful that it was only a few steps away. Walking in my current condition was still a challenge. Every movent pulled at my muscles, and my left leg throbbed dully, reminding that I hadn’t imagined the pain earlier. Even with my pride intact, my body was very much not.
When I entered the clinic, the familiar scent of herbs and dicine greeted . The interior was quiet, far calr than the chaos outside. A few beds were occupied, curtains drawn halfway, while staff mbers moved about with practiced efficiency.
I approached the nearest staff mber at the counter.
"Excuse ," I said. "Where can I buy a healing potion?"
She looked at from head to toe, her gaze lingering briefly on the bandages and my posture. Her expression shifted subtly—hesitation mixed with sothing close to concern.
"Healing potions aren’t cheap," she said carefully. "Are you sure you—"
Without a word, I reached into my pocket and placed ten gold coins onto the counter.
The clinking sound cut through her sentence cleanly.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"...This way, please," she said imdiately, her tone changing completely.
She guided down a short hallway and stopped in front of a door. Inside, a girl dressed in priestess-like robes was waiting, hands folded neatly in front of her. The room itself was simple but clean, faintly glowing with a soft, calming light.
The transaction was straightforward.
Ten gold coins.
That was all it took.
The sa coins the principal had given earlier—probably with the expectation that I’d need them sooner or later. I didn’t hesitate. The potion was handed to , its glass vial cool against my palm.
I uncorked it and drank it on the spot.
The taste was exactly as I rembered—bitter, sharp, and unpleasant. But the effect followed imdiately. A warm sensation spread from my stomach outward, flowing through my limbs like a gentle current. My left leg tingled, then pulsed softly.
I watched in silence as the pain faded.
It felt as though the wound was closing from the inside, stitching itself together without resistance. The lingering ache vanished, followed by the soreness in my arms, my back, even the smaller cuts I hadn’t bothered to pay attention to. One by one, the discomforts disappeared, replaced by a strange lightness.
After a short while, my body felt refreshed—no, more than that.
It felt as if I’d just woken up from a deep, uninterrupted night’s sleep. My breathing steadied, my posture straightened naturally, and the heaviness that had been clinging to since morning was completely gone.
Perfect condition.
I flexed my fingers, then shifted my weight slightly. No pain. No stiffness.
...Worth every coin.
"Thank you," I said sincerely, bowing my head slightly.
The staff returned the gesture, and I left the room feeling lighter than I had all day.
As I headed toward the exit of the clinic, my steps naturally slowed when I passed by a familiar room—the one where I had woken up earlier. The door was slightly open, voices drifting out into the hallway.
"He just left this morning with the top magician, Fia," one of the staff mbers said.
My steps halted.
...They’re talking about , aren’t they?
"Is he coming back here?" another voice asked. "Or is he already released?"
That voice.
I frowned slightly.
Where have I heard it before?
"I don’t know," the staff mber replied. "We’ll wait for him until the afternoon. If he doesn’t co back, we’ll fill this room with another patient."
"I see," the familiar voice said. "Okay, thank you."
Footsteps approached the door.
I instinctively took a step back, positioning myself just outside the room. The door opened, and the person inside stepped out—
—and froze.
For a brief second, his eyes widened in surprise.
Then, just as quickly, his expression returned to its usual calm, unreadable state.
The one standing in front of was the Jack of Drei Academy’s top cards.
Raiden’s friend.
Byen.
"So," he said casually, slipping his hands into his pockets, "you’re here."
He studied briefly, his gaze sharp despite his relaxed posture. "Do you have a minute? I have sothing to talk to you about."
The tone of his voice told enough.
This wasn’t small talk.
It felt important—important enough that he’d co looking for himself. I had no reason to refuse, and honestly, I was curious.
"Yeah," I replied. "I’m about to get lunch, but I can spare a minute or two."
He nodded once. "Thank you. Then follow ."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and started walking.
I followed him just like he said, and we both left the clinic.
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