“Begin!” Mother's voice rang out.
Raymond didn’t hesitate for a second. He ca at fast, heavy, and utterly clumsy.
“Haaaaa!!!”
I didn’t want to do it. I really didn’t.
I knew what Mother wanted. She wanted to showcase the importance of fundantals to everyone in this room. But… to sacrifice a kid’s public image just to show that…
Raymond, he seed like a good kid. Sure, he didn’t hesitate to aim his sword at … both of … but that was just his determination to be the best shining through, right?
But… with a sharp blade aiming straight at , what else could I do?
Maybe I can go easy on him.
His nose was already bandaged, and I surely didn’t want to injure him further. I decided to just deflect his attack and have him drop his sword.
I eyed forward. I could see his move clearly. It was like slow motion. Even without his clumsy movent, I felt like I could still dodge everything he had.
But I shouldn’t overstep this ti. I decided to just stick with the basics, since that was what we were learning in the first place.
I took one step forward with my forward leg, raising my practice blade just a little bit, and swooping against his sword. It wasn’t even a full-powered block, just a nudge really. But it was sohow enough to send him spiraling to the side.
His foot caught on nothing.
His balance wobbled.
And with a loud thud, he kissed the floor mat.
Both of winced at the sa ti, but I hid it well as Carine, with my face dead as ever.
Unexpectedly, Raymond slowly peeled himself off the mat, using the sword as a crutch. At least he didn’t break any more of his nose.
“Carine, take your stance again.”
Wait, why? He’s already down.
I turned towards Mother with a puzzled look, well, as puzzled as my face could.
“Take your stance, Carine.”
“Y-Yes, Mother,” I replied, doing my best to sound composed.
Raymond finally stood up and rubbed his sore forehead. “Ow~!”
“Raymond,” Mother continued, her icy gaze freezing him in place. “Hold your sword up.”
“Huh? But I already—”
“Now.”
Raymond scrambled to obey, gripping his sword tighter than before, worsening his already clumsy stance.
“Ready?” Mother asked.
“Yes!” Raymond barked.
“Begin!”
Raymond charged again. “Haaaaaa!!”
He aid his sword to the side this ti. At least he was trying sothing new. Still, though, I could read him easier than a children’s book. It was clear he was trying to catch off guard with a low-angle swing.
I held back a groan. I didn’t know what to do. If I dodged, he would fall on his own. If I blocked, he would bounce and fall on his own. Either way, he was going to end up face-first on the mat again, and I was going to look like a bully in front of everyone.
I couldn’t overthink it. His sword was coming in fast, well, fast for him. I stepped forward and nudged his blade to the side again, hoping he’d regain his balance this ti.
Nope.
Straight into the mat he went.
If this keeps up, he’s going to kiss that mat more tis than his future wife.
I was ready to head back to my other self’s side. Even I felt a pang of secondhand embarrassnt as Raymond lay there, groaning. Surely Mother wouldn’t make him—
“Stand up. Again.”
Wait, is she serious? I already beat him twice! Well, technically three…
Raymond groaned as he pushed himself off the floor. His movents were slower this ti, and he winced as he bent down to pick up the fallen sword beside him.
He had his eyes on , flaring with determination.
What? Where did that co from? He could barely stand, and yet he looked like he was ready to charge at again.
“Ready?” Mother asked.
“Yes, Instructor!” he barked, his voice shaky but determined.
I didn’t want to fight him further than this. He already embarrassed himself enough, and his nose wasn’t looking too good either.
“Don’t push yourself, you can’t handle this. You’re already—”
“Don’t look down on ! You think I can’t handle this?!” Raymond shouted, cutting off with a glare that burned hotter than his charge ever had.
All I could sense behind that glare was… hate. As if he wanted nothing more than to topple down.
Oh.
Oh no.
He already saw as a bully.
—
Raymond Aldreid was born into privilege. As the second oldest son of Count Aldreid, his life was set for luxury, yet he desired sothing more. His older brother and sisters were already accomplished nobles, with his oldest sister a part of the Royal Knights.
From the mont he could hold a wooden sword, he swore to beco just like his sister. He too wanted to make the Aldreid na proud. His family’s wealth had ensured the best tutors in the capital, and who better than the Sareid family?
His sister trained with them as well, and Raymond believed it was that school that honed her into the perfect knight. So when he learned that he had earned a seat on the Sareid Estate, he was overjoyed.
And now here he was, six months into his training, with his face down on the mat.
—
“Stand up. Again,” the instructor’s voice rang out behind him.
Raymond staggered to his feet, grabbing the sword he had let go during the fall. His grip tightened. More to calm himself down than to fight.
Across from him stood her.
Carine Sareid
The future Duchess Sareid. The prodigy.
Her stance was flawless. Her sword hand didn’t tremble, her gaze didn’t falter, and her movents, effortless as it may seem, had sent him crashing into the mat twice now, with no sign of effort or struggle.
His earlier determination to prove himself was slowly turning into frustration.
Raymond had hoped to make an impression on the Sareid instructors, but instead, he was becoming a joke. And it wasn’t just Carine’s skill that unnerved him, it was her deanor.
Here he was struggling as best as he could. Sure, he was a junior, but Carine made it seem like all his training was for naught.
He glared at Carine again, hoping for so crack in her armor, so flicker of emotion that would remind him she was human. But there was nothing. Just that sa detached stare. He began to wonder if what he was fighting even saw him as a human.
“Ready?” the instructor asked.
“Yes, Instructor!” Raymond barked.
This ti, I’ll get a hit on her, for sure!
But as Raymond prepared himself for the signal, his opponent opened her mouth.
“Don’t push yourself,” Carine said. Her voice was as cold and detached as the winter wind. “You can’t handle this.”
The words hit like a slap to the face.
She wasn’t mocking him. That would have at least felt human. No, her tone implied that the fact he was training here was a mistake.
His frustration boiled over.
“Don’t look down on ! You think I can’t handle this?!” Raymond snapped, his voice echoing through the hall.
Carine’s gaze shifted to him, finally eting his eyes. But her face barely changed. No surprise, no amusent, no acknowledgnt. Just the sa, sharp stare she always had.
It irritated him.
“You… you really think you’re so far above that you don’t even need to try?!” he shouted, his voice cracking with anger and sha. He wasn’t just fighting her anymore. He was fighting the way she made him feel: small, insignificant, powerless.
Carine tilted her head slightly, her expression still unreadable. “Forgive , what I ant was—”
“Shut up!” Raymond’s grip tightened even more. “I’ll show you! I’ll show you I’m more than you think!” he growled, charging forward with everything he had, abandoning form and caution.
As he closed the distance, Carine didn’t move.
Not until the last possible mont.
When he blinked, he was already lying on the mat, face up, a sharp pain in his chest.
The hall was silent.
Carine, who was towering over his sprawled body, stepped back and gave the sword back to the instructor, then returned to her seat beside the newbie, another person who he failed to beat. Not even he dared to look at him.
Am I that pathetic?
His fists clenched against the mat.
So this… this is the real Carine…
He swore, upon his life, that he would surpass her no matter what.
Even if it killed him.
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