Things were finally starting to heat up... because the ranking matches were just around the corner.
For cadets of Velcrest Academy, this was more than just a friendly competition. It was war—clean, organized, and sanctioned by the instructors, but war nonetheless.
This was where reputations were built. Where hierarchies shifted. Where soone who’d been ignored all sester could flip the entire table with one well-placed spell or punch.
For a lot of cadets, this was the beginning of their actual academy lives. For others, it was a nightmare dressed in training uniforms.
And for ?
It was the perfect opportunity.
...But it doesn’t an I was going to obsessed with it...Like everyone.
What matters most was the peace....and currently I was getting that peace that I ...rarely found in this chaotic academy life.
The classroom buzzed quietly with low chatter, the kind that didn’t demand your attention. Outside the window, sunlight filtered through the glass in dappled patterns, and for once, I felt calm.
I was leaning back in my seat, arms folded, soaking in the rare mont of peace, when a familiar voice cut through the air.
"You’re looking awfully relaxed for soone with ranking matches coming up."
I blinked and turned my head.
Rachel.
She had made herself comfortable beside during our short break, legs crossed, posture casual. She wasn’t wearing her inspector uniform today, but sothing close enough that you’d still get the vibe. Confident, polished, dangerous.
"You done inspecting the teachers?" I asked.
"For now," she said with a lazy grin. "Though honestly, your basic magic professor is more interested in gossip than curriculum."
I chuckled awkwardly. She wasn’t wrong.
That Little witch....was interesting but she was also an villain in this story. Not now though.
So I won’t think much.
Rachel rested her chin on her palm, tilting her head toward with that unreadable gaze she always wore when she was trying not to look like she was worried.
"So," she began casually, "ranking matches. What’s your take? Feeling confident?"
I raised a brow at her tone. It wasn’t teasing or mocking—just... curious.
I leaned back a little more in my seat and gave her a faint smirk. "Of course I am."
It wasn’t bravado. Just a fact.
Rachel stared at for a second longer than necessary. Then, she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Confident, huh..."
I could tell.
She was worried.
Not the overwhelming, dramatic kind of worry that she used to had. But the quieter, lingering kind—the kind that burrowed in your chest and made you look for cracks in soone’s smile.
She wasn’t the type to make a scene or tell to quit every ti I coughed....At least not now. But I saw it in the way her eyes flicked over , always checking.
She didn’t have to say it out loud.
"I’m fine, sis," I said softly, before she could try to fish for more.
She blinked.
Then let out a small sigh, lips curling upward. "You always say that."
"That’s because it’s true," I said with a shrug. "Mostly."
That made her chuckle. The kind of laugh you only gave family. Just a little crooked, a little dry, but warm underneath.
Our conversation drifted after that.
We talked about her recent hero work before she cos to Velcrest Academy as inspector—subduing a rampaging beast near the western ridge, negotiating between two warring guilds in the capital, and sothing about an annoying guy who thought he could win her over with a horse made of roses.
"...He actually nad the horse ’Rachel the Second,’" she muttered, eyes rolling.
I choked on my water.
She smirked. "Exactly. Hero work is getting weirder."
I listened quietly, letting her stories play out. In monts like this, she seed less like the terrifying hero plastered on posters and more like... Rachel. My sister.
Eventually, she stood up and stretched, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeves.
"Well," she said, turning toward the door, "I’ve got so unfinished business left."
I glanced up at her. "Unfinished business?"
She didn’t respond.
Just gave a vague, knowing smile and a little wave before walking off.
"Hey—what kind of business?" I called after her.
She kept walking.
Didn’t even look back.
Just lifted her hand in a lazy wave and disappeared around the corner.
I stared at the empty space where she’d just been.
...Unfinished business, huh?
Why did I get the feeling that peace was about to run out again?
Well....They say, ’If you want peace? Be ready for war.’
...And I think, for peace...I have to fight.
Not like I was doing before.
---
I leave the classroom and started to wandering around academy’s ground.
Mainly because I wanted move my body and think sothing important for once.
Mostly it related to Leona and her cursed sword.
Honestly? I was going to destroyed that sword in near future after Leona showed it to .
Even if... she looked like she was in control in front of , who knew what kind of toll that cursed sword was really taking on her?
That wasn’t the kind of thing you played around with. A blade that whispered to its wielder wasn’t a weapon—it was a promise of disaster wrapped in sharp steel.
I wasn’t going to let that play out. Not here. Not while I was around.
That was the plan—until Zaho Yuren suddenly spoke up.
—She has strong ntal strength. That sword won’t consu her. You don’t need to worry.
...And he was right.
The Leona standing before now was different from the Leona in the novel.
Back then, she lacked confidence in her swordsmanship, always second-guessing herself.
But now?
Now, she had pride. Real, solid pride in her skills.
She stood tall, her grip firm, her gaze unwavering.
So my plan—my carefully thought-out, sneaky little plan—had to be scrapped.
Unfortunately.
Frostveil and Leona were a terrifyingly good match.
That cursed sword was dangerous in the wrong hands. But in the right hands—specifically, hands with a strong mind—it beca a weapon of unmatched power.
And Leona had the right hands.
If she didn’t lose to Ryen and Leo during the first ranking match, chances were, she’d never lose confidence like she did in the original story.
Well, I couldn’t control that anymore. So, I sighed and moved on.
I decided to find a quiet spot to clear my head.
But the mont I turned the corner into one of the lesser-used garden paths—
Voices.
There were already people there.
Great.
"...Who are you to keep calling my brother a loser?" a cold, irritated voice said.
My heart dropped.
No.
No, no, no—don’t tell ...
"It might be a joke between friends," she continued, her voice smooth but deadly, "but the person hearing it might not take it that way. I’m really curious."
The poor girl stamred. "Th-that’s..."
Rachel’s tone didn’t waver.
"It’s kind of rude, don’t you think? If calling soone a loser is your way of expressing friendliness, then would it be okay if I did the sa to you? I am an inspector, after all. It’s only fair I get friendly with the cadets."
"S-Sister, that’s—"
"Oh? Why are you calling ’sister’?" she asked, cocking her head innocently. "When did we ever get that close? You want to be friends, but friendship doesn’t happen just because you want it, right?"
...
I turned away slowly.
I didn’t see anything.
Didn’t hear anything.
Nope.
So that was the unfinished business you ntioned earlier, Rachel...?
...to bully Kiera?
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