Johanne's POV
The mont Leon and the Princess's lips t in that quiet, suspended second…
Sothing inside shattered.
It wasn't just a crack.
But it was a sudden, painful rupture that echoed through my chest like glass breaking under pressure.
The sensation was so raw and so visceral, that no mask or forced composure could hope to hide it.
My entire body tensed, my shoulders stiffening as if trying to hold together the pieces of sothing that had already fallen apart.
I didn't know what the emotion was. I couldn't na it.
It was ugly.
It twisted my expression into sothing unrecognizable—even to myself.
My face burned, not from embarrassnt, but from the intensity of sothing far more unsettling.
I couldn't explain it. Couldn't analyze it. Couldn't rationalize it.
And above all—it hurt.
It hurt so much that I found it difficult to breathe, as if soone had reached inside my lungs and squeezed all the air out.
The pain sat in my chest like a heavy stone, pressing harder and harder until I felt like I might collapse under the weight of it.
If I had been absolutely certain—undeniably confident—that I was a man through and through, maybe I could've dismissed it. Brushed it off as a strange flutter. A fleeting affliction. Sothing bizarre that didn't make sense but wasn't worth thinking too deeply about.
But then I rembered Tris's words.
"The witch… I an, Miss Dorothea said that the reason you turned back into a girl was because you kissed your true love."
When I first heard that, I froze. Shocked. Stunned.
But now… now it all started to fit together like cruel puzzle pieces sliding into place.
I was a woman now. Leon was a man.
And that could only an one thing—I loved him.
Not as a friend. Not as a teammate. Not as a comrade-in-arms.
I loved him… as a woman.
Even though I had once been a man, I kissed him. That kiss alone was enough to revert back into my female form. A form I was still stuck in now… but not for long. Tomorrow, I would return to being a man.
And with that return ca a crossroads. A decision that would change everything.
Would I live the rest of my life as a woman…?
Or would I reclaim my identity as a man?
There were only two roads ahead of . No shortcuts. No in-betweens. Just a hard, irreversible choice.
If I chose the first—if I chose to remain a woman—I had no doubt I could find happiness. If I accepted that part of myself, I could imagine being one of Leon's won, standing by his side not as a friend, but as a lover. That kind of happiness… it was tempting. So tempting.
But if I chose that path, then wouldn't I just be running away?
Wouldn't I be turning my back on the duty and responsibility that I was supposed to uphold? As a man. As who I once was.
I didn't know how to deal with this confusion. These feelings were like a storm inside .
It was violent, chaotic, and impossible to navigate.
I was lost.
Torn between what I wanted… and what I believed I owed to myself.
What should I do…?
Part of scread to follow my heart. To stop thinking and just feel. To leap toward the warmth I desired.
But the burden of what I'd have to give up if I did… it dragged at like chains.
Responsibility… duty… identity…
They pulled back, clawing at my soul just when I thought I might be able to move forward.
***
Leon's POV
Everything was in motion.
Every piece, every sentence, every image had been checked, double-checked, and polished to perfection.
The articles were flawless with text aligned, formatting crisp, and the photos positioned exactly where they needed to be. Every line was crafted with intention. Every statent verified for truth and impact.
The entire thing was ready to go.
The mont I clicked "publish," I knew there would be no turning back.
The scandal—especially the one involving the Sword Saint and his child—was massive. The twist about Johanne changing genders… it wasn't just news. It was dynamite. And it wasn't baseless.
Johanne had approved it.
That ant I had full clearance. All that remained was to pull the trigger.
There was also a second article. One that, on any other day, would've been the headline—the confirmation that the academy now permitted every cadet to graduate into full-fledged Magic Knights.
That alone was groundbreaking.
We had photos. Docunts. Logs. Proof stacked like bricks in a fortress.
I glanced toward Myrcella. She gave a firm, unflinching nod. A silent "Do it."
I hit the button.
Thirty minutes passed.
And the views exploded past one hundred thousand.
It was going viral. No—it had gone viral.
Everything was falling into place.
But still… I couldn't relax.
Saying that everything was proceeding "smoothly" at this stage would've been naïve. Foolish. Suicidal, even.
We were playing a dangerous ga.
The deadcatting strategy was already in motion—designed to draw attention away and to manipulate focus—but it only worked if people didn't realize it was bait.
If they discovered that it was exaggerated or fake… if even a sliver of doubt crept in…
Then it was over.
Trust in the leadership? Gone.
Trust in or the entirety of Leonamon as the publisher? Destroyed.
Which is why we had to be ticulous.
Every claim had to be backed with irrefutable proof. Every paragraph had to hold weight.
I knew the academy would be scrambling by now with them labeling the article as misinformation, trying to discredit it in any way they could. But I was already one step ahead.
I was going to throw the full might of Leonamon into this fight.
We had our proof.
We had our platform.
We had our voice.
And now… with everything set in motion…
Let the ga of internet chess begin.
***
Galdea's POV
I slowly woke up, my body wrapped in the lingering warmth of my bed.
A strange but welco sensation washed over —peace. True peace.
For the first ti in what felt like ages, I had slept soundly.
My thoughts weren't burdened, and my chest felt light.
The stress that usually clung to like a second skin had, for once, slipped away.
Maybe it was because today was finally my day off?
The mont I opened my eyes and blinked away the soft haze of slumber, I was struck by how calm everything felt.
No papers to sign, no schedules to attend, and most importantly—no crusty old n breathing down my neck about budget revisions and funding reports.
It really was a beautiful day, the kind I rarely got to enjoy.
I stretched my arms above my head and let out a long, slow yawn.
"Haaaaaaa~..."
It wasn't the sort of yawn born from exhaustion or fatigue.
No, it was the kind of luxurious, drawn-out yawn that ca after a night of uninterrupted rest—a yawn pulled straight from contentnt.
It felt... divine.
It had seriously been forever since I'd last experienced such a restful sleep.
Even longer since I'd taken a proper break from my duties as an administrator.
As the technical treasurer, I was responsible for managing the academy's annual budget—a thankless, soul-draining job that required a precise balance of diplomacy and calculation.
Every single number had to be accounted for. Every decimal mattered.
But right now? I wasn't in that world.
I was in my old bed, in my family's ho. Familiar walls, the scent of old wood, and clean sheets.
It felt like stepping back into a forgotten version of myself, one untouched by politics and responsibility.
Still groggy, I blinked slowly as I felt strands of my hair stick to my cheek, glued there by dried-up saliva from sleeping like a log. Gross, but weirdly comforting.
That's when my phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand beside .
Grumbling, I reached over, squinting at the glowing screen.
One of the senior administrators.
Of course.
Without even thinking, I hit the red button and declined the call.
I an—seriously? They knew I was taking today off. It had been approved, signed, and logged. So why the hell was he calling ?
With a sigh, I tossed the phone back onto the nightstand and rolled out of bed.
First thing's first: a long, hot bath.It had been too damn long since I'd had the ti to properly rinse off and enjoy a quiet morning without rushing.
After washing away the tiredness and soaking in so much-needed steam, I stepped back into my room with nothing but a towel loosely draped over my damp body. Water still trickled down my skin as I rubbed at my wet hair with another towel.
Just as I was halfway through drying my hair, my phone buzzed again.
I stared at it with a deadpan expression.
"…What the hell now?" I muttered. "Is this old man seriously trying to woo again? Doesn't he have a wife?"
I groaned, dragging the towel over my head.
"Why are all these old married n constantly after …?"
I declined the call once more.
Today was my day. My rare, sacred day of rest.
So, I figured... why not enjoy it properly?
I flopped onto my bed, opened my phone again, and launched social dia.
Social dia was such a weird thing—ridiculously powerful, though.
News spread through it like wildfire, and with how far technology had co, it only took a few taps to send out a ssage across the continent.
This device—my smartphone—was my lifeline. It made everything easier.
But just as the screen lit up and loaded the feed, the very first thing I saw made my heart skip a beat.
A headline.
"The Academy Now Allows All Cadets, Regardless of Class, to Graduate and Beco Magic Knights."
My eyes widened in disbelief. My breath caught.
And before I could even react—thud—the towel wrapped around my body slipped and fell to the floor.
"What…!?"
User Comments
0 comments from readers