Sam felt deeply humiliated by the entire situation. He cursed Edmund bitterly under his breath as he decided to leave the arena for good, opting to wait for Clara outside.
As Sam stormed away, still muttering curses, Edmund turned his gaze toward Marianne.
"I wish to take the test as well," he said smoothly. "What about me?"
However, Professor Jeff immediately hauled him away, dragging him along in a desperate attempt to salvage whatever remained of their dignity in front of Marianne.
Clara had witnessed everything that had just transpired. A wave of pity washed over her as she looked at Sam. He wasn't a combat expert; he was merely a servant.
If his passion truly lies with the blade, she decided, I will support him as a way to show my gratitude.
At the conclusion of the school day, the students filed out, stripping off their salt-stained, sweat-soaked athletic gear. Clara stood before the mirror in the student locker room, changing back into her everyday attire.
She gazed at her reflection—the girl with the long, pale blue hair. In the depths of the mirror, a phantom shadow seemed to approach her from behind.
"Ah... ah..."
The shadow's hand caressed her, velvet fingers tracing through her most private and hidden depths. Her imagination had ignited into a terrifying blaze.
Earlier that day, she had seen Edmund in his full athletic splendor, witnessing his desperate attempt to join her class at any cost. Though there wasn't a single shred of physical evidence that this phantom—the one her mind had conjured to touch and caress her—was real, her heart, overflowing with obsession, believed it completely.
She looked at the specter that only she could see.
"Are you playing hard to get? Ah... ah..."
She moaned softly, picturing his touch. She was losing herself; she was becoming a danger to her own soul. In the barren depths of her heart, she craved his taste and the feel of him within her hidden depths, yet she knew such things were still out of reach.
First, she had to crush every rival for his love. Only then would she find true satisfaction. Clara, the mad daughter of House Smorgoth.
She stood alone between her reflection and the mirror, while between her legs lay the shameful mark of her desire—a viscous fluid known in certain tales as the 'nectar of love.'
To any casual observer, she looked perfectly normal; no one could perceive the true extent of this woman's madness.
In truth, Clara's condition hadn't always been this dire—not in the beginning, nor even before it all started. Clara Smorgoth was the eldest daughter of the noble Lord of House Smorgoth.
She was once a shy maiden, with hair that resembled celestial waterfalls, and a purity tempered only by a slight sharpness toward those who dared to threaten what she held dear.
She was a girl in every sense of the word. Her obsession didn't take root until she met Edmund Lazurde. It was he, the young man, who had pursued her relentlessly through every possible means.
Back then, he was the "Scumbag Prince," and she was the radiant Princess of House Smorgoth. When they were mere children of ten, that clumsy boy had threatened to take his own life if she didn't grant him a single kiss.
Driven by her naive nature, she found herself falling for him after much time and familiarity. He would shower her with clumsy vows of love, claiming he had never beheld a beauty equal to hers.
She grew up loving him, but suddenly, he began to drift away, time and time again. Every time, he claimed he was busy. A thousand times he told her he was "unavailable." Every hour, he told her "not to worry." Every opportunity, every meeting, every date—without a shadow of a doubt—became a death sentence.
He judged her. He destroyed her. She did not feign her feelings, nor did she choose to be the "worse party" in this bond. She simply accepted the bitter truth: nothing sweet comes without obstacles.
People would see her as disturbed; they would see her as mad. Those who cared to look had long since seen someone she never dreamed of becoming. Her silent demeanor made her a constant target for gossip—whispers that the daughter of House Smorgoth was unworthy of her lineage, and that her Aunt Sarah was a thousand times more deserving than she.
But so what?
"It's nothing, Edmund... I was just a little excited."
She didn't want to tarnish her angelic image with her wild, untamed thoughts. Her cravings had to be suppressed, at least for now.
Sam was waiting for her outside. Before facing him, she had to clean away the fluid she had released—the evidence of her secret fervor.
Outside, Sam encountered Edmund once again. He tried to slip away before being spotted, wanting no further involvement in Edmund's schemes.
But Sam saw Edmund heading straight for him. He tried to distance himself, and when he realized Edmund was closing in, he took off running. Edmund gave chase, but Sam quickly ran out of breath, allowing Edmund to catch up.
"Wait, please! I didn't mean to humiliate you back there," Edmund panted.
In truth, Edmund had feared Sam from the very beginning. Not the Sam of today, but the Sam of the future. That bastard would eventually become a problem that couldn't be ignored, and the worst part was that he couldn't be stopped—he was as slippery as a fish. Instead of opposing him, Edmund decided it was better to be his friend, or at least maintain a good relationship. He didn't want this rogue to be one of his future headaches.
Thus, he tried to get close to him, but his plans had spiraled out of control.
"What do you mean you didn't mean it?" Sam snapped. "In the end, I was humiliated by a farting old man. You're the reason!"
Edmund tried to calm him. "Relax, man... How about some chocolate to make amends?"
'Is this bastard trying to make up with his girlfriend?' Sam thought. 'Chocolate? Do you think I'm a little girl?'
From the look of pure contempt Sam gave him, Edmund realized he had made a catastrophic blunder, yet he didn't take back his words. He called his personal servant and ordered the chocolate.
"Fine, I wouldn't accept your chocolate anyway," Sam muttered.
"Why are you in such a rush? I came to tell you that Lady Marianne has accepted us into her sword training class. Even though you're just Clara's attendant, she saw the seeds of a warrior in you."
'A warrior? My foot... a warrior who's 163cm tall? I have to refuse.'
"But before you say no," Edmund added, "how about I ask Clara to increase your salary in exchange for attending the sword lessons with me?"
A salary increase... it sounded incredibly tempting. But no—dignity first.
"I won't accept anything less than a 50% raise..."
"Look, I don't really like talking to her... and I'd rather not make huge demands of her. How about a twenty-five percent raise? And in exchange, I'll take you with me on my night outings with women. You know, I'm a VIP member at 'The Joy Club'."
Upon hearing this proposal, Sam felt the wind whistle in his ears as he swallowed hard, inhaling a sharp breath of air.
He lunged forward, grabbing Edmund's hand with all his might.
"Edmund... no... Father! You are truly magnificent!"
Startled by Sam's sudden movement, Edmund quickly pulled his hand away, a smirk playing on his lips.
"You're being far too dramatic."
"This son merely salutes his father!" Sam replied with mock solemnity.
When Clara stepped outside and found Sam and Edmund together, she felt a wave of intense shame wash over her, remembering the vivid fantasies she'd just had about Edmund while she was alone.
Struggling to regain her composure, she approached the two of them and tried to strike up a conversation.
"Hello, Sam... Hello, Edmund..."
Edmund raised a single finger to silence her, then cut straight to the point.
"What is Sam's salary?"
Clara was taken aback by the blunt, sudden question.
"150 gold pieces per month."
In this world, ten gold pieces were roughly equivalent to a thousand dollars, meaning Sam was pulling in fifteen thousand dollars a month.
"From this day forward... his salary is..." Edmund started, but then he hesitated.
"Go on... finish it," Sam prompted.
A sudden sense of suspicion and unease gripped Edmund. He adjusted his clothes, trying to gather his thoughts, but his confidence faltered.
"How about... we increase his salary... in exchange for some chocolate?"
Sam stared at Edmund, his face a mask of deadpan disappointment.
"Father... how about you just shut up?"
"You'll get some chocolate too!" Edmund snapped back.