The next morning, I went straight to the training grounds the moment I woke up. Until it was time to enter the academy, I needed to refine my swordsmanship to a professional level. Passing the academy's aptitude-based entrance examination was not optional.
The Morvael Academy admits new students every year as winter ends and spring begins. Because it is an independent institution, applicants may come from any country. Even the son of an unimaginably wealthy merchant or a duke must sit for the entrance exam. Only the children of the most renowned royal families in the world are admitted directly.
Which meant I would have to work relentlessly. Although this body allowed me to wield a sword, that alone was not enough. When I reached the training grounds, the air was still cold. A thin layer of frost covered the grass, left behind by the night, and each breath burned my lungs. That was exactly what I wanted. Comfort was the fastest thing to rot in this world.
When I took the sword in my hand, I emptied my mind. The academy's examination did not measure strength alone. Posture, balance, breath control, and above all, intent. Morvael's instructors were masters at reading the resolve behind a strike.
The first hours passed with basic forms. Again, and again, and again. When my shoulders began to burn, I did not stop. When my wrists trembled, I did not loosen my grip. With every mistake, I corrected myself. With every clean movement, I forced the next one to be cleaner still. As sweat ran down my back, my sense of time dissolved.
At some point, I realized I truly was improving at a remarkable pace. My body responded without conscious thought. As my feet retreated, the sword advanced. As my breath tightened, my defense rose on its own. It was an advantage that came with possessing the hero's body. When I finally set the sword down to rest, my hands were numb. Yet there was a strange calm within me.
While I rested, I felt a pair of eyes on me. When I turned around, I saw the baroness watching me from behind her window. The moment she realized I had noticed her, she flushed and stepped away. She had likely been observing me for some time, given how persistently I had felt watched.
Then again, it could have been Luciene. When I scanned the training grounds, I spotted her a short distance away. She was testing her new power under the intense attention of the instructors. On the day she fought the goblins, she had made an extraordinary leap forward. Otherwise, she would not have survived.
The looks on the instructors' faces as they watched Luciene were anything but empty. I could read them clearly. Surprise, caution, and a restrained greed. Whenever people witness a talent beginning to bloom, the same question crosses their minds. How far can this child go?
When Luciene swung her sword, the air split with a sharp sound. Her movements were still crude, but there was power spilling out of her. Uncontrolled, even dangerous. That was precisely why the instructors hovered around her. Developing this fast in such a short time was astonishing. Some were already whispering that Luciene might surpass even me.
I found it amusing. Because at this moment, I could kill everyone on this training ground and still have energy left to keep fighting. The only person in this castle who could truly challenge me was Baroness Catherinne.
Because she had not needed to use magic in a long time, most people had forgotten how powerful she was. Had she not been cursed, she would likely have been a professor candidate at the academy by now.
----
By the time I finished my training, the sun was already high. The frost had vanished, and the grass was wet. I liked the fatigue weighing on my body. It was the heaviness of a day not wasted.
As I headed toward the manor, Luciene ran up behind me and caught up, like a small kitten chasing after its mother. Normally, a girl as social and talkative as her would have gone straight to her friends, off to town or somewhere else to have fun. But now, she did not leave my side.
Contrary to what I had expected, this did not seem likely to become an irritating problem. Luciene did not speak unless I did, but she was clearly eager to talk to me, to tell me about her day. As she walked beside me, she matched her steps to mine, making her presence known without imposing it. The silence was not uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was controlled. As if she instinctively knew what she could ask and what she should not.
When we entered the manor, Luciene lifted her head slightly. Her eyes were not on the path ahead, but on me. Still, she did not speak. It was as if she sensed that a single wrong word could shatter the balance between us.
"The instructors were pleased with you today," I said at last. I was certain that if I had not started the conversation, the silence could have lasted forever.
She paused for a moment, then nodded.
"Their approval doesn't matter," she said. "I need to be strong."
"Why?" I asked.
She hesitated briefly, then answered honestly.
"So I can enter the academy with you."
I had not expected that answer. Or rather, I had not expected it to be so direct.
Luciene's voice did not tremble. She did not avert her gaze. What she said was not a confession. It was a fact. As if no other possibility had ever existed.
I stopped and looked at her for a long time. The silence did not unsettle her. If anything, she straightened her shoulders slightly. Like a dog awaiting approval, but like a hunting hound weighing its master's judgment.
"The academy will not be a safe place for you."
I did not say it as a threat. It was a warning.
"I know."
I did not like how quickly she answered. She was too prepared.
"That place crushes talent," I continued. "It breaks the weak. And it claims the strong. No one asks what you want."
"You do."
A single sentence. But the weight inside it was unsettling.
I resumed walking. She followed without hesitation. The distance between us remained constant, neither too close nor too far. A deliberate measure.
"Luciene, do not misunderstand me. It is not that I do not want you to go to the academy. But I shouldn't be your only reason."
"It should," she said. This time, there was a crack in her voice. "Because any other reason means nothing to me."
The corridors of the manor were cool. The stone walls had not yet absorbed the morning sun. Our footsteps echoed as servants stepped aside. When we reached my room at the end of the corridor, I closed the door behind me. I did not turn the key. There was no need. The servants never approached this door. Luciene was still behind me, one step back, as if holding her breath. When she entered and the door closed, her shoulders tensed slightly, but she did not retreat. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, she watched me. She waited.
I had tested her resolve. And she had passed. To answer so directly, without wavering or breaking. Yes, this was precisely the kind of surrender I wanted. It had not yet been put into words, but the fire inside her was like clay that would take shape in my hands.
I turned to her slowly and took a step forward. The distance between us vanished. Luciene lifted her chin slightly. There was no fear in her eyes, no hesitation. Only that same intense gaze. A look trying to understand what I would do, yet ready to accept it no matter what.
I reached out. My fingertips touched her chin first, then slid down as if caressing her cheek. The warmth of her skin filled my palm. She tilted her head slightly, an unconscious motion, as though trying to grow accustomed to my touch. My lips drew closer to hers. I paused for a moment, our breaths mingling. Then I kissed her.
She froze at first. Her entire body stiffened like wood. Her eyes widened in pure, unfiltered surprise, so unexpected that I almost laughed. She did not respond, only received it. As the kiss lingered, the shock began to melt, replaced slowly by something else. Her cheeks flushed, first a faint pink, then a deep red. Her eyelids trembled, then closed.
At that exact moment, I pulled back.
When my lips left hers, Luciene's eyes were still closed. Her breathing was uneven, her lips parted as if waiting for the kiss to continue. She slowly opened her eyes. The innocent surprise was still there, but beneath it, something else now glimmered. Hunger. A deep, suppressed hunger. The flush on her face had spread down her neck, her skin burning hot.
I didn't remove my hand from her chin. My fingers lingered there, gently pressing to tilt her head back, forcing her to meet my eyes.
"Good girl," I whispered. The possessive edge in my voice made her skin prickle; I felt it in the faint tremor that ran through her body.
Instead of pulling away, I took one more step, pinning her against the wall. My hands slid down from her shoulders to the laces of her dress. I untied them slowly, deliberately, never rushing.She didn't look away once. The shock in her eyes was gradually giving way to something softer, something like surrender, as if she'd been waiting years for this moment.
When the dress slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet, she stood before me in only her lingerie. The thin fabric did nothing to hide her; if anything, it traced every curve more clearly. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, her heartbeat so strong I could almost hear it.
"I should reward you for your determination, shouldn't I?"