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The next morning, the academy felt… different.
It wasn't just the crisp scent of freshly oiled training gear or the faint tang of steel drifting from the courtyard. It was the way people looked at me—like I'd suddenly stepped out of the background and onto the center stage without asking for it.
I could feel the stares the moment I walked into the main hall.
Some were curious, some annoyed, some downright hostile. The whispers traveled faster than my footsteps.
"That's him."
"Apparently, he impressed both the archery instructor and the martial arts teacher."
"Two in one day? Tch… figures."
By the time I reached my seat in the lecture room, I already knew the rumor had mutated beyond recognition. For some reason, people now thought I'd done something special to earn that praise—something more than just hitting targets and blocking strikes.
And sitting two rows ahead, Ayaka didn't even pretend not to be listening.
Her long black hair caught the morning light as she turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at me over her shoulder. That little half-smile she usually wore—the confident, I-know-something-you-don't expression—was gone. Replaced by a sharper, tighter line.
Yeah. She'd heard.
The lecture hadn't even started when the tension broke like a snapped bowstring.
The door swung open, and the archery instructor strode in. Elegant as always—high ponytail, fitted leather tunic, every movement precise. She wasn't scheduled to be here, which immediately had the class buzzing.
And right behind her came the martial arts teacher.
This was already bad.
The two of them stopped in the middle of the room, facing each other like they'd been pulled here by the same invisible challenge.
"I heard," the archery instructor began smoothly, "that certain students may be… questioning my methods after yesterday's training." Her eyes didn't leave Ayaka, who was sitting very still, one leg crossed over the other.
Ayaka tilted her head. "I only said that I could demonstrate alternative techniques. Perhaps even on the same student you were so… fond of instructing."
The air tightened.
Before I could melt into my chair, the martial arts teacher stepped forward, smirking. "That 'same student' already has a sparring bond with me. You can't just claim him like a spare arrow in your quiver."
"Oh? And since when does holding someone's arm for a few minutes count as a bond?"
"Since I made him block me without losing his balance."
"Pathetic."
The room went silent except for the faint creak of my chair as I shifted, wishing for invisibility.
The archery instructor turned to Ayaka. "Fine. If you want to prove yourself, then let's have a demonstration match. I'll use the bow; you can try whatever 'alternative techniques' you think will help."
Ayaka's smile returned—just not the friendly kind. "Gladly."
Before anyone could respond, the martial arts teacher crossed her arms. "And I'll be the one to judge it."
This was spiraling fast.
And then… the headmistress arrived.
Every sound in the room dulled when she stepped through the doorway. Tall, graceful, her robes flowing like a midnight tide, she didn't need to raise her voice to command the room's attention.
"Ladies," she said with a polite curve of her lips, "I see the morning's energy is… lively."
The instructors straightened, though neither looked ready to back down.
"I appreciate your enthusiasm," the headmistress continued, "but perhaps it would be better spent focusing on today's lecture rather than… territorial disputes."
It was a gentle reprimand, on the surface. But when her gaze slid to me, something in her eyes glittered—a private, knowing look. She stepped closer, and as she passed my desk, she leaned just enough for her breath to warm my ear.
"Let's see if you can keep your mind on the lesson," she whispered, "when I'm already thinking about tonight."
The words sank into me like a slow, deliberate arrow.
She straightened and moved to the front as if nothing had happened, addressing the room with her usual composed authority. Meanwhile, my focus was fraying at the edges.
I could feel Ayaka's glare from across the rows.
The lecture was torture—not because it was boring, but because every time I tried to follow the topic, my mind replayed the headmistress's voice in my ear, her tone wrapping around me like silk.
When the bell finally rang, I stood too quickly, eager to escape the tangled web of eyes and unspoken claims.
I almost made it to the door before Ayaka stepped in front of me.
She didn't speak right away. Just planted her hand against the wall beside my head, close enough that her hair brushed my shoulder. Her expression wasn't playful—it was sharp, simmering with something between jealousy and irritation.
"So," she began, "you've been busy."
"I… was just training."
"Training?" Her tone dripped disbelief. "That's what we're calling it now?" She leaned in, eyes narrowing. "I was supposed to be your exclusive guide. Yet somehow, in one day, you've got two other instructors circling you like hawks."
"I didn't—"
"Are you collecting admirers, Jin?" she pressed, her voice low. "Or are you just too polite to push them away?"
I searched her face, trying to decide if she was more hurt than angry. But before I could answer, another voice cut in.
"Mr. Jin," the headmistress called from the end of the hallway.
Ayaka stepped back, her mouth tightening.
The headmistress stood there, calm as ever, though there was a glint in her eyes that told me she'd timed this interruption deliberately. "Walk with me," she said.
I followed, feeling Ayaka's gaze burn between my shoulder blades until we turned the corner.
The headmistress didn't speak right away. We moved through the quieter corridors of the academy, the echo of our footsteps almost the only sound.
Finally, she stopped at a tall set of double doors—her private office. She opened them and stepped inside, gesturing for me to follow.
"Close the door."
The latch clicked behind me.
She moved to the window, looking out over the training grounds before turning back to face me. "Word travels fast here. You've… disrupted the balance in only a day."
"I didn't mean to—"
Her smile stopped me. It wasn't warm. It was calculated, curious. "Oh, I know. Which is why I want to see whether it's coincidence… or potential."
She took a slow step closer.
"Tonight," she said, her voice soft but edged, "you'll take a special test. Not the kind the other students face. One tailored to… you."
My chest tightened. "And if I fail?"
Her gaze didn't waver. "Then you're not worthy of staying at this academy."
The room seemed smaller, the air heavier.
She moved past me toward the door, pausing only to add, "I suggest you… prepare yourself. Thoroughly."
And then she was gone, leaving me alone with a racing heart and too many questions.
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