Following Grog wasn't hard.
He walked with a smug, unhurried pace, as if daring me to trail behind. I kept my distance, quiet and casual, until he finally stopped behind an old, abandoned building.
The shadows there swallowed the sunlight, and the silence made it clear — it was just the two of us.
Grog turned, his grin crooked and mocking.
"So, it's you. The Highlander who slept through the first exam with his head on the desk."
I smiled faintly. "That's rich, coming from the stray dog who got knocked out by one of my fists."
His grin twisted into a scowl. Just like before — quick to anger, easy to provoke.
I didn't waste time. "We're running out of time before the next exam. Release your Gift."
He sneered. "And what if I don't?"
I sighed. "Then you'll regret it."
That only made him laugh harder. "You should be the one regretting humiliating me in front of the prince!"
He charged forward with a hateful roar. I had no weapon — it was exam day, after all — but weapons weren't the point here. Every step he took closer made my body heavier, weaker, drained by his cursed Gift.
"Cool your head, idiot," I muttered, scooping up a handful of sand and flinging it into his face.
Caught off guard, Grog stopped mid-charge, rubbing at his eyes in fury.
"You coward! You dare use tricks like that?!"
"Call it what you want," I said, backing away as I analyzed the situation.
I couldn't approach him. Even sitting far apart in the exam hall, his Gift had nearly paralyzed me. Up close, I'd collapse instantly. His rank was only ten levels higher, yet the difference was suffocating.
So — I couldn't fight him directly. I couldn't use magic. I didn't carry weapons. Even if I summoned the Dwarven Blade through Kyle, that'd count as an attack on another student outside a duel — grounds for expulsion.
No. I had to find another way.
[Kyle, can you take out the Dwarven Blade?]
[Possible, but not recommended.]
Yeah, I figured.
There was no point revealing my secrets to trash like Grog.
Before I could think further, pain shot through my head — Grog was running toward me again, eyes wild, sand still stuck to his face.
"Tch!" I moved back fast, but my knees shook. My strength was vanishing again.
Grog stopped about ten paces away, smiling smugly. "Look at you trembling! That's how a commoner should act — run when I approach, bow when I stand still!"
He raised his chin arrogantly. "This is punishment! For daring to shine in front of nobles! You scored 'out of the question' on the last test — fail this midterm, and you're gone from the academy for good!"
I laughed under my breath. "So that's it. You're jealous. I thought nobles had pride — guess I was wrong."
His lips twitched, but he didn't rise to the bait this time. He was too confident.
"Swear it," he demanded. "Swear you'll crawl through the next three years quietly — invisible, obedient. Do that, and maybe I'll release my Gift."
My mind quieted. His voice faded into background noise as I thought.
If the Gift couldn't be broken by force, then what about the opposite — his curse?
[Kyle. What's his curse again?]
[It activates when he's hit by someone of higher status.]
Higher status, huh? Grog was the son of a baron. That meant I'd need someone of viscount rank or above to strike him — which was impossible.
Until I remembered something.
'When you can't find an answer,' my old captain once told me, 'take what you assume to be true and turn it upside down.'
I'd assumed I was of lower status. But what if I wasn't? What if Grog was wrong?
Sina's teasing voice echoed in my mind: "Already so close to the Imperial Princess, huh? You're moving up fast."
And there it was — the opening.
I straightened up. My posture, my eyes, my tone — all changed. Grog hesitated immediately, his confidence faltering.
"W-What's that look for, you bug?"
"Scared already?" I smirked. "Then run. Otherwise, come at me."
The bait worked.
"I'll shut that arrogant mouth!" he yelled, charging forward.
Each step drained my body, but I didn't move. I let him come. His fist slammed into my stomach, and I staggered, falling backward. He pounced, pinning me down, grinning triumphantly.
"See? You can't even move now!"
He was right. I couldn't — yet.
"…Hey," I said through clenched teeth. "You ever wonder why Myael, the Imperial Princess, joined the same group as me?"
That caught him off guard. "What nonsense are you talking about?"
"She wanted to know more about me. You've heard the rumors, right?"
His grip weakened slightly. He was confused — uncertain.
"During the first weekend, Myael's maid brought me somewhere. Guess where?" I paused. "Her private villa."
"Liar!"
The Gift wavered. I could feel my strength starting to return.
"Believe it or not, she even painted a portrait of me."
"Don't lie! A princess wouldn't care about a bug like you!"
He shouted louder, but his panic was showing. The Gift's effect was collapsing.
I smiled coldly. "If you don't believe me, come to my dorm. I'll show you."
"I-I'd never set foot in a filthy commoner's room!"
His words trembled. That was it — the moment the illusion broke.
Strength surged back into my arms. The balance shifted.
"Oh, right," I said casually. "One more thing."
[Kyle. The recording disk — from Merog.]
[Heh. Clever use of it. Fine.]
The metallic disk materialized in my hand. I handed it to Grog. "Press the button in the center."
He hesitated, but curiosity and fear won. He pressed it.
Merog's voice came through clearly:
"While Connor McCloud's grades are to be excluded from this test, further measures will be taken to protect his graduation eligibility."
The color drained from Grog's face.
"I-I antagonized the Imperial Princess… and the Academy itself…"
He dropped the disk, trembling. My strength was completely back.
"Hey," I said, standing.
"Oh, no…"
He barely had time to look up before my fist sank into his gut. He collapsed, writhing. The curse reversed — exhaustion now crushing him.
"I told you," I said quietly, stepping over him, "you'd regret it."
He tried to crawl away, but his body wouldn't move.
"Unlike you," I said, cracking my knuckles, "I don't think before I act."
His eyes widened just before my fist met his face. Again. And again.
By the time I stopped, Grog's pride was shattered along with his nose.
The Gift was broken.
The curse had turned.
And this time, the so-called noble was the one crawling.