The past few days had been nothing short of a personal attack.
Truly.
I would like to formally apologize to my past self—the overly confident, wildly delusional version of me—who thought "Sure, sword training won't be that hard."
What a fool.
It had been a full week since I began training.
A week of synchronizing schedules with Theo and Father, while Knight Seraphine oversaw my lessons with the enthusiasm of someone who genuinely enjoyed watching people suffer.
The first two days were… tolerable.
The third day was suspicious.
By the fifth day, my body had officially filed a complaint.
At first, I ignored the soreness. Muscle pain was normal. Expected. Character-building, even.
Then my breathing started to feel tight.
Then my vision blurred.
Then everyone in the manor started panicking.
Apparently, turning pale enough to resemble a haunted porcelain doll was concerning.
Who knew?
I vaguely remembered Mother and Father warning me not to push myself.
And now here I was.
Flat on my bed.
With a fever.
Suffering the consequences of my own ambition.
Doctor Aurelia sat beside me, calm and unbothered, her fingers pressing lightly against my wrist as she checked my pulse.
"Still experiencing headaches, young miss?" she asked.
I nodded weakly.
Talking felt like an Olympic sport I was unqualified for.
"I see," she murmured. "Then we proceed with medicine."
She stood, retrieving a small green bottle from her bag.
My soul left my body.
The liquid inside looked suspiciously thick. The smell alone was enough to traumatize me.
Surely… surely there was healing magic for this?
Was this really necessary?
"Young miss," Doctor Aurelia said patiently, lifting a spoon, "open your mouth."
I shook my head.
Firmly.
She sighed.
Then—traitorously—held my face and poured the medicine in anyway.
The bitterness assaulted every sense I possessed.
I gagged.
She smiled politely.
Cruel woman.
After she left, Selene entered with a bowl of cool water, pressing a damp cloth to my forehead. Anya and Mira opened the curtains, letting sunlight spill into the room.
Cold water brushed over my hands and legs, sending a shiver through me—but it helped. The fever receded slowly, reluctantly.
My parents entered soon after.
Mother's gaze alone could have killed dragons.
"You overdid it," Father said gently, though disappointment laced his tone.
"I'm banning training until you recover," Mother said, final and merciless.
I tried to protest.
Failed.
I spent the entire day trapped in bed.
Bored.
Utterly, tragically bored.
Theo visited whenever he could, sitting beside me and filling the silence with conversation.
"Are you going to continue training after this?" he asked quietly.
I hesitated.
"Not sure," I admitted. "Maybe magic would be enough."
He flicked my forehead lightly.
"Ow!"
"Think smarter," he said. "Magic tools. Defensive artifacts."
Why hadn't I thought of that?
Still… the idea of being helpless without magic unsettled me.
"I'll stop if I get sick again," I declared.
Theo sighed. "You're impossible."
We shook on it anyway.
Once I recovered, my lessons were temporarily suspended.
Which meant freedom.
I spent the day in the library, then wandered into the mini forest, chasing puffballs and reclaiming what little joy life allowed me.
"That looks fun," a voice said.
I turned.
No one.
"…Weird."
"Aren't you bored?" the voice whispered again.
Still no one.
Then—
I lifted off the ground.
"WHAT."
I floated higher.
"PUT ME DOWN!"
Suddenly, gravity returned—briefly—before catching me again inches above the ground.
I landed on my backside.
Laughter echoed through the trees.
Hyena-like. Mocking.
I stormed back to the manor, covered in leaves and fury.
Theo stared at me in horror. "Did you fall out of the sky?"
"…Something like that."
Selene checked me over frantically. No injuries.
Dinner was chaos.
I said nothing.
Because I didn't know who to accuse.
The next day, training resumed.
I wore proper clothes this time—boots, shorts, tied hair.
Knight Seraphine attacked without mercy.
I blocked. I retreated. I lost.
Every. Single. Round.
And yet—
"You're improving," she said bluntly. "Still terrible. But better."
High praise.
Back in my room, Anya fussed over my hands. Mira suggested gloves.
I doubted they'd help.
Dinner passed quietly—until Mother spoke.
"Prepare yourselves," she said. "We're going somewhere tomorrow."
"Where?" Theo and I asked together.
She smiled.
"That's a secret."
Later that night, as the manor slept, I sat upright and wrote a single sentence on fresh parchment:
Find the one who made me float.
That prank would not go unanswered.