Chapter 6

Chapter : 6

Have you ever heard the saying about picking at something until it turns into a sore?

It meant that if you simply stayed still, you would at least avoid the worst, and romance fantasies often had situations that fit that saying perfectly.

One of them was the needless habit of placing an attractive female character beside a male lead.

Katarina beside Jefrin was exactly that sort of case. Since they were master and disciple, they were bound to spend time together, and if they spent time together, they were bound to grow close. Among the readers who rooted for Jefrin, some would inevitably begin to worry that he might end up with Katarina instead.

Whenever my sister ran into that sort of situation, she would add several settings to reassure the readers and make absolutely certain the two could never become a couple. Usually, she either made the female character a lesbian or gave her another fiancé.

Katarina belonged to the latter case. The man in question was Gilbert, a professor in the Alchemy Department.

And to make sure there was not even the slightest opening, not even the smallest shred of possibility, her love for Gilbert was described as bordering on madness.

In other words, Gilbert was practically Katarina’s one untouchable weakness. If I wanted to bring her over to my side, I had to win Gilbert over first.

Gilbert had fallen in love with alchemy itself, with the way small, insignificant herbs could come together to create dramatic effects, and whenever anything related to it came up, he became startlingly animated.

If I wanted to steal one of Jefrin’s greatest strokes of fortune, ‘Katarina’s instruction,’ then I needed a safety measure.

That safety measure was Gilbert.

Taking advantage of the brief break during the second examination, I found him in the dining hall and addressed him without preamble.

“By any chance, do you know what Earthroot Fleabane is?”

The moment I brought up alchemy, he grinned and answered.

“You are a face I have not seen before. Are you a new student? Your enthusiasm is already remarkable. Earthroot Fleabane? Of course I know it. It is used in making surfactants.”

Gilbert beamed like a child who had just entered an amusement park.

“That is its commonly known use, yes, but there is another. Potions made using troll blood cannot be used on the face or on extensive wounds because they stain the skin, can they not?”

“Well, yes. There are certainly people who obsess over the Church’s potions because they think any lingering mark looks ugly.”

“If you use Earthroot Fleabane, those stains can be removed.”

Gilbert lowered the spoon he had been using to scoop up soup and tilted his head.

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

“Truly?”

“It is true.”

“Ahhh!”

Gilbert shouted.

Every eye in the dining hall turned toward us, from those eating their meals to those clearing away dishes. Even people walking past stopped in their tracks.

Apparently embarrassed by what he had done, Gilbert pulled his hood over his head and hid his face. Even so, his eyes shone brightly at my words.

“Really? Young man, what is your name? Ah, if you are with the Alchemy Department, it should be in the records here... No, never mind, I can ask you directly. What is your name?”

As I silently listened to him ramble, someone who had been waiting at a distance came striding over as though she had used a teleportation spell.

It was Katarina.

Perhaps because she was conscious of all the eyes around us, her steps were short, but the speed of her legs was like that of a cheetah.

She closed the distance in an instant and spoke.

“Hey, examinee... what are you doing over there?”

A cold fire burned in Katarina’s eyes. Her brows twitched as she glared at me as though she meant to kill me.

I answered as gently as I could.

“Did you enjoy your meal? The food here is quite good.”

“Why do you not answer my question first? I asked what you were doing here.”

“I happen to have an interest in alchemy as well as swordsmanship. By chance, I met a professor from the Alchemy Department and spoke with him for a moment.”

Katarina flicked a glance at Gilbert as if asking whether what I said was true, but Gilbert ignored her and seized the front of my clothes.

“So it is true? Earthroot Fleabane really removes the staining left by troll potions? If that is true, then there is so much I can do with it. No, forget that. I need to go back and test it immediately. Raphael, was it? What was your name?”

“My name is Raphael. Raphael Isaac.”

“Raphael, once the entrance ceremony is over, you must come find me. I have no intention of accepting that information for free.”

“Yes, of course.”

Without even greeting Katarina, Gilbert vanished somewhere, muttering “Earthroot Fleabane” over and over.

Katarina clenched her fist and said,

“What exactly are you trying to pull?”

“It is exactly as I told you earlier. I am also interested in alchemy.”

Crack.

Katarina’s knuckles shifted with a grinding sound.

In that instant, the temperature around us dropped, and it felt as though pressure were bearing down on me from every direction.

Katarina had deliberately released her mana to intimidate me.

“To be honest, I am not especially clever. That is why I hate roundabout talk and dirty tricks behind my back more than anything. Speak plainly. What are you trying to do?”

Katarina seemed to know that I had not approached Gilbert out of pure intentions.

I swallowed hard before answering.

“I wanted to learn swordsmanship from you, Lady Katarina.”

Katarina let out a scornful snort, then grabbed me by the collar.

Her grip was so strong it felt as though my clothes might tear apart. I fought back the cough that rose in my throat as my breathing grew tight.

“If that was what you wanted, then you should have proven your talent instead of pulling this kind of backhanded scheme. Why would you go about it in such a revolting way?”

“Because I thought that even if I proved my talent, you would still refuse me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Do you know Jefrin?”

“That boy with the fast sword? He was on a different level from you. Watching him was like seeing myself when I was young.”

“Even if I were to defeat him, I thought you would still choose him, because his swordsmanship is more beautiful.”

Katarina released my collar by shoving me away so hard it was almost like throwing me.

“Professor Gilbert is someone who looks only at ability with complete fairness, so it does not sit well with me to hear that Professor Katarina, the woman he loves, is not like that. If I defeat him and still am not chosen by you, then I suppose I will turn toward the Alchemy Department instead. I ought to go where my talent is recognized.”

Katarina recoiled in outrage.

“Are you insane? Have you lost your mind? You think I would do something like that? Do not be ridiculous. I would never do that. If you beat him, then no matter what happens, I will teach you. Not that you stand a chance.”

“Then it is a promise.”

“Shut up, idiot. It does not even need to be a promise. This is my conviction.”

I smiled where she could not see it.

If she said that much, then the matter of who would receive her instruction was already settled.

I was confident I would not lose to Jefrin.

---

Both my sister and I liked fighting games.

The problem was that finding players of such a niche genre in real life was like reaching for a star.

To enjoy them properly, you needed all sorts of equipment, and there was an absurd amount to learn and memorize, so the player base was pitifully small.

Because we could never find anyone else to play with in that merciless situation, we became each other’s only rival and sharpened our skills against one another.

We played every kind of fighting game there was, including ones that used weapons.

One of them was called Warriors Fighter. It was a game built around medieval European weapons such as spears, swords, and shields. Jefrin had been based on a hero from that game named Angmaier.

Since this was a romance fantasy, battle scenes did not appear all that often, but it was still necessary to depict in precise detail just how strong and how impressive a male lead was.

That added to the character’s charm, and it also gave the readers a foundation for their little who-would-win games.

Each character needed clear traits and advantages of their own. The defining characteristic of the swordsmanship created for Jefrin was speed.

Just like Angmaier, the Warriors Fighter character my sister and I used to play, Jefrin lacked the damage of a single blow, but in exchange, he boasted an attack speed so fast the opponent could not even react.

His weakness was that his individual strikes did not hit very hard.

But what did that matter?

This was reality.

In a game, being struck by a weak attack merely chipped away at your health, but this place was different.

If a sword hit your arm, your arm was severed. If it hit your neck, your neck was severed. Even a single strike counted as a fatal wound, and in the worst case, it led straight to death. Jefrin was many times more dangerous than Angmaier had ever been in the game.

But no matter how fast an attack was, there was still a way to deal with it.

There was no way a game company would ever put a technique into a fighting game that landed without fail every single time.

That would have been the very definition of broken balance.

The answer to dealing with Angmaier in the game was simple.

You did not have to see the attack and then block it. You merely had to stop him from using the technique in the first place.

And that was a method that ought to work in reality as well.

“Ah.”

I had been imagining the sparring match with Jefrin that would begin shortly, when the man himself suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

The moment our eyes met, I scratched the back of my head without even realizing it. What was wrong with him?

Jefrin was always angry.

If he was in the same space as I was, then all the more so.

And yet, for some reason, he seemed to be in a good mood today. He kept his mouth pressed tightly shut, as though trying to hide his expression, but the corners of his eyes were curved.

On top of that, his voice was a shade higher than usual.

“With the way you are now, I knew you would make it this far. There was sincerity in each and every movement. It was dull, but clean.”

It seemed to be his impression of the sparring matches I had fought up to this point.

There were several misunderstandings piled up in those words. Sincerity in each and every movement? What nonsense.

The only reason I had fought that hard was because, even with simple movements, I could not execute them unless I concentrated fully.

I wanted to tell Jefrin the truth as he prattled on in ignorance, but I held my tongue.

This was right before I fought him.

There was no reason to reveal my weakness to the man I was about to face.

Nothing good would come of showing the truth, so I kept my face as blank as possible and said,

“Really? So what exactly are you trying to say?”

“I will fight with everything I have. And I will win. I will show you my swordsmanship in full.”

Ah.

There was really no need for him to try that hard.

I forced my stiffening fingers open and stepped onto the arena, drawing my sword.

Even the other applicants, whose admission to the department had already been decided by their defeats, sat down in the stands instead of going home and watched Jefrin and me.

Well now.

Some of them had even brought snacks.

* Jefrin is obviously going to win, so let us stop wasting time and go home. We have already seen enough to know the difference between them.

* They both made it to the final round, did they not? Is it not too early to say that?

* One minute. Even if it takes longer, Jefrin will finish it within a minute. I guarantee it.

* Then let us say you are right and Jefrin is definitely going to win. We can still watch. You said it will be over in a minute, did you not?

Everyone looked bored, as though the outcome had already been decided.

Then again, if someone asked me where I would place my money, I would have gone all in on Jefrin as well.

In truth, just as the spectators were saying, there was an enormous difference in ability between Jefrin and me.

“Ready.”

So unless I used a trick, there was no chance of winning.

“Begin!”

Katarina announced the start of the match.

At the same moment, I drew my sword up to guard my left temple.

Angmaier’s ultimate technique, ‘Crescent Slash,’ always came hurtling toward the opponent’s left side.

There was no seeing it in time and dodging it, so my plan was to place my sword there in advance and shut it down before it could land.

Jefrin blinked in surprise.