In a closed private tent not far from the spectator's booth, I sat on a thin mattress, shirtless. The cold air was nothing compared to the ache covering my whole torso.

"Please, hold still," Clara said, her voice trembling slightly. She held out her hand over my shoulder, a soft, gentle warmth emanating from it onto my skin. "I can't believe an instructor would go that far for an exam..."

"Y-Yeah... tell me about it."

I hadn't fully grasped the extent of the punishment my body had absorbed until now. It felt like a bunch of heavy weights that I had been unconsciously wearing were suddenly lifted away by her healing.

The sharp pain in my shoulder—the one I had used as an organic battering ram against Cornellia—subsided, replaced by a familiar, numb tingling. It was the same sensation I'd felt in the Sareid infirmary right after the fight with 'Sebastian'. I once again wondered if my body was weird, or was I really just that abnormally compatible with healing magic?

"How is it now? Does anything still hurt?"

I shook my head and offered a grateful smile. "No, thank you for the healing! It worked wonders."

"I'm glad..." Clara let out a big sigh of relief. "Now, seriously, why did you rush over to fight an instructor, let alone Instructor Cornellia out of all people?"

"W-Well... I heard Carine's whistling," I said, rubbing the back of my neck in what I hoped was a convincing display of genuine guilt. "I couldn't just stand by and do nothing, you know?"

She fixed me with an intensely skeptical stare. Yeah, my decision to abandon Attila and the others probably didn't look great from the outside. But I had no other choice!

Please stop with the judging eyes...

She let out another sigh. Then, she shifted her eyes concerningly onto the two yellow flags sitting idly by my clothes. "Those flags from the instructor... Carine gave them to you, right?"

"Ah, yes," I said, blinking as if surprised by her notice. I gave a slight, awkward nod. "She... insisted she had more than enough points already."

To be honest, I could have allocated the exact fifteen points Feyt needed to pass, reserving the rest to bolster Carine's chance to enter Honors. But I didn't have much time before we were forcibly taken to separate tents for emergency check-ups. I nearly had to wrestle my way out of Father, Leila, and the weirdly terrified instructors just to give myself those two flags.

Clara was still sitting by my side, staring at the white canvas walls of the tent with some weird intensity. Before things got awkward, I cleared my throat. She blinked, seemingly snapped back to the present.

"Shouldn't you go help the others?" I suggested, looking toward the closed tent flap.

From outside, a wave of new arrivals washed over the spectator booth. They were examinees who had just gotten out of the forest. Some were out of breath, some were celebrating... but many were a chorus of misery.

"My head... it's spinning..."

"Ugh, I'm gonna throw up..."

"The pie... the pie is coming back up..."

I... I see the 'trap' with the lunchbreak has finally revealed its true, treacherous nature.

I turned back to Clara with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Really, I'm fine now." I rolled my shoulders as proof. "See? Don't let me keep you from your duty."

"R-Right..." she said, almost disappointed. She rose slowly, pausing at the tent's entrance to glance back. "Please, don't overexert yourself. I'll see you later."

I gave a firm nod before lying back down on my cot.

An instructor had already confirmed my twenty points, so for the first time all day, Feyt had nothing to do but breathe.

Also, a thought occurred to me.

Why is it that after every major fight, I end up flat on my back?

I really hope this isn't going to be a recurring theme.

...

While Feyt rested in his modest tent, Carine was being meticulously restored to a more noble, presentable state in another, more spacious tent.

The mud had gotten in not just my clothes, but my hair and skin as well. Thankfully, that sort of thing was expected out of a practical exam, maybe not to this extent, but still... Leila came in extra prepared.

Soaps, shampoos, a full change of clothes, and even my favorite towel had been procured from her. Even Father was thoroughly surprised before he left.

"Hold still, Lady Carine," she instructed softly, using a separate towel to gently dry my hair. "Are you hurting anywhere, My Lady?"

"No." I shook my head very gently, not wanting to shake off her gentle hand off my hair. "My right arm is a bit numb, but the Saint had already taken care of that."

"I see..." Her voice trailed off as she continued to clean my hair. "If I may be so bold, would you consider wearing a hat next time you're going mud-diving?"

I scoffed lightly at the joke.

Even now, she could tease. But I knew her too well. Deep down, from the way she looked at me to the way she held me, they all told me that she was deeply worried. I found myself smiling slightly at the thought of that.

My flags were still with Phil, whose I still couldn't quite recall.

He'd stayed behind to claim them on my behalf. I'd even used Feyt's ears to eavesdrop, confirming he rightfully attributed every single flag to Carine. The guilt of forgetting his name nagged at me, but the embarrassment of asking now felt... a bit too much.

Then I realized I could just reintroduce myself as Feyt later and get it that way.

Yeah, I'll do that soon.

As I relaxed into Leila's care, I let my awareness drift through Feyt's ears, tuning into the cacophony outside the tent.

A new group of examinees stumbled into the spectator area, gasping for air with only a minute left on the clock. Among their ragged breaths, one voice rang out, clear and concerned, and confidently familiar.

Attila.

"Is everyone alright?" she asked, her tone out of breath. "Quickly, where do we submit our flags?"

"Right here," an older, authoritative voice—likely an instructor—replied. After a moment of rustling and the clatter of flags being counted, he announced their points one by one.

Each of them had gotten at least fifteen points, with Attila herself at seventeen.

I was relieved. They should've had enough flags for everyone once I left the group, but I was still concerned about an ambush that could undermine everyone's efforts. Fortunately, that didn't happen.

The group let out a collective sigh of relief. But Attila's voice held none of it.

"We couldn't find Feyt after all... I hope he's okay."

I nearly froze.

Don't tell me they nearly missed the deadline because they were searching for me?

I felt... terribly bad for making them worry, after they appointed me as their leader and everything too...

I need to find a way to apologize.

Before I could dwell on it, Feyt's hearing latched onto a new frequency—a conversation from a more distant, presumably private tent. My father's low, steady baritone was unmistakable, answering a voice I didn't recognize.

What in the world are they talking about over there?

—

"Duke Sareid," said a gruff middle-aged man. He then bowed as deeply as he could while sitting down. "I would like to offer our sincerest apologies for the misconduct of one of our own."

Kyrat sat still, hands still crossed. He didn't respond right away, knowing full well the identity of the man before him. He was none other than Leister Harrenkeid, the Vice Headmaster of the Royal Knights, and the former general of an elite group of Royal Knights.

"Misconduct is a rather tame word for what has transpired, I'd have to admit," the Vice Headmaster continued. "But I will assure that we’ll determine proper disciplinary action for Cornellia—and, if warranted, adequate compensation.”

"...Cornellia," Kyrat mumbled. That name had felt awfully familiar the moment she went up on stage to explain the rules. But after witnessing her fully through the artifact's vision, he was finally sure of it. "Her full name is Cornellia Vur Lissenkeid, yes?"

Leister nodded. "Yes, and as you have probably noticed... she's your—"

"—Former classmate... and a great friend of mine as well, before I left for the frontlines at least." He refocused on Leister. "I knew her as being fiercely confident and always up for a good challenge, that's what made her a good sparring partner. But I have to wonder... what made her resent us so much that she would target my daughter specifically?"

The Vice Headmaster shifted in his seat. "Personal grievances or not, what she has done is indefensible. She would have to be suspended at the bare minimum of—"

"I understand the gravity of her actions, but, if I may be so bold... could you hold the suspension? I wish to speak with her personally first."

Leister's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed back to a calm gaze. "Unfortunately, Your Grace, we couldn't just waive away consequences after such a public display of misconduct. Furthermore," he continued, pausing for a moment, as if considering if the next words should even be said. "After the incident at your estate with the intruder... I'm sure she would have to be investigated for any signs of mind tampering."

Kyrat nodded slowly. It was a possibility that couldn't be ignored. But, if possible, he wanted to confirm that himself.

"I'm not asking you to waive them, but to delay the formal announcement for a moment. After I had my conversation with her, we may discuss further disciplinary actions."

The Vice Headmaster held his gaze for a long moment, then gave a slow, reluctant nod. "Very well. I will arrange a meeting within your schedule. But you understand, some form of punishment is inevitable."

"Naturally."

As the Vice Headmaster took his leave with a quiet bow, Kyrat was left alone in the quiet, spacious tent.

The worry in his heart regarding Cornellia sat still. Yet alongside it, another emotion stirred: a faint satisfaction.

He was once again proven right in trusting Feyt. And not just that, he had finally seen what Reyna had been telling him about since that day.

Right after Carine fell down the hole, he came shortly after to free her. It seemed he even abandoned all of his points just to get there in time, as if he valued Carine as much as his own life. But that chivalry wasn't the thing that caught his attention.

It was the way they fought Cornellia...

Kyrat remembered the faces of the spectators clearly, both from the parents of the examinees and the instructors who were reluctantly watching. They all had expressions matching his own. Utter awe.

He closed his eyes to remember the sight, the sight of the duet of blades those two had performed.

They had taken the foundational principles of the Sareid style and woven them into something entirely new, something that should have been impossible without a lifetime of shared practice. Every movement was complementary, every opening created by one was exploited by the other with preternatural timing.

How much did they have to trust each other for that?

How long did they train to have that synergy?

How did they even learn to fight like that?

Not even he could recreate that dance with Reyna, and he couldn't even imagine where he would start learning it.

So this is what Reyna was mesmerized by...

It was clear to him that Feyt was destined to become more than just a bodyguard to Carine. It was no longer a question of if it would happen... it was a question of when. He couldn't help but smirk at the thought.

----------------------------------------