CHAPTER 233: LEONA’S BAD MOOD [2]

Her real sword.

Her family’s blade.

It was sword that she received as gift when she entered the academy and hasn’t it used it till now.

It’s seems that it’s time to use it.

It was a famous sword. Not a treasured heirloom of her family or anything symbolic—but still well-known enough that most would recognize it. It wasn’t her first choice for casual use, but it was the most practical one for her current situation.

Originally, she had planned to keep it tucked away until after the first semester—until she had a better grasp on her capabilities and environment. But the more she thought about it, the more sense it made to bring it out now.

After all, no matter how excellent a sword was, it needed time to get used to. A bond had to be formed between the weapon and its wielder, through sweat and repetition.

Ordinarily, she would’ve avoided bringing such a recognizable weapon to a sparring match meant for training. It might attract attention, rumors—even pressure. But then, that one line echoed in her mind again.

—If you win, I’ll do anything you want.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"...Might as well give it a try."

Decision was made, she was going to use it.

The moment her fingers touched the case, a jolt of memory surged through her. Her father’s voice, stern and final:

—"Only in moments of true desperation. Or before the one who might one day stand beside you. Not for petty victories."

But was this petty?

If she didn’t use everything she had, Rin would always see her as someone beneath Leo and Ryen. She couldn’t allow that.

Not anymore.

She didn’t need his approval.

But damn it, she wanted it.

She unsheathed the blade just slightly. The edge shimmered faintly in the low light—clean, deadly, proud.

A part of her still hesitated. If she used this in the tournament, her identity might be exposed. Her father would be furious. The entire clan might retaliate.

But then she remembered how Rin had looked at her—through her—like someone already sure of the outcome.

She would force him to look again.

To see her.

Truly see her.

And if that meant risking everything... so be it.

The door creaked behind her.

She immediately slid the sword back into its sheath and turned, expecting an instructor or a fellow cadet.

But no—of course it was him.

Rin.

Leaning casually on the doorframe, arms folded, wearing his usual neutral expression.

"...You forgot to lock the door," he said.

Leona stiffened. "You’re the one who said I couldn’t win."

Rin blinked, then tilted his head slightly. "Huh? Oh. That. I didn’t mean—"

"I don’t care what you meant." She stepped forward, her voice steady but sharp. "You’ll see."

He raised an eyebrow, amused. "See what?"

She moved past him without answering, pausing only once at the doorway. "...Just don’t blink when I do."

And then she was gone.

Rin stared after her, rubbing the back of his neck.

"...Was that a challenge?"

It felt like one.

But beneath that, somewhere deep, he thought—

It also felt like something else.

Something... personal.

And far from over.

The sound of Leona’s footsteps faded down the hallway, quick and deliberate, like she was charging into battle rather than heading to training. Rin remained by the door, still scratching his head as the echo of her words lingered in the air.

"Don’t blink when I do, huh..."

A soft, amused exhale escaped his lips. That was definitely a challenge. But not just about swords or rankings or even pride.

It was her heart on the edge of her blade.

Rin stepped back inside, letting the door click shut behind him. He paced toward the small window, hands sliding into his pockets as he gazed out over the academy courtyard. Cadets milled around in the morning sun, oblivious to the storm slowly forming.

He had felt it.

That shift.

Something was different about Leona today. Determination—that was always there. But this time, it was sharpened into something colder, more serious. He didn’t need to guess why.

Because for a moment, when she gripped that sword—even if he hadn’t seen it, he could tell—something old and heavy had stirred in her.

And he had a feeling it was about more than just him.

...And he can sense it, her mood is very bad.

And Rin have know that it was due to his words.

Rin didn’t move for a while, still gazing out the window like the breeze outside would somehow whisper the right words to say.

Rin ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"I really messed that up, huh?"

The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became. She wasn’t trying to prove something to anyone else. Just him. His careless words must’ve hit deeper than he thought.

"...It’s been some time. One lifetime, specifically." He let out a quiet chuckle at himself, turning from the window. "But maybe I should do something for her. For once."

He walked to the small kitchen space tucked in the back of the dormitory. A simple counter, a few pans, and just enough ingredients left untouched from his last market run.

"Curry," he muttered. "Yeah. She likes that, right? Or at least, I do."

He set a pot down, washed the rice, and began prepping the vegetables with practiced movements. This much, at least, he was confident in. Cooking was something that carried over—one of the few memories from his past life that didn’t feel foreign in his hands.

As the aroma began to fill the room—spices simmering in the pan, the soft sizzle of garlic and onions meeting oil—Rin felt some of the tension ebb from his shoulders.

If nothing else, it would be something warm waiting for her.

Something that said, I see you now.

If she slammed the door on him, fine. If she ignored him, that was okay too.

But she’d eat.

At least, he hoped she would.