"Well, well. It's quite the rare sight to see you, Edward, completely immersed in training," she said, her voice laced with playful teasing.
She's Yelena Valeblanc.School beauty.First-year Rank 1. Class favorite. Untouchable.And the last person I wanted to meet while looking half-dead.
"Why are you here?" I asked, my voice low and flat.
"Ooo, you replied back?" she said, clearly amused. "I wasn't expecting that. Knowing you, I almost thought you'd just stay silent and walk off the moment you saw me."
She chuckled like she found the whole situation far too entertaining.
"What do you need?" I said flatly, making it clear I had no interest in dragging this conversation any further.
"Hmm, nothing in particular," she replied, stepping closer. Her sweet fragrance reached me — soft, floral, and annoyingly distracting.
"I was just passing by when I noticed you training with such dedication," she said, amusement curling in her tone. "And I couldn't help but get curious… What made our sweet Edward, who'd long abandoned his potential, suddenly decide to pick up the sword again?"
As she spoke, she moved her fingers in slow circles around my chest — light, deliberate, and far too familiar.
"Tell me, Edward," she whispered, her mischievous red eyes locked on mine, "what's gotten into my always unmotivated boy? What's got you so determined all of a sudden?"
"It's none of your business," I muttered, brushing her hand away.
"I see… still cold and distant as always," she said, clearly not backing off. "Sometimes it's hard to believe that the sweet boy I once knew has changed this much."
She studied my face for a moment, her voice softening — though not with kindness.
"At first, I thought your newfound motivation had something to do with William's death. Like maybe you were out for revenge or justice or… something. But now, looking into your eyes?"
She paused.
"There's no grief. No anger. Nothing. You really are a cold-hearted person, Edward."
I said nothing. Just looked at her, blank and silent, not reacting to a single word of her provocation.
After a moment, she gently stepped back.
"Geez… you're no fun to tease at all," she said with a sigh, clearly dissatisfied.
Then, her tone shifted — lightness gone, replaced by something cooler, more focused.
"Well, enough with the chit-chat," she said, brushing an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. Her voice shifted — playful tone gone, replaced by something firmer, more resolute.
"Let's talk business."
She took a step back, standing straighter, eyes locked onto mine like this was a formal announcement.
"I'm going to be participating in the upcoming combat test," she said, her voice sharp and unwavering. "And this time, I want our class to win."
"So, Edward—make sure you take things seriously and give it your all. Don't disappoint… like you always do."
And just like that, as if her business was done, she turned around with quiet grace — never once waiting for a response. Like it wasn't a request, but an order.
She'd only taken a few steps when a question slipped out of my mouth, unplanned.
"Is that all you came to say?"
She paused.
Then slowly turned, her eyes meeting mine — but the playfulness from earlier was gone. Replaced by something colder. Sharper.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Edward."
Her voice was steady, quiet — but carried weight. No teasing, no smugness. Just truth that cut deeper than any blade.
"What were you expecting?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "An apology? Something heartfelt?"
Her eyes stayed on mine — unreadable, but not empty.
"If you really think I owe you that…" she let the words hang, "…then maybe you've forgotten how things actually fell apart."
She took a single step forward.
"Just so you remember — I wasn't the one who left. You're the one who pushed me away. Shut everyone out… one by one, until no one was left."
Her voice softened slightly — not kinder, just quieter.
"Even William… he stayed by your side when no one else would. And when he died…" she paused, just for a beat, "…you didn't even show up to his funeral."
Her gaze didn't waver."Surely living up to your selfish self."
She looked like she had more to say — something sitting heavy on the edge of her tongue — but she swallowed it back.
With a quiet sigh, she turned away.
"Just make sure you don't embarrass yourself in combat class."
She took a few steps, then glanced back over her shoulder.
"I'll be seeing you again, Edward."
"And this time… you won't be able to run."
After her final parting words, she walked away.
Silence descended as her footsteps faded into the distance.
And I just stood there — unmoving — staring at the spot where she had stood moments ago.
"Why did I ask her?" I muttered quietly.Did I actually think she'd say something different this time?
With a defeated sigh, my legs finally moved, carrying me forward while my thoughts stayed locked in place.
Her words still lingered — twisting inside my head, dragging up memories I'd buried deep for a reason.
That's what happens when one body carries the weight of two souls.When one tries to stay patient… and the other breaks apart.
A clear, peaceful day had ended with a bitter aftertaste.
You know, sometimes I want to let go.Let go of the past — from this life, and the one before it.But I know I can't.
The ghosts of my past…They won't let me go.They want to see me break — piece by piece, memory by memory.
Do you know why I never talk about it?Why I don't share anything from before — not from this life, or the last one on Earth?
Because I just can't.I don't have the will to.But I wish I could.God… I just wish I could.
That night, I couldn't find any warmth — not in my mattress, not in my room, not even in myself.My drifting thoughts pulled me back once again… to the man I used to be.
The cold crept in through the silence, and the shadows felt heavier than usual.The hours passed slowly — painfully so —as if the night itself wanted to remind methat it, too, can be cruel when it chooses to be.
The new day arrived with a warm sunrise… but not warm enough to melt the coldness inside me.
Classes came and went — the same dull lectures, the same routine practicals.Everything moved forward, just like always.As if nothing had changed.As if I hadn't changed.
And once again, I found myself back at the training grounds — swinging my sword.But this time, with a guest by my side.
Not exactly the kind of company I wanted,but I guess fate doesn't really ask for preferences.
"Your swordsmanship has become dull, Edward. It's not as sharp as it used to be."
Her words cut deeper than the blade I was swinging.Not because they were harsh —but because I already knew they were true.
"I've watched long enough from the sidelines," she continued, arms crossed."You're not making any real progress. Your posture breaks. Your body hesitates. Half the time it doesn't even listen to you."
She took a step closer, gaze unwavering.
"You're a mess right now."She said it like she was pointing out the weather — obvious and annoying, but not exactly shocking.
Then came that smile.That charming, smug little smile that always meant trouble.
"So, how about this?" she said."We have a spar. It'll help you improve… well, at least a little."
And just like that, she started walking toward me — slow and confident, like she already knew I wouldn't turn her down.Like I never really had a choice.
And yeah… she was right.I couldn't say no.Not to her. Not to this.
She stopped a few steps away, then casually reached for the rapier strapped to her waist.
With a fluid motion, she drew it out — the polished blade catching the fading sunlight as if it was made to shine under attention.She held it loosely at her side, standing there with all the grace of someone who knew exactly how dangerous they were.
No dramatic declarations. No smug challenges.
Just a look — calm, expectant — as if saying, "Well? You ready or not?"
I let out a small sigh and reached for my own sword.
Guess we're doing this.
"Ready whenever you are," she said, twirling her rapier once before settling into stance.
I didn't say anything back.Just gave a small nod — my usual way of saying "let's get this over with."
She moved first.
A sudden burst forward — fast, fluid, and precise.Her blade came at me in a clean arc, and I barely dodged in time, the tip grazing the air where my shoulder had been a second earlier.
The second strike came even quicker.
But this time, I managed to meet it with my own blade — a shaky parry, but a parry nonetheless.The clash rang out sharp and metallic.
Her movements were… too smooth. Too clean.Every strike carried weight and precision that felt impossible coming from such a delicate frame.
And yet, here she was — dancing around me like this was nothing but a warm-up.
As her sword struck again and again, I felt a dull numbness creeping into my head.The sound, the speed, the pressure — it was starting to blur.
I knew I had to act.Had to counter.But the real question was… where?
There were no openings.Not even the slightest one.
So I swung — aiming for what I thought was a gap in her stance.
And instantly regretted it.
A sharp kick slammed into my side, knocking the wind out of me and throwing me off balance.I hit the ground hard, pain flaring up in my ribs.
I groaned. The pain wasn't new…But damn, it still hurt.
She looked down at me, blade in hand, eyes unreadable.
"Get up."
And that… was the start of my beating.
Not just of the body — but of everything I'd been avoiding.
Each clash, each strike, each stumble was a reminder.
Of how far I'd fallen.
Of how far I still had to go.
And for once, I didn't run from it.
I stood again, not because I had strength — but because staying down never helped anyone.