"Uh… if I said I was training, would you believe me, President?"
Meteor's pale, powerless excuse—paired with the way her eyes drifted everywhere except Rudolf's face—only made Rudolf's expression darken further.
"Then tell me. What were you training?"
She folded her arms, forcing down the anger boiling in her chest, and waited. She wanted to see what kind of nonsense Meteor would try to feed her this time.
But Meteor's eyes lit up instead—she actually thought Rudolf had accepted the explanation.
"I was just practicing my gate start. You know that, President—I started slow in the race, so I reflected on it and worked to fix it!"
Meteor beamed, grinning broadly as she spoke, even waving her arms as if she were talking about something trivial.
Rudolf's blood pressure spiked again.
That utterly unconcerned smile… Rudolf's breathing turned sharp, as she fought the urge to grab Meteor off the bed and beat some sense into her.
"And that whole body covered in blood—was that part of your 'training' too?"
"Yep. I mistimed it and smashed into the gate. But that's exactly why you have to keep practicing, right? This time I just didn't take breaks in the middle…"
"This time? Always?"
Rudolf zeroed in on those two words like a predator. Meteor kept counting off her reasons on her fingers, but Rudolf couldn't listen anymore.
"How can you be this careless with your own body?!"
She had met horse girls who trained desperately. She had seen athletes who raced like their lives depended on it.
But she had never seen someone wager their life just to train.
To Rudolf, using your own life as currency—spending it to force progress—was beyond irrational. It was unthinkable.
Meteor shrank, startled by the shout. She had never seen Rudolf this angry. In the dorm, Rudolf was usually warm, even cheerful.
Meteor tried one last time to soothe her with words.
"It's fine, President. I'm not seriously hurt—look, I'm almost healed already."
Still smiling, she reached up to peel off the bandage wrapped around her head—
…then tugged twice, failed, and got laser-focused on "beating" the bandage like it was a personal enemy.
That was it.
The rope of restraint Rudolf had been holding snapped clean.
With one hand, she seized Meteor by the collar and yanked her upright.
"This isn't training! This is suicidal behavior! You survived this time—what about next time?! Do you really think this was 'a small injury'? When they brought you in, you'd already lost so much blood that you were rushed into emergency treatment—do you even understand that?!"
"I just—"
"Just what? Still going to claim you were 'only training'? Listen: I don't know what you've been through to become like this, but the way you're living now—anyone who sees it will call it what it is: self-destruction!"
Ah… getting yelled at. Meteor's thoughts drifted, almost lazily.
If I just wait it out, she'll calm down eventually, right? I don't want things to blow up between me and Rudolf… I'll keep quiet and put on a 'I know I was wrong' face.
But Rudolf kept going—because to her, this wasn't negotiable.
"Did you actually listen to anything I said before? I understand you've suffered a lot, but why won't you think about what comes after—about your future? Even in that race, you didn't care about your body at all. Are you going to wait until you end up in a wheelchair before you regret it?!"
Rudolf didn't notice that Meteor's expression was no longer frightened. It had gone still—and cold.
Rudolf took a deep breath, preparing to keep lecturing.
Because for someone like her—someone who had vowed to protect horse girls—Meteor's self-harm was a direct hit to the bottom line of everything Rudolf believed.
This had to be corrected. Maybe Meteor's childhood had shaped her.
But Rudolf could not—would not—allow this to continue.
Then Meteor's voice cut in—sharp, raw, and burning.
"And what exactly have you 'understood' about me?"
Reason told Meteor that Rudolf was worried. That Rudolf didn't know the truth about what had happened to her, and that was normal.
But the anger still boiled up uncontrollably.
Why couldn't she crush it down?
Her teeth ground together with a harsh, grating sound. Her eyes looked like they held live fire. Meteor stared at Rudolf like a cornered beast.
"Understanding my past? Telling me to think about my future? Are you joking, Rudolf?! Like some kind of clown routine?"
She clenched her jaw, tightening every muscle in her face, trying desperately not to cry—
and the harder she fought it, the more her eyes betrayed her.
Tears forced their way out, sliding down to the corners of her mouth—upturned, trembling.
"I don't have that damn 'past.' And I don't need some bullshit 'future.' I just want to hold on to the now that belongs to me!"
Rudolf's right hand, which had been clenched, opened and rose—hovering close to Meteor's face.
But Meteor didn't flinch.
She didn't look away.
With tears on her face and something like laughter in her expression, she shouted straight at Rudolf:
"Go on! Hit me! Right here! Hit me as hard as you can! Isn't that what you do when you can't win with words—use violence to force someone to submit? Rudolf Symboli!!"
Rudolf's raised hand slowly lowered.
Her chest still heaved with rage—but Meteor was right about one thing:
Rudolf had never truly understood Meteor's past. She had been educating her from a place of assumption.
If she struck her now, it would only prove Meteor's accusation and ignite the conflict further.
It would solve nothing.
"…I'm sorry."
What Rudolf needed to do—what they both needed—was time to cool down.
Time to investigate.
Time to understand.
Time to find the real cause of why Meteor had become like this.
Rudolf was not someone who denied her mistakes.
If she was wrong, she would say so.
After apologizing, she set Meteor back onto the bed, turned, and walked out quickly.
Meteor remained, stunned by the apology.
Before Rudolf closed the door, she still made sure to handle practical matters—because that was the kind of person she was.
"I've paid the medical bills. The medicine the doctor prescribed is on the bedside cabinet—take it according to the instructions."
The door shut softly.
Meteor stared at it… then turned her head toward the medicine on the cabinet.
She lowered her gaze.
Silent.
Drip. Drip.
Tears fell onto the blanket covering her legs, staining it in patch after patch. She bit down hard on her trembling lip—so hard that blood seeped out—yet she didn't react at all.
"Why…? Why can't I control myself?"
Her voice shook with tears, growing louder and louder—unclear whether she was asking someone else, or asking herself, or screaming into her own heart.
"I was trying to hold it in. I was so close—I was almost past it…! Why?! Why?!"
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 80)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 80)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 74)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter20)
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