An Unexpected Doubt: "Are You Hiding Your Ability?"
Abel wondered if he'd misheard. For a brief moment, he suspected the man before him was playing some cruel prank. If he hadn't been an academy instructor, Abel might have shown his displeasure outright.
"Kalligo?"
"Now that I've said it aloud, it sounds terribly rude. My apologies, Abel. But I simply couldn't shake off my suspicions."
This wasn't a joke. No prank. The man was clearly wrestling with deep conflict and hesitation.
Abel couldn't deny feeling irritated. But instead of reacting emotionally, he chose reason.
"...I'll need a more detailed explanation."
"Of course. It started, as I mentioned, right before we attacked the Supremacists—when I cast illusions on the villagers to evacuate them."
Supremacists despised and mocked non-ability users for one reason: they were defenseless against ability powers. Only ability users could counter other abilities. That's why mental abilities rarely worked on fellow ability users unless vastly superior—they instinctively sensed the intrusion and felt unease.
Back then, Kalligo's power hadn't affected Abel at all. No illusions, no hypnosis. But Kalligo, in that split second while casting, had sensed something.
"How to describe it... It felt like you were already under an illusion or hypnosis."
"Are you saying I was hit by another ability user's technique?"
"No, not that. Hmm. It's hard to put into words. If I must use a metaphor, it's like you're under some massive delusion."
Abel flatly rejected it as nonsense. Impossible. He clearly enhanced his body. His ability sharpened his swordsmanship. If it was a delusion, what about the academy examiners who'd verified it? They'd reached the same conclusion. And the fight with Jureung, who sealed abilities—Abel hadn't gained any edge there, purely on the defensive, scrambling for openings.
"Maybe you just misjudged something, Kalligo."
"That's possible. But as a mental ability user myself, I'm attuned to peering into people's minds—for successful illusions, you start from within, after all."
To him, Abel just felt off. He couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but the sense of wrongness persisted.
Kalligo was so earnest that even Abel started seriously considering if something was wrong. He'd struggled so hard to awaken his ability. At first, he'd even wondered if survival instinct or endurance counted as one. Then came body enhancement and amplified swordsmanship insight—naturally labeled as Physical Enhancement and Swordsmanship.
Up to that point, maybe Kalligo's right—some mistake possible. But then? Examiners confirmed it, the academy re-verified it. It registered as a definite ability. Could that be deluded too?
Doubts crept in, but counterarguments dispelled them. A rational mind led to one conclusion.
"I've heard you out, Kalligo. When time allows, I'll take another close look at my ability."
"Thank you for listening. It's not certain—just a hunch. Verify it yourself, and if I'm wrong, forget I said anything."
"Yet you came all this way, so you must have some conviction."
Kalligo scratched his head with a sheepish "Fair enough," then added,
"I haven't told a soul. It's improper to discuss someone's ability with outsiders. No worries there."
"I figured you'd keep it confidential."
Afterward, Abel suggested Kalligo rest before leaving. He had servants guide him to a room and instructed them to treat the academy staffer well.
Hmm.
Normally, he'd head straight to the training grounds. Not this time. Abel sat in the parlor, lost in thought for over an hour.
My known ability... might not be my real one?
A mental ability user raising this possibility. No malice—he'd come all this way to help, just like before. A good man. That made it more confusing. His awakening was real. Verified. Yet maybe it was something else? Even fooling the examiners—and himself?
"Does that even make sense...?"
Strength gained through sweat. Value repaid in blood. He'd pushed his body to limits, honing ability and skill. No other power seemed plausible.
Abel's final answer: I don't know.
One thing unchanged: more effort. More sweat. Sometimes more blood, more wounds. This was an ability users' world. Romance fantasy or not, he couldn't escape it. Abel was ready to crash forward, breaking himself if needed.
"...Still not out?"
"Yes, still in the parlor."
"Heh."
Meanwhile, Abel's family had misunderstood entirely.
"If he's gonna mope like this, we should've never let him go."
"He never knew how to hold on anyway. A boy who seemed disinterested in romance changing this much—isn't it a good sign?"
"Hmm, you're right, dear. A very positive change. Indeed."
Normally, Abel would've bolted to training post-schedule. This time, after seeing off his guests, he just sat there, unmoving. The baron and baroness were stunned. My word—it was just like a man experiencing his first heartbreak!
Not exactly—no rejection, not first love. Seria and the two duchesses were mere visitors, and he'd see them at the academy anytime. Still, his demeanor screamed deep affection. Easy to misread.
"Bell did favor that pink-haired girl, Seria, at the academy."
"Heh?"
"Oh my."
Even Lumine agreed Abel had changed—maybe a sister-in-law soon! She'd seen him there often, so it fit.
"Doesn't seem right to me..."
Only brother Eberin saw it clearly.
Meanwhile, at Seria's Frijian Barony, chaos reigned.
The Rothschild family—one of Ascal Kingdom's top noble houses—had invited their daughter. The inviter? Rothschild's third son, a fellow academy freshman.
Seria called it casual, but her parents saw deeper. Inviting a noble lady meant intentions in high society.
And it didn't end there. Accompanying Seria: two duchesses from the Winter Duchy—equivalent to princesses with succession rights here.
"Wh-what is this? Good news, but...!"
"We must prepare flawlessly. Laughable compared to Rothschilds, but basics at least!"
A golden opportunity. Maybe the barony's rise.
As baron and baroness rallied servants...
"Tell us."
"Tell us."
Irshu and Tarshu bombarded Seria.
"Seria. Like Abel."
"Like Abel. Seria."
Not questions—confirmations. Denying would hand them Abel on a platter. Seria, sharp as she was, knew better.
"...How could I not?"
She confessed first to her potential rivals.
"Abel's helped me so much. Showed me the way, held my hand."
"Just help?"
"That's all?"
"No way! That's just a fraction! You might not know, but Abel's so amazing and kind...!"
Seria's passionate speech flowed, cheeks flushing pink with excitement. Irshu—or Tarshu—watched intently, eyes suddenly gleaming.
"Irshu. Look at that."
Seria waved her arms wildly in explanation, revealing what loose clothes had hidden.
"...Big."
"Huge."
Irshu and Tarshu glanced discreetly at their own chests, then exchanged looks.
That girl's stacked!