Demo Lesson (4)
It's really a misunderstanding.
I truly never thought that.
Sure, I figured that if I kept rolling these kids around like tops,
maybe that blond idiot would snap and charge in first.
But that was it. Nothing more.
Yeah, yeah. Totally. But why can't I stop smirking? Heh.
Eric had briefed me on the standard way to run a first lesson.
Typically, you introduce your background, credentials, and family affiliation,
demo some swordplay, and wrap it up short and sweet.
That way, you draw a crowd for future classes.
Do I have to?
Back when I didn't even know who the heroine was, maybe I'd have played it that way.
But I'd spotted Soy Spoon,
and that dawn when I saved her mother,
I'd eaten some bread and run through a few verification steps while chewing.
*Munch munch*—
"Pardon? My father?"
"Yeah."
"Why ask? Is it about my mom...?"
At first, Soy Spoon was wary, even of the man who'd saved her mother.
"You don't seem to like your name much."
"...Well, yeah."
"I'll get your academy records changed for you."
"...!"
Zeke had pried her mouth open by holding her name hostage.
Soy Spoon's eyes widened like saucers.
"R-Really!? I was gonna beg the principal myself! But why would you, Instructor...?"
"Call it payment for the bread today."
Her face lit up, and she nodded vigorously.
Watch out so you don't get scammed out there, kid.
Watching her bright smile, Zeke saw echoes of his own past self—constantly getting backstabbed.
"So I need your background to make the change. You said your father passed."
"Yes."
"What kind of man was he?"
"Um, well. He was a commoner, but... they say he was super handsome and mysterious."
"His name?"
"Hero Spoon."
Zeke's eyes widened.
Not to mention, what the hell kind of names are these?
Obviously, her father had named her Soy Spoon.
"How'd he die?"
"Some weird guys showed up suddenly, whispered something, and he left in a hurry. Then they found him stabbed in a back alley."
Soy Spoon was the daughter of a highly suspicious man—from his hidden name to his death.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to dredge up bad memories."
"Nah. It's fine. I don't remember anything before age seven anyway. Don't know much about Dad."
"...Lost your memories, huh. How?"
"Yeah, hit by a carriage, they said. Oh, but some guy saved me back then. Um... Do I really need to tell you this for the name change?"
"No, just personal curiosity. Sorry."
Amnesia and a savior? Holy shit, isn't that the male lead? That sounds like your future husband!
Every casual detail from her past carried weight.
One cliché might be coincidence.
But commoner status, hidden past, overflowing talent, weird name, past savior?
Stuff you'd seen before, somewhere.
Would the author waste such prime plot hooks on a random extra?
Saving her mom was key.
If it were a normal connection—like male lead or friend—it would've taken ages to hear this.
But savior + name hostage + academy instructor status?
Her lips loosened like feathers in the wind.
If she's not the heroine, who is?
So Zeke focused the lesson on Soy Spoon's growth—and forging those who'd support her.
But this was a sweet-and-sour romance fantasy world.
Not dark fantasy.
So he based it on half the instincts of this body's original owner.
Anyone with bare-minimum willpower and grit could handle it.
We've got way harsher training ahead. Can't have crybabies leaking tears already.
Lost in thought, Zeke barely registered the Second Prince yelling nonstop.
"Why won't you accept the duel!"
"Wait a bit. And it's informal speech."
The Second Prince shot to his feet, pointing at the sword instructor and demanding a duel.
Zeke loomed over him, face blank and impassive.
"What the hell? What's going on?"
"The sword instructor and Second Prince are dueling?"
"Uh... is this okay...?"
The students exchanged bewildered glances, hiding their confusion.
When the prince stepped up, they'd hoped it'd end the brutal training.
But things escalated fast.
Zeke accepted the challenge but just said to wait—no other reaction.
To the students, it looked like the instructor would eventually break and bow.
Instructor...
Everyone but Serena, of course.
Then Zeke glanced toward the training ground entrance.
"Here he comes."
The principal barreled in, face pale as a ghost.
What the fuck is happening on the first day!
Principal Roto had figured Zeke wouldn't be all smiles with students.
The guy was blunt even with superiors—what about kids?
But clashing head-on with the Second Prince right away?
He'd rushed to defuse before it blew up,
only to see the prince challenging the sword instructor to a duel.
No way... this guy! He's with the First Prince!?
He knew the Second Prince's sword pride well.
The kid reviewed nightly in crisp pajamas.
One top name on that list: Second Prince Rosnante Leonine.
Zeke's name was rocketing up the latest revision.
If he was First Prince's man?
It explained Yohayden and Yustia's obsession.
Entered the academy to check the newly enrolled Second Prince!
Grab two ducal houses, curb the prince.
Made sense for first-day antics—Dios was the other option, no time to waste.
And sending Eric like he knew... Shit! I got played!!!
Lips bitten raw, the principal forced composure and asked Zeke,
"Sword instructor, what the hell is this?"
"Second Prince challenged me to a duel."
His casual tone pissed off the principal.
"You! Planning to brawl with a student as an academy instructor?!"
"Even a student has limits I can tolerate."
"What'd he say?!"
"My teaching method was insulted. This is the path of the sword I've walked my whole life. Same as insulting my blade."
"...!"
This bastard's dead set.
Caught off-guard, the principal turned to the glaring blond boy.
Normally honorifics, but Lamieli Academy leveled the field.
"Rosnante Leonine."
"Yes."
"You must do this duel?"
"Yes."
Seeing his blazing eyes, the principal swallowed a sigh.
"Your reason?"
"Can't accept the sword instructor's methods."
"Take Dios's class then."
"No. His way will ruin other academy students. I'll prove it with the sword."
Zeke unbudgeable, prince too—principal glanced between, then skyward. Fucking high and blue.
Shit.
No way out. Both had solid grounds.
Student prince challenged instructor first—fair on paper.
Outside academy? Laughable.
But here, equality ruled. Imperial seal.
Instructor > student, even prince—especially in class.
Thought no sane person would accept... but here he is.
Duel, not spar. Spars used wooden swords.
Duels? Live steel.
Principal pinched his brow.
No fix in sight.
Muscle it now, bigger fallout later.
Deflated, he said,
"Fine... Duel permitted."
Turned to students.
"I hereby witness this duel at Lamieli Academy as honorable and just!"
Leaned to Zeke, whispering,
"How far you planning to take this?"
"Was about to ask. How far can I go?"
Grinding teeth, principal realized power plays just hurt him.
"At least—no injuries. He's Second Prince, academy student or not."
"......"
"Answer."
"......"
"Answer."
"......Yes."
Finally pried words from Zeke's clamshell mouth.
Convinced he was First Prince's sly fox,
principal didn't think Zeke would lose to Rosnante.
But prince's skill is royal knights level, per objective eval...
Even First Prince wouldn't waste knight-captain talent here.
Even match. Zeke slight edge.
Principal's assessment.
Students cleared space at duel declaration.
Center: Rosnante gripped sword, eyes shut, breathing steady.
No matter the foe, I give my all. Even against the weak. No complacency.
Rosnante's rep: arrogant, nasty.
But with sword? Deadly serious.
Genius or not, never slacked training.
Be honest with the blade.
Sweat for strength.
Before sword, power, birth, wealth—all fade.
So cool your head.
Academy instructor at young age. Won't underestimate. But I'll win.
He sharpened his focus.
Target: black hair, black eyes. Northern noble maybe.
Tough environment builds sword confidence.
But above top, there's always higher.
Then Zeke stepped up.
Rosnante opened eyes at footsteps.
In hand... ba... guette?
You little shit!
Honor duel, not even wooden sword—bread?!
How much do you mock me!
Cooled head boiled over.
Self-appointed judge Principal frowned too.
"You sure about that weapon?"
"Yes. Sufficient."
Principal bored into Zeke's eyes.
No flicker. Shook head.
"Haa... Do what you want. I give up..."
Zeke nodded. Rosnante couldn't accept.
"Don't mock me! Draw your sword! Zeke Clayman!"
"Make me."
"You bastard!"
Prince's rage justified. Students buzzed.
"What the hell? Not even training..."
"Mocking an honorable duel."
"Doesn't he know who Second Prince is?"
"Rosnante! Crush him!"
"Yo, but that hurts like hell. Been stabbed, I know."
Rosnante danced like a sword bird, demanding blade—Zeke ignored, took stance.
No choice, shing—Rosnante drew.
Your mistake, Zeke Clayman. At least one arm out of commission.
Fair duel declared. Mocking taboo.
Nobles watching—no protest if Zeke's arm fell.
Support would rise for schooling the punk.
"Then—Lamieli Academy sword instructor Zeke Clayman versus Empire's Second Prince Rosnante Leonine. Begin!"
The duel started.