River and Dew
Speaking frankly, I figured even the most vulgar, colorful insults would land perfectly on Zigrinde.
Not because she can't control her temper. No, she's the type who already knows it's easier to smash through with a solid punch than to waste time on boring, pretentious arguments—especially when she has the power to force her will anyway.
"Heh, this is fun."
But right now, she was more scratched up than I'd ever seen. Truly, deeply pissed.
In the world of combat, agitation is a weakness.
Zigrinde surely knew that, yet here she was, veins bulging openly on her forehead. Was it because she didn't need to hide it? Or did it just happen without her realizing?
Swoosh—.
"Muttering about my family like that."
She swept her hair back and gripped her sword tighter, looking every bit like a rabid dog off its leash.
If little Kim Yo-sep from my dirt-poor childhood had seen those eyes staring up from below, he'd have shit his pants and bolted.
Effective.
So, on a scale of ten, I'd give this an eight for a start.
I wasn't sure if Irina had planned this far, but she'd asked for provocation coaching, and damn, she'd nailed the perfect trigger. The Grand Duchess lives up to her name.
But I docked two points for a clear reason. Namely...
Well, I'd see it soon enough.
"You look genuinely furious for once, Zigrinde."
"Of course I am. Who the hell are you to spout nonsense about my family, you outsider?"
"Parents worrying about their kids is natural, isn't it? I was just speaking in principle."
"Ah, right... So even after I spell it out like this, you're sticking to that obnoxious noble-speak till the end."
"It's not obnoxious. It's dignity."
Clang—!!
"Then I'll answer with my full sincerity."
In that instant, Zigrinde's blade bared its silvery fangs and surged straight at Irina in one explosive rush.
Irina tried to respond calmly to the sudden charge, but...
Clang, claaang—!!
It was woefully inadequate.
"Ngh...!"
"Hehe... Having second thoughts now?"
"No need for words. Answer with your sword—!!"
"Nah, you started it. Teacher said not to hurt you, but I can't promise that. Duels get intense—accidents happen. I'll just kill you today."
Zigrinde lost all reason in the face of clear rage and went berserk, but that fury, honed to the level of a modern sword saint...
Think of it like a river's current suddenly surging with ferocious power.
Sure, hours of buildup might shift the riverbed eventually, but waiting for that opening? Irina was just driftwood bobbing along.
A mere splinter of wood that could only float and preserve itself. How could it fight a river's flow?
Yeah. That was my worry—the reason for docking those two points.
Too effective.
Zigrinde, whose temper tantrums and twisted nature stemmed solely from her family, couldn't stomach the taunt that they might worry about her. But hey, who cares about the details of her past? What everyone could plainly see was that she was pissed.
Claaang—!!
From the spectator seats, Irina's disadvantage was obvious. Up close and cornered, she must have been utterly helpless.
"Damn it, damn it all—!!"
"No idea what lessons you've had with Teacher, but real sword training? Nah. How's it feel knowing you might actually die?"
"Whatever... You're still too shallow...!"
"Heh—. Does a 'shallow' person sweat that much?"
She'd held her own at first, but now Zigrinde was unleashing her true intent. She never missed Irina's openings, gnawing relentlessly like rot setting in.
For Irina, who'd hoped to bait out an ultimate move with provocation, the plan had crumbled from the start.
She must have anticipated something like this. But not this level.
But then.
"—Anyway, dying here wouldn't matter, right? Irina."
"...What?"
"Might even be a relief. If you die here, they've got a replacement for you."
"—Hey."
"Your twin brother, Ropf. Word is he's a total prodigy. Better than you, who can't do shit but grit her teeth. Dying here for him? Might not be so bad."
As the trash talk escalated, Irina's panicked eyes from moments ago vanished.
Replaced by something quiet. So very quiet...
"........."
Clang, claaang—!!
She began blocking Zigrinde's sword with mechanical precision.
No—her vision was probably fixed solely on those crescent eyes.
Everything else blurred into the distance, nothing visible but her opponent, crystal clear.
Rage. Murderous intent. —The primal instinct of the northern soul.
Click—.
Something had snagged.
"I'll never forget those words."
"Lame last words."
The driftwood, helplessly swept by the raging current, had wedged itself against a rock or bridge—some unyielding anchor.
Now, no matter how the river roared, the wood wouldn't budge.
Only serene endurance remained, perfectly poised for this moment.
Well done, Irina.
In that instant, Irina—who'd been relentlessly pushed back—read Zigrinde's attack, stepped back a pace, and created a sly opening.
Seizing it without mercy, she lunged like a lion, slamming her gauntlet into the gap.
"Kehk—?!"
"Music to my ears. Everyone said getting hit by Professor is a sight, but I missed it. Shame."
"—Pissed now?"
"Can't deny it."
She allowed short attacks but twisted away from longer ones, deliberately maneuvering her body.
You know that trick—taking a rabid dog's lunge head-on, then casually kicking it back to create distance?
"Ugh, damn it."
Repeating this forced even Zigrinde—who never missed a bite—to show gaps.
"—Perfect."
Irina didn't miss her moment, feigning a deep breath to lure her in, then swiftly backpedaled away.
"Running away?! At this rate, it'll drag till nightfall!"
"—Hoo, judge for yourself."
"But y'know."
"......"
"Creating distance against me? Big mistake, Irina."
As Zigrinde finished speaking, their crossing gazes sparked with intent.
Now. I'll take it seriously.
Now. I'll strike for real.
Zigrinde didn't hurl her sword like usual.
Thud—.
She unclasped and dropped her gauntlet to the ground.
And in that same beat, explosive mana gathered briefly at her feet.
Well, I could see it. But what about Irina's reaction speed?
"Die."
Craaaack—!!!
True to her reputation, a brief flash shattered like shards, sweeping across as the rift engulfed their eyes...
"Kyaaaaak—!!"
"What happened?!"
"What's going on?!"
The spectators screamed at the tangle. Zigrinde hung in the air, face obscured from here.
"P-Professor! Are they hurt?!"
"Wait, Tiel."
"Y-Yes... "
But I'd seen it clearly.
As Zigrinde's body rocketed forward, Irina had read it perfectly—just like our training—and shouldered the blow.
Blood flowed from the glancing shoulder wound, but it wasn't deep enough to stop her.
"......... "
"You...... "
"I blocked it, Zigrinde."
And not just that. Irina had grabbed Zigrinde's collar with her wounded arm, hoisting her into the air.
Plus, she was pressing her raised sword to Zigrinde's throat!
Soon everyone could see, and the stands erupted in chaos.
Especially Ropf at the far end, who'd been sitting still. His eyes bulged as he rushed to the front rail, straining for a better look.
Mouth agape, uncharacteristically.
Surprised, Ropf? With a good teacher, your sister can pull this off.
But despite the deadly standoff, Irina didn't pierce Zigrinde's throat.
Not quite chivalry, but she'd held the blade there.
Grip—.
"Hah, hahahaha...!"
"Let go, you bastard...!"
"I'll admit it. You've learned well—?! That runt's grown a bit. First to block this was Teacher, and you two were pulling it off—!!"
Instinct or training—Zigrinde had reflexively clamped the incoming blade with her hand, halting it!
Irina twisted in shock, spilling blood, but Zigrinde showed no pain, kicking her while collared.
Wham—!
"Kyak...!"
"Well fought, Grand Duchess. You've gotten stronger?"
She slowly approached the fallen Irina, gripping her sword two-handed for an overhead strike.
"—Guhk?!"
"Match over. That's enough, students."
I'd slipped behind Zigrinde at some point, grabbing her shoulder.
"Wh-What? Felt that presence again—oh, Teacher..."
She staggered slightly, sensing something from me again, but I ignored it and did my job.
"The duel between the ladies of House Pernov and House Einheart ends here."
"......"
"Judgment: Zigrinde Einheart wins by decision. No reversals. Any objections?"
She'd flattened her opponent flat-out. Only decapitation remained, so yeah, Zigrinde won fair and square.
Zigrinde glanced at the sprawled Irina, then at me.
"Tch, this'll do. She's as good as dead anyway. ...No objections."
She turned away.
"Good fight, Zigrinde."
Plain and simple. Fitting for battle-food royalty like her. She dominated anyway, so no surprise.
But still...
"...Student Irina."
"Ha, haha..."
"Student Irina, you okay? Can you stand?"
Irina hadn't fought poorly at all. Compared to getting sucked into Zigrinde's sword before, this short-term progress was phenomenal.
Bad result aside, I worried she might get depressed.
"Hahahahaha—!! Uhahahaha...!!"
"Student Irina...?"
She laughed.
Just laughed.
Blasting away my petty concern with refreshing clarity.
"Ah, no objections, Professor..."
"Good to hear."
"—I never thought I could do this much. I'm satisfied. Thank you."
For her, who'd thrown everything she had, win or loss didn't matter much.
Even a grand public defeat hadn't shattered her pride.
"I did it."
Her beaming smile bore dewdrops at the edges—traces of the subsided rapids' passage.
* * *
After the duel ended and the day's schedule wrapped, heading back to my quarters.
"Ah, this fucking sucks......"
I muttered it sucks. Not some big deal—just office worker passive skill. End of a grueling day, and it auto-triggers.
Irina and Zigrinde's duel went exactly as hoped.
Didn't care who won, but Irina seemed satisfied, and Zigrinde proved her worth true to form.
If both are happy, teacher's happy too.
But overseeing it all, I felt relief at clearing a mountain—mixed with the void of knowing I'd endure this shitshow another year before easing up.
Guiding the kids and fostering growth is great, but nonstop busyness is full-time life.
Day ends and fuck... I don't wanna do shit.
Special appointment over full-time would be nicer.
Can't be helped. Got to protect Sion for Sir Raval. Survive this year, apply for special next year. Definitely...
Grrrowl—.
"Ah."
Then my stomach roared fiercely, reminding me I'd skipped meals focusing on duel supervision.
But right now, I just wanted bed. No energy to cook.
Should've grabbed takeout on the way.
Damn it.
"...Huh?"
Then, under the romance-fantasy streetlamp in the deepening night before my quarters, someone stood quietly.
Wearing a hat, tall and slender. Long, thin hair in a ponytail.
Oh my god. Eight-foot ghost?
Her face shadowed, she glanced back, her expression brightening.
"P-Professor...!"
Only then did I recognize her.
"Huh, Student Alrun!"
"...E, ehehe. Good evening."
"What brings you here? Discharged?"
"Yes. Condition's much better. Burns healing too. Just need outpatient now."
"You should've said something. Everyone could've come..."
"N-No, it's fine. Still hate the stares..."
Glancing over, scars remained, but way better than the gruesome state before.
Aigoo...
"So, what're you doing here?"
"Ah, well... Went to the office to see you directly, but heard you were judging Irina and Zigrinde's duel..."
"See you tomorrow then."
"......It'd run late. You probably skipped dinner?"
How'd she know? Woman's intuition?
Anyway, with a silken smile that chilled me to the bone just looking,
"You must be exhausted. If it's okay, may I make you dinner...?"
"Uh, uh..."
"No need to refuse. Anything you crave? I can handle most imperial dishes."
Right. She said she'd be my housekeeper post-discharge.
But still. Why wait till night for a girl like her?
"...Don't worry about me, Alrun. I'm fine."
Fatigue vanished. Gotta walk her back to the dorm tonight.
"—Ugh."
But as I said I was fine, Alrun's face paled ghostly in the dark.
"Alrun...?"
"Fine? Why, why are you fine...?"
"Just what I said."
Hic, sob—.
"—You don't need me?"
Ah, no. That's not it, kid.