Fire Punch Lena's Nightmare
Lena Fire Punch Lena Youngston had been seriously struggling with her morning grogginess lately. To be precise, it had started occasionally after she heard about that marriage talk from her father—nightmares that kept creeping in.
And this morning, she ended up having it again, inevitably.
The dream's setting was the dilapidated mansion of the Ashy Barony. Right in the center, out of nowhere, sat a gaudy sofa, with Ian Ashy lounging on it like some emperor.
The real problem was what surrounded him. Estelle, the head maid who always treated Ian like trash; the haughty Crown Princess Aefrid; even the utterly saintly Arina! All those high-nosed women were decked out in maid outfits that were suspiciously short and overloaded with lace.
And then Ian rummaged around in his embrace right in front of them.
—I prepared these for you girls.
In the most absurd twist, he pulled out rings. Sparkling, gorgeous ones at that! Stella Rings—the empire's finest workshop's creations, known as the Rings of the Stars. The kind any girl would dream of receiving if marriage was on the table.
Why the hell are you giving them to other women, Ian?
Lena's rage didn't end there. What came next was even worse!
The women who received Ian's rings blushed like schoolgirls, dropped to their knees before him, and opened their mouths.
—We will serve you, Master.
"Is this dream insane or what?!"
Lena bolted upright, yelling.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her heart pounded wildly. Her breaths came in gasps. In the dim dawn light, she sat on her bed, staring blankly into space for a while.
"...Ha."
Lena ruffled her hair wildly.
"You're crazy, Lena Youngston."
Recalling the dream once more, she had no choice but to admit it. She really might be losing it.
Ian, Ian, Ian, Ian.
Her head was full of him. What he'd eaten for lunch. Where he'd wander off to shoot the breeze today. Why he kept getting tangled up with the saintess. How the heck he'd reeled in the princess. And above all...
Why did all these other women buzzing around that guy piss her off so much?
Wait, is this... jealousy?
"Ugh...!"
This was the worst. Her brain felt contaminated.
Lena pulled the covers over her head and curled up.
Yeah. It was his fault. Making his childhood friend worry like this!
She'd never once thought of that idiot as a guy!
Then, suddenly, a scene from Ian's manuscript she'd snuck a peek at during printing flashed in her mind. The childhood friend heroine falling for the protagonist's... that, th, thi, thing... down there, anyway.
"Am I seriously crazy?!"
Why the hell do I remember that scene?!
Lena hugged her pillow tight, her face burning red.
She mulled it over. This wasn't her fault—it was Ian's.
"Right."
With all those girls swarming a nobody like Ian, no wonder she was on edge.
"There are so many scary women out there these days!"
It was purely supervisory. Especially the types who latched onto broke guys like Ian Ashy—they were the scariest. They'd strip you to the bone!
Saintess, princess—they were all dangerous.
"Hmph. You should be grateful."
Ian had always been scatterbrained, lazy, and in need of constant watching. That's why she had to keep an eye on him. As his childhood friend.
...As a friend.
Having reached that conclusion, Lena opened her wardrobe. Then she paused.
"..."
A skirt with a hem noticeably shorter than usual caught her eye.
Come to think of it, Ian had been griping about how hard it was to draw skirts. They had practice class together today.
"...Whatever."
She wasn't dressing up for anyone. Just a mood booster since she felt down this morning? Yeah. That's all. For real.
Standing before the mirror, she muttered.
"I'll show 'em."
Practice class drew most of the first-years. Perfect chance to show those vixens she was guarding Ian's side.
"Hmph."
Lena smoothed her skirt hem, spun on her heel, and headed for Ian's dorm room. Her hopelessly lazy childhood friend was bound to be oversleeping, even on a big day like this.
My eyes snapped open, and I immediately glanced out the window.
"...What the hell. Why do I feel so refreshed?"
No way—late again? But today, there were no chirping sparrows for the cliché wake-up, no warm, gentle sunlight.
Instead...
"G-Gah! Don't just pop up like that, you idiot!"
There was my childhood friend, clutching my shirt in one hand and snapping at me.
"You the sparrow? Chirp chirp."
"Shut up and get up already."
Yeah. Time to rise. But why did it look like Lena was sniffing my shirt?
...Nope. She was sniffing it.
Lena narrowed her eyes and asked,
"...So, who'd you meet yesterday anyway?"
"Huh?"
"Smells like someone on your clothes."
Lena flapped my unwashed shirt from yesterday, eyes slitted. She even buried her nose in it for a good whiff.
What the—why's a teenage girl sniffing some random guy's sweaty clothes?
"This scent... No way, the saintess?"
"How would you know what the saintess smells like?"
"Hmm... You've been hanging with her a lot lately, huh?"
Lena's voice turned oddly chilly. A dissatisfied edge to it.
I waved my hands frantically.
"Don't even. She's driving me nuts."
"D-Driving you nuts?"
"Yeah. Keeps popping up in the library—dodging her's exhausting me. Anyway, why're you sniffing my clothes?"
At my point-out, Lena's ear tips flushed red. She chucked my shirt into the laundry basket and exploded.
"Th-This? Ch-Childhood friends do this stuff, obviously!"
"...Childhood friends sniff each other's unwashed clothes?"
"Y-Yeah! For management reasons! You just leave 'em everywhere!"
Oh, like that? This romance-fantasy world's tropes run deep.
I nodded solemnly, muttering.
"Gotta add it to the setting bible. 'Childhood friends start their day by sniffing each other's clothes'... Memo."
"Wh-What?!"
Lena flailed in panic. Seeing it, I couldn't help but smirk.
Man, teasing Lena lately? Feels so good.
Not some new kink or anything. Just... I was in a position where I had to push her buttons somehow.
Couldn't use the original marriage bait anymore, so I was probing her weaknesses like this, bit by bit.
The issue? 'This is weirdly fun.'
I got up casually and sauntered toward her.
"Ah, well, can't be helped then. Gotta return the courtesy."
"Wh-What?!"
I grabbed her flailing shoulders, buried my nose in her uniform collar, and sniffed.
"Eek?!"
Lena's shoulders jerked up. While she froze, neck flushing crimson, I coolly analyzed the scent lingering at my nose-tip.
"Hmm... Floral with warm sunlight, and..."
"...?"
"Potato. You had potatoes for breakfast..."
Thwack!
Before I finished, a heavy blow slammed my solar plexus.
"Guh!"
"Y-You idiot! Watch your words! Potatoes to a lady?!"
What's wrong with potatoes? They're delicious. I want french fries.
I clutched my gut and rolled on the bed.
Not swordmaster level, but a countess lady's punch packed a wallop. Hurt like hell, but worth it.
Lena's new weakness list just gained 'sudden physical contact.'
"Tough... all these manners... Childhood friend or lady—which beat do I dance to? So hard... and painful..."
"Quit whining!"
Watching her huff, I tilted my head without thinking.
"Huh?"
"What. Why. Something else?"
Under her green eyes, dark circles stretched down to her jaw—ones that weren't there before.
She hadn't been sleeping?
Come to think of it, she was here early, even though I'd woken up sooner than usual.
"Hey, what time have you been getting up lately? You sleepy?"
Lena averted her gaze and cleared her throat.
"I-I'm fine. Not much of a sleeper anyway."
She flinched away, but anyone could see she looked like she'd pulled an all-nighter.
Separate building auditorium. Settling into the spectator seats before the real practice duels kicked off, I clicked my tongue inwardly.
'Ah. Craving popcorn.'
The cadets' buzzing energy all around, the thick tension. Swordsmanship department, magic department—every talent-packed jerk itching to crush the next. Coliseum vibes.
Prime popcorn material, right?
I turned to the girl beside me for commiseration.
"Lena, know what we desperately need right now?"
"Eh...? N-Necessary stuff?"
Lena swallowed hard, pondering. What was there to think about?
I narrowed my eyes at her, and she mumbled mosquito-sized.
"R-Ring...?"
"Pants? Why pants?"
So out-of-left-field I blinked. Glancing at her lower half—damn, short skirt.
My inner East-Asian propriety reflex kicked in.
"Why's your skirt extra short today? Mess up in practice and your panties'll show."
Thwack!
No answer—just a fist.
"V-Violence is bad."
Second hit today already. Her punches were tasting better each time, somehow.
Then, Estelle's cold, contemptuous voice echoed in my head.
Thanks, Estelle. Now I get why I got hit.
I rummaged in my pocket, pulled out a scrap of white fabric, and tossed it onto Lena's lap.
"Here, put this on."
"...? Wh-What's this... Kyaaah!"
Lena unfolded the pristine white bloomers on her lap and leaped back in horror.
"Th-This is women's! Why do you have it?! Whose is it? You perv!"
"Huh? Estelle's."
My honest reply filled her eyes with shock.
"D-Did you steal it?"
"Nah. Took it fair and square."
Took serious effort, though. Had to repeat "100% pure art reference for perfecting bloomer folds and texture" like a hundred times before she handed it over.
And I'd put it to good use for my childhood friend doujin.
"N-No excuses! What'd you do with it? Spill! You sick demonic perv!"
"Ah! Told ya! Just looked! Woulda been better if someone wore it, but!"
"You're insane!"
As Lena and I bickered quietly, the arena announcer's voice boomed through the hall.
Vinicius? That punk from the library who picked fights with me and brown-nosed the crown prince. Adam, huh? Tiny dick to match the big build? I'd use that if he started shit again.
Anyway, he was Lena's opponent.
'Did Lena drop out here in the original?'
Couldn't recall the plot flow perfectly. But current Lena wouldn't shine much.
She bloomed into a proper mage after Volume 1—post-mana rampage.
That's why I had to poke her into exploding somehow.
'Can't block her growth opportunity.'
Anyway.
"Hmph. Be right back."
Whether she sensed my noble intentions or not, Lena huffed and headed down to the platform.
After prep time...
All eyes locked on the start of practice. Extra hype since it was between heirs of notable count houses.
Popular guy—tons of cheers. Iron Sword? So tacky.
Couldn't let him outdo me.
"Hit 'em as hard as you hit me, Lena! Fire Punch Lena, fighting!!!"
"Die!"
Boosted by my cheer, Lena's killing intent spiked as she took stance before Adam.
Adam smirked, assuming position.
"Allow me to show a lady the Vinicius house's secret technique."
His sword gleamed, tracing a circle.
"Vinicius Swordsmanship, Third Form. Star Ring."
The instant the chuuni-ass technique name left his lips—
BOOM!
A massive explosion hurled Adam airborne, crashing down. Dust storm raged.
From within, spell-casting Lena huffed.
"The ring's mine!"