Selection Tournament (1)
Only four students from each academy could compete in the Imperial Capital Festival.
No matter how exceptional an institution's student body might be, the quota remained strictly capped. Nor did securing a spot as a school representative mean the struggle was over; if anything, that was merely the starting line. It was nothing more than clearing the very first hurdle among the gauntlet required to reach the festival's main stage. The representatives chosen from each academy advanced to the Regional Preliminaries, where they had to clash with the finest talents from neighboring schools and survive. Only those who emerged victorious from that grueling series of elimination matches would earn the right to have their names inscribed in the final sixty-four-bracket tournament held in the Imperial Capital. The road ahead was still dauntingly long.
A few days later.
The moment I stepped out of the dormitory and entered the main building, the hallway was buzzing with far more noise than usual. A thick crowd of students had clustered around the central bulletin board since early morning.
What's going on?
As I drew closer, fragments of excited chatter drifted over the heads of the crowd.
"Aren't this year's representatives basically already decided?"
"You mean Rowell and Walker, right? They're the best the Swordsmanship Club has to offer."
"Erika is plenty strong too, so she'll probably make the cut."
Only then did the reason for the commotion dawn on me. The bracket for the School Representative Selection Tournament had finally been posted.
As I made my way toward the board, a few students noticed my approach. Whispers tapered off one by one until, before long, every eye in the corridor had naturally converged on me. As I stepped forward, the students edged away to clear a path. They certainly weren't parting out of respect, but it made things convenient enough. At least I didn't have to shoulder my way through a wall of people.
Skimming down the tournament bracket, I quickly located my name.
[School Representative Selection Tournament — Round 1]
Han Yoosung vs. Walker
Walker, huh?
Reactions burst out from behind me almost immediately.
"Whoa. He's up against Walker right out of the gate."
"It's over for him."
One guy spoke up loud enough to ask me straight to my face.
"Hey, you really think you can beat Walker?"
"It's gonna be one match and done anyway. You might as well give up now."
I saw no reason to waste my breath humoring them. When I casually ignored their remarks, the guys clicked their tongues in annoyance and slunk away.
Walker wasn't someone unfamiliar to me. Rather, he was prominent enough in this academy that not knowing him would have taken deliberate effort. Frivolously flowing golden hair that swished with every step. He was obsessed with his appearance, often spotted primping and brushing his hair in the boys' restroom. In my eyes, he was greasy beyond belief—like butter spread over cheese and drizzled with mayonnaise. Yet among the girls, that brand of vanity apparently worked wonders.
Of course, what mattered right now wasn't his looks, but his skill. Walker was a varsity regular and the vice president of the Swordsmanship Club. Word had it that he had fought Rowell, the current club president, in a best-of-three match for the top seat, narrowly losing the final bout before settling into the vice presidency.
I suppose there's a reason everyone considers him a shoo-in for the representative slots.
Still, I didn't feel like grumbling about bad tournament luck. My goal wasn't merely to become a school representative. It was to win the Imperial Capital Festival. If I intended to claw my way to the top, he was an opponent I was destined to face sooner or later anyway. He had simply arrived early.
Maybe this is a good opportunity.
For the past six months, I had lived like a cloistered ascetic, doing nothing but swinging my sword. By now, the blade felt like a natural extension of my own body. If there was one lingering concern, it was that I had rarely tested my skills against real people. My only combat partner had been Master. And because his swordsmanship was so wildly erratic and miraculous, every single spar felt like facing an entirely different being. As a result, I had never felt the need to go out of my way to seek other sparring partners.
Walker will make a decent benchmark.
If I couldn't even get past him, I had to be honest with myself. It would mean my goal of winning the Imperial Capital Festival was nothing more than an arrogant delusion. To say I wouldn't regret the half-year of blood and sweat I had poured into training would be a lie. Admitting that this was all I amounted to—there was no way that wouldn't sting. Yet I hated the thought of clinging stubbornly to a dead end even more. If the festival wasn't an option, I would find another way: a way to force a reinvestigation into my father's case; another avenue to secure an audience with the Emperor. If none existed, I would carve one out myself. As many times as it took.
Some might call it fickle to shift goals so readily, but every single day was urgent to me. Even as I stood here passing the time, my father was locked away in prison, and my mother was sick with worry at home. If a path held no promise, I had to abandon it without hesitation.
Even so... I don't feel like I'm going to lose.
Having verified my opponent, there was nothing left to see. The next round's matchups hadn't even been determined yet, and I had no one in particular to cheer for. Loitering here would only increase the chances of getting dragged into needless drama.
Time to go.
Just as I turned on my heel—
"Han Yoosung."
Someone called my name.
Turning my head, I saw a male student strolling toward me, flanked on either side by girls clinging to his arms with effortless swagger. The shimmering blond locks alone gave him away.
"...Walker."
My first-round opponent.
He closed the distance and curled his lips into a smirk.
"Judging by that look on your face, you must have checked the bracket."
"Yeah. Looks like I'm up against you."
"Then this will be quick."
"What will?"
Walker ran a hand through his golden hair.
"A word of advice. Why don't you withdraw right now?"
The surrounding murmurs gradually died down. Tomorrow's combatants had crossed paths, and naturally, all attention snapped in our direction. As if he had been waiting for this exact spotlight, Walker raised his voice.
"Do you really think it makes any sense for the son of a traitor to represent this academy at the Imperial Capital Festival?"
Only then did I realize why he had bothered to seek me out. He had planned from the start to publicly humiliate me in front of everyone. And in that regard, it worked wonders. Murmurs erupted around us on cue.
"He's not wrong, is he?"
"His father was sentenced to life in prison, after all."
"If he goes as our representative, the academy's name will be dragged right alongside him in the papers!"
"Why worry? He's going to lose to Walker anyway."
Familiar words. I didn't even feel the urge to shout that my father wasn't that kind of man anymore. The truth wouldn't change no matter how much people gossiped. My heart, which had frayed at every cruel remark in the beginning, had grown thick, unyielding calluses.
"You're already convinced you're going to win?"
Walker's brow furrowed.
"What?"
"We haven't even crossed swords, and you're already certain I'll be eliminated."
Walker snorted disdainfully.
"Hmph. Bluffing, are we?"
"Yeah, that's right. It's a bluff. Because if I don't at least put on a brave face, the almighty Lord Walker is just so terrifying I might faint on the spot."
Walker blinked. It seemed to take him a second to parse the sarcasm. Belatedly, his face flushed crimson.
"You bastard... are you mocking me right now?"
"I just paid you a compliment. Why take it so badly?"
The crowd kept quiet out of deference to Walker, but muffled snorts of stifled laughter leaked out here and there. Walker shot a glare in that direction, and sharp gasps immediately swallowed the giggles. He snapped his gaze back to me.
"Han Yoosung! Do you think you'll walk away unscathed after pulling a stunt like this?"
"You already know I haven't been 'scathed' in a long time."
It was self-deprecating humor, but it wasn't wrong either. My school life was already in ruins. My former childhood friends had severed ties with me, and getting pointed at by strangers had become my daily routine. I harbored no lingering attachments to any of it. Completely devoted to swordsmanship and the Imperial Capital Festival, I had no time or energy to care about social standing. Still, I wasn't blind to how it looked from the outside. To anyone else, my academy life must have looked like an utter failure—so much so that it was a miracle I hadn't dropped out.
"Are you bragging about having nothing left to lose?"
"Just wanted to show that even an earthworm squirts when stepped on."
"Bwahaha! Calling yourself an earthworm? Well, at least you have some self-awareness." Sweeping his bangs back with one hand, he burst into laughter. "I know all about your pathetic circumstances. Honestly, there's no sport in beating a guy like you, which is why I generously offered you a chance to forfeit. But you're saying you won't take it?"
"That's right."
Walker stroked his chin, a sinister grin spreading across his face.
"Fighting like this is going to be dreadfully boring. If someone of my caliber must grace the stage, I ought to at least give you a reason to fight desperately for the win."
My ears perked up slightly.
"If you manage to beat me, I'll grant you a wish."
"A wish?"
Walker wrapped an arm around the waist of each girl beside him, pulling them close.
"You're a guy, so you probably want a girlfriend, right? Setting you up with someone shouldn't be too hard." He gestured with his eyes toward the girls flanking him. "Which one catches your eye?"
Both girls froze instantly.
"Senior, hold on!"
"You're joking, right?"
One of them looked at me with open disgust.
"No way! Absolutely not!"
Not to be outdone, the other shook her head violently.
"Me neither! Why would you push us onto someone like him?!"
"His father is the criminal behind that incident!"
"No matter how much you ask, Senior, I'd rather die!"
Walker relished their exaggerated revulsion, clearly amused.
"Calm down, calm down. It was a joke. A joke. There's no way I'd hand you two over to a guy like him."
"How can you joke about something like that? My heart dropped!"
"Seriously, I almost died of shock. I'd rather grow old and die alone than date a guy like that."
"There, there. Would I ever give my sweet darlings to trash like him?" After pacifying the flustered girls, Walker turned back to me. "These two are off-limits, but I'll find a girl decent enough to drive a guy like you wild."
He paused as if struck by a sudden inspiration.
"Oh, that's right. Wasn't there that girl you used to hang around with? Noel? I know someone with a similar vibe—want her instead? Her chest is way bigger, so you'll have plenty of fun."
"..."
"That ought to give you a reason to fight like your life depends on it, right?"
I had let him ramble to see where he was going with this, but all interest evaporated. I didn't have time to squander on romantic nonsense.
"Can it be a different wish?"
Walker stared blankly before bursting into laughter.
"Hahaha! You're actually planning to win?"
"I don't enter competitions planning to lose."
"Fine. As long as it's within my power, I'll grant you whatever you want."
"Really?"
"How many times do I have to say it?"
My gaze naturally drifted toward the top of his head. Sleek, glossy golden hair. Every time I looked at it, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of face he would make if it were completely shaved bald.
"A real man doesn't go back on his word, right?"
"Naturally."
Apparently done with the conversation, Walker gathered the two girls close and started past me. And right as our shoulders brushed, he dropped his voice to a low murmur.
"Just make sure you're prepared to leave the arena as a cripple, Han Yoosung."
A sudden curiosity struck me.
Once that head went completely bald, would those girls still stick around by his side?