The School Representative Selection Tournament, Part 2
That afternoon.
Walker was holding court, loudly running his mouth as if the following day's match were already decided in his favor.
"That Han Yoosung bastard actually had the nerve to ask if he could wish for something other than a girl. He honestly thinks he stands a chance of beating me."
Laughter immediately erupted from his entourage.
The circle surrounding Walker was always made up of the same familiar faces.
"He said that to you, Senior?"
"He's lost his mind."
"Someone like that won't come to his senses until he gets beaten black and blue."
Walker smirked, seizing the moment.
"I don't intend to go easy on him. I'm going to smash him to pieces right in front of the entire academy—break him so badly he won't ever want to show his face here again."
"My goodness, how terrifying."
"If that's what's coming, he should have listened to you and just forfeited. What a foolish boy."
"Why couldn't he just keep his head down until graduation? I have no idea why he's acting out now of all times."
The girls clung close to Walker's side, their voices laced with coy flattery.
"Senior, I'll be cheering for you tomorrow."
"Please give us a dazzling victory!"
"Of course. With all of you cheering for me, how could I possibly lose? I'll ride this momentum all the way to the main tournament at the Imperial Capital Festival!"
A short distance away, Erika heard every word clearly as she swung her sword.
Han Yoosung.
Lowering her blade, Erika found her mind drifting back to the conversation they had shared a few days prior.
"Do you hold a grudge against me?"
"Not really."
His answer had not sounded like a lie. She wondered if he had finally come to understand her situation, at least to some degree.
After all, nothing good comes from keeping things awkward between us forever.
Yet there was still one thing she could not fathom in the slightest.
Why had he decided to enter the Imperial Capital Festival selection tournament?
After hearing the news, she had personally offered him a spot in the Swordsmanship Club, but Yoosung had turned her down flat. He insisted on training by himself.
It was utterly frustrating.
Swordsmanship was not something that improved simply by swinging a blade blindly thousands of times. Without proper instruction, repeating flawed forms would only cement terrible habits into one's muscle memory. In the end, it was worse than doing nothing at all.
Stubborn fool.
Erika's brow furrowed.
To make matters worse, his opponent was Walker. Walker might have been shallow and vain, but he was not an opponent anyone could defeat on mere luck. Above all, his skills placed him among the very elite of the Swordsmanship Club.
The brutal promises Walker had just made did not sound like empty boasts either. He was precisely the kind of person who would relish battering Yoosung to a pulp before a roaring crowd.
What if he gets critically injured?
He did not spare a single thought for how much others were worrying about him. Watching him barrel forward on pure obstinacy only stoked her irritation.
Right then, a pleasant voice called out from nearby.
"Why such a grim expression?"
Erika lifted her head to find a young man standing before her with an easy, gentle smile. It was Rowell, the current president of the Swordsmanship Club.
"Rowell..."
The tight tension that had hardened Erika's features melted away naturally at the sight of him.
"Is something wrong? You've looked troubled for a while now."
"...It's nothing."
"Really? If anything is weighing on your mind, you can always tell me. We're close enough for that, aren't we?"
"Thank you."
A faint blush brushed across Erika's cheeks.
Unlike Walker, Rowell never showed off to win over girls. He had exceptional talent, an upright character, and a handsome face to match. Within the Swordsmanship Club, the girls' romantic ideals were largely divided between Walker and Rowell.
Because Erika was close to Rowell, she was often on the receiving end of envious glares from her peers. Not that she particularly minded the attention.
Rowell gazed quietly at her for a moment.
"What is it...? Do I have something on my face?"
"No, it's not that."
"Then what?"
"I just think it every time I look at you. Short hair really does suit you best."
"What are you saying in a place like this?!"
Startled, Erika frantically glanced around to see if anyone had overheard. Finding her flustered reaction endearing, Rowell chuckled softly.
"I'm only saying it looks great because it truly does."
"Honestly, Rowell... you're impossible."
"It would be wonderful if we could both make it as school representatives together, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah."
Erika nodded, a soft smile gracing her lips.
I was on my way out of the convenience store after picking up boxed meals for Master. They happened to be running a promotion where each lunchbox came with a complimentary canned drink. Buying my usual four meant I walked out with four free cans in hand.
The weather had been growing noticeably warmer lately. With ice-cold drinks dropped into my lap for free, it would have been a crime not to crack one open immediately.
Pssh.
I popped the tab and took a swallow, only to spot Erika standing right by the entrance. We crossed paths like this every now and then, but that was usually the extent of it. I fully intended to walk past her pretending not to notice, just as we always did, but she unexpectedly spoke first.
"I need to talk to you."
We had already spoken at the registration desk a few days ago, and I thought everything had been settled back then. What kind of whim had seized her now?
"Another talk? About what?"
"Somewhere quiet."
"Just say it here."
At my flat reply, Erika shot me a sharp glare. Without a word, she turned on her heel and vanished around the corner toward the back of the convenience store.
"What is her problem?"
Shrugging, I trailed after her. The alley behind the store was crowded with recycling bins and mounds of trash bags, so almost nobody ever walked through. It was just the two of us.
As I tipped my head back and gulped down the soda, Erika eyed me with clear annoyance.
"Want one?"
I still had three cans left. Handing one over wouldn't hurt.
"You don't have a single serious bone in your body, do you?"
"Serious...?"
Where was this coming from? If she didn't want a drink, all she had to do was say no. Why did she have to turn it into a character critique?
"I heard you made a wager with Walker."
"Word travels fast."
Then again, Walker was the type to run his mouth without any prompting. It was all too easy to picture him preening and boasting to everyone in the Swordsmanship Club. Since Erika belonged to the same club, she was bound to hear about it. But what did any of that have to do with her?
Before I could fathom her angle, Erika cut straight to the point.
"Forfeit."
"Forfeit...?"
"If you back out right now, this can still blow over quietly."
Having people demand that I forfeit both morning and evening was beginning to leave a bizarre taste in my mouth.
"...Why should I?"
"Why do you think?! Do you have any idea what Walker has been saying out there?" Erika's voice climbed an octave. "He doesn't just want a win. He's bragging to everyone that he's going to utterly dismantle you in front of the whole academy!"
"Sounds like him."
In fact, imagining him acting civilized was the harder part. With girls squealing and feeding his ego from all sides, he must have been over the moon.
"This isn't the time to act so carefree!" Erika raised her voice, visibly exasperated. "Do you want to end up a battered wreck?! Do you want to be thoroughly humiliated before the entire school?"
"Why would I want that?"
"Then swallow your stubborn pride and withdraw! You can't beat Walker."
The sheer finality in her tone rubbed me the wrong way. Who made her Walker's official spokesperson?
I lowered the can from my lips.
"An opponent I can't beat?"
"That's right. Walker is a starting regular in the Swordsmanship Club. His skill, his technique, his experience—everything about him is leagues above you. He isn't someone you can handle."
"You've been getting on my nerves for a while now. What do you even know about me today to talk down to me like that?"
"What?"
"The Han Yoosung you know is the guy from last autumn."
"And what difference does that make?"
She glared at me as if daring me to make an excuse. If that was how she wanted to play it, I saw no reason to hold back.
"More than half a year has passed since then. Do you have any clue where I've been, what I've done, how many times I've swung my sword, or what level I'm at right now?"
"Is that really the best you've got? You practiced by yourself, didn't you? Let me be blunt with you. It was almost certainly a complete waste of time."
To belittle someone else's blood and sweat so casually... A dozen retorts surged to my tongue, but wasting my breath on a pointless argument with her wasn't worth the effort.
"Whether it was a waste of time or not, stay out of my business. That's me asking as politely as I can."
"Han Yoosung!"
"Just keep ignoring me and live your own life, exactly like you've been doing."
"I'm saying this because I'm worried about you...!"
Hearing that forced a dry scoff from my throat. Erika glared back, her pride clearly bruised by my amusement.
"What's so funny? Do you think I'm joking around?"
"No, it's just completely baffling. Why would you start worrying about me now of all times? What's gotten into you? It's not like you at all."
The Erika I knew looked out for her own skin, keeping her distance to avoid getting dragged down with me. To be clear, I wasn't angry. I was simply dumbfounded.
"I'm not the Han Yoosung you used to know anymore. So stop judging me by your outdated standards. It's not like our relationship warrants it anyway."
I tossed the empty can toward the recycling bin.
Clatter.
Before turning to leave, I left her with one final remark.
"And you're not the Erika I used to know either."
In an instant, her face violently drained of color. Out of everything I had said, that single sentence seemed to strike the deepest nerve.
"...Not the Erika you used to know? What is that supposed to mean?!" Erika hurried after my retreating back. "What about me has changed?!"
"I don't know."
"Stop giving me these vague brush-offs! Explain it in plain words!"
"There's nothing to explain. I don't know what kind of person you are anymore. That's the only way I can put it."
"Han Yoosung...!"
Her desperate call echoed behind me, but I didn't turn back. Dredging up stale memories only left a bitter taste on my tongue. I needed to clear my head. The only thing that mattered right now was tomorrow's match.
The following day.
The intra-academy selection tournament got underway.
A far larger crowd of students had packed into the arena than I had anticipated. Walker being a frontrunner for the school representative squad was certainly a major draw, but the fact that his opening opponent was me had undeniably fueled their curiosity.
Long before the match began, the chatter echoing through the spectator stands ran along the exact same lines.
"How many minutes do you think Walker will take to finish him?"
"Minutes? Please. One strike and it's over."
"If he runs for his life around the ring, maybe he can drag it out to thirty seconds?"
The moment I stepped into view, someone in the crowd shouted at the top of their lungs.
"It's not too late! Just forfeit!"
"Is this really the time for foolish pride? He's completely out of your league!"
Walking onto the sand to a chorus of jeers was hardly a pleasant experience.
From the opposite side of the ring, Walker sauntered forward with exaggerated poise, greeted by enthusiastic shrieks from his female fan club. He gave his head a languid flick, smoothing his golden locks into place.
"Han Yoosung. I'll at least commend you for not running away."
"If you have time to worry about me, you'd better start worrying about your hair."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I figured out what I want for my wish."
"You honestly think you're going to win? Fine by me. Struggle with everything you've got. Breaking you will be all the sweeter."
The referee glanced between the two of us.
"Ready."
I raised my practice sword.
Walker settled into his stance across from me.
"Begin!"
Walker kicked off the ground with explosive force.
He was fast.
At least, the me from half a year ago would have thought so.
Not today.
From the exact angle of his footing to the subtle shift of his shoulders, his every intention was laid bare before my eyes in razor-sharp clarity. Compared to crossing blades every single night against my monster of a master, facing this was almost anticlimactic.
This guy...
I watched the incoming trajectory of his blade.
He's literally nothing but openings.
I flicked my sword forward with a casual flick of the wrist. There was no need to put anywhere near full strength behind it.
CLANG!
A single clash settled everything.
The blade was violently torn from Walker's grip, spinning high into the open air.
"Huh...?"
His eyes blew wide. By the time that sound escaped his throat, I had already stepped deep into his guard, the tip of my blade resting a breath away from his Adam's apple.
Done.
Had ten seconds even passed?
The arena, roaring with noise only moments before, plummeted into a stunned, breathless silence. Not a single person spoke. Even the referee seemed to have forgotten his duty, staring at the two of us with a vacant expression.
"Aren't you going to call it?"
Shaken out of his stupor by my question, the referee finally shouted.
"W-Winner... Han Yoosung!"
Even with the official declaration hanging in the air, the dead silence dragged on for several seconds more. Every single spectator had been so thoroughly convinced of the opposite outcome that their minds couldn't bridge the gap.
As for Walker himself, the shock had drained every drop of color from his face. Frozen stiff in the exact posture from when his weapon was knocked away, he stared at me blankly, utterly incapable of processing his own defeat.
Whether he could accept it or not was none of my concern. I had a wager to collect. Putting on an exaggerated show of sudden remembrance, I projected my voice across the entire stadium.
"Oh, that's right!"
I felt hundreds of gazes instantly snap onto me as I laid on the theatrical innocence.
"We had a bet, didn't we? If I won, you promised you'd grant me any wish I wanted."
Walker's face seized up in pure horror.
A wave of frantic muttering rippled through the stands.
"Wait, I heard about that!"
"Didn't Walker boast about a wager in the hallway yesterday?!"
Because he had paraded the bet around to anyone with ears, I didn't even need to explain the premise.
"I'm truly grateful to you, Walker. Knowing you'd grant me a wish if I won gave me all the motivation I needed to push myself even harder."
I turned toward the packed spectator stands, throwing my arms out wide.
"So, everyone! I dedicate the glory of today's victory entirely to Walker!"
"Pfft...!"
A muffled snort broke out from the upper rows, quickly followed by scattered giggles that cascaded through the crowd like wildfire. Within seconds, suppressed chuckles and snickers echoed from every corner of the arena.
The students here hadn't suddenly become my fans. But they weren't fiercely loyal to Walker either. When it came down to it, spectators simply gravitated toward whatever provided the best entertainment.
Walker's pale cheeks flushed a violent, humiliating crimson.
"Han Yoosung..."
Every boastful word he had spread to inflate his own ego was now boomeranging straight back into his face.
"And since everyone here already knows about our little wager, I might as well announce my wish right here and now."
I fixed my gaze squarely upon his pride and joy—his pristine golden hair. It was meticulously parted and styled, clearly the product of immense daily effort.
"When you come to school tomorrow, have every single strand shaved clean off."
"...What?"
An earthquake of sheer panic tore through Walker's eyes.
"Didn't you hear me? Shave your whole head. A complete buzzcut. A shiny, polished bald head. I'll be waiting at the gates with a ruler to measure it, so don't disappoint me."
Laughter exploded from the bleachers, completely uncontrolled this time.
"BWAHAHAHA!"
"Is he insane?!"
"Why on earth would you waste a wish on that?!"
"If it were me, I would've demanded he set me up with a girl!"
"Wait, is Walker actually going to have to shave his head?!"
That night.
Returning to her dormitory room, Noel collapsed onto her bed in the dark. Staring at the glowing screen of her phone, she tapped out a message.
She pressed send.
In truth, Noel already knew what had transpired between Yoosung and Walker the previous day. She had heard that the moment Walker brought her name into the conversation, Yoosung had fallen utterly silent, radiating an aura so cold it bordered on lethal.
From what she had gathered, hadn't Walker offered to introduce him to a girl who looked just like her, only with a bigger chest?
He's just like he was when we were kids. He hasn't changed one bit.
Back then, whenever something concerned the people he cared about, he would throw himself into danger without a second thought for his own safety.
The true reason he had entered the Imperial Capital Festival...
While the rest of the academy traded wild theories and gossip, Noel felt as though she alone understood his real motive.
You did all of this just to make me look at you again.
If that had truly been his intention, she had fallen for it completely.
In a sense, it felt like a secret proposal that only the two of them could ever understand.