A Test of Wills
Walking down the corridor, Noel spotted a familiar face approaching from the opposite direction.
Erika.
Walking beside her was Rowell, the Swordsmanship Club president. The two were deep in casual conversation, and just then Erika happened to turn her head this way.
Their eyes met. There was no way Noel could duck down a side hallway and pretend she hadn't seen her.
The closeness Noel and Erika once shared was no longer what it used to be. To put it precisely, the bond among all four of them had always centered on Han Yuseong.
But then that ugly incident happened. Naturally, things grew awkward between them. The private get-togethers stopped, and their relationships cooled with startling speed.
It was Noel who offered a friendly greeting first.
"Hey, Erika."
"Oh — Noel."
"You've been looking great lately. You've got real color in your face."
"Thanks. And how about you?"
"Me? Same old, same old."
Noel also tossed a light greeting at Rowell, who was standing at Erika's side.
"Hi, Rowell."
"Noel, right? I'm impressed you remembered my name."
"The most famous student in the academy remembering my name? That's an honor."
"Most famous, huh. A title that embarrassing doesn't suit me at all."
"Oh, don't be modest. How could anyone not know? The number one boy the girls at this academy want to date — that's you, Rowell Belmont."
At that, Rowell shot her a practiced, sheepish smile and turned his gaze toward Erika. Caught by his eyes so suddenly, Erika flushed and colored her cheeks red.
They're putting on quite the show.
Holding that thought, Noel addressed the two of them.
"You must both be swamped with the Imperial Selection. Erika, your final match is coming up soon, right?"
"You remembered?"
"Of course I did. We're talking about you and me, Erika. I'm always rooting for you. If anyone can make the representative team, it's you."
"Thank you."
Noel shifted her gaze smoothly to Rowell.
"I'll be cheering for you too, Rowell. Good luck!"
In that instant, a flicker of something microscopic passed through Erika's eyes.
It wasn't jealousy over Noel's friendliness toward Rowell. It was, perhaps, a reaction to someone who wasn't standing there at all.
"I hope you both get good results."
With a bright smile, Noel waved to the pair and turned away. And the moment her back was to them, the smile vanished from her face as if it had never existed.
Even pretending to know people is exhausting.
She set off in the opposite direction.
Rowell was a celebrity within the academy. President of the Swordsmanship Club, handsome, and skilled on top of it all. Lately he could often be seen at Erika's side, and anyone could tell the two of them were dating.
And that was no idle observation — they really did make a striking pair. Practically a match made in heaven.
So fine, Rowell — you can have Erika. I couldn't care less. But don't you dare touch Yuseong. He's mine.
If it came to that, wouldn't everyone get the ending they wanted?
Then something about Erika's hair drifted into Noel's mind.
Her long red hair had, at some point, been chopped clean to a short bob that barely reached her jaw. Thinking of it stirred up an old memory.
Back when the four of them still spent every single day together — the day Erika showed up with a new hairstyle after something Yuseong had said the night before.
He'd praised her for it.
"Erika, a ponytail really suits you."
"Don't be flattered — a compliment from you doesn't make me happy at all!"
Erika had never been good at being honest. That much was obvious, because from that day on her hair was fixed in a ponytail permanently. If she truly hadn't been pleased, she would never have done it.
At the time, Noel had asked her playfully, without thinking much of it.
"Then should I try a ponytail too?"
And Erika's expression had turned dead serious in an instant.
"Why you?"
The sharp glare on that utterly humorless face — Noel still couldn't forget it.
She'd been caught off guard by the reaction back then. Pushing the point any further felt like it would start a fight, so Noel had backed off.
But then Erika had gone and cut her hair first.
Well, now our styles don't clash anymore.
So it shouldn't matter — right?
That evening, Noel stood in front of her mirror and gathered her blue hair up, tying it into a single tail. She turned her head left and right, checking it from every angle.
The soft way it swayed with her movements — it wasn't bad at all. Actually, it suited her even better than she'd expected.
Then her eyes fell on her phone.
Maybe I should snap a picture and send it to Yuseong.
She picked the phone up and had the camera app open before her hand stopped mid-motion.
No. That's not it.
Showing him in person was far better than spoiling it with a photo. If he saw her suddenly transformed tomorrow, wouldn't that surprise him even more?
And then, the next day.
Noel, ready a little earlier than usual, headed to the academy with her hair tied in a ponytail. Naturally, there was exactly one person she most wanted to show it to.
But on her way to the classroom, the person she ran into first wasn't Yuseong.
"……"
It was Erika.
The moment Erika laid eyes on Noel, she froze. To be precise, the instant she noticed the tied-up hair, her steps ground to a halt.
Noel deliberately tilted her head as if she had no idea what was going on.
"Erika? What's wrong?"
"Your hair…… you changed it?"
"Yeah. I figured it was time for a new look."
Noel brushed the ponytail lightly with her hand.
"What do you think?"
"……If you're asking me, your old style suited you better."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. Wearing it down is just better."
It was the kind of thing where even a hollow compliment would have been expected — yet Erika's tone was remarkably firm. Noel didn't let it touch her. She smiled and accepted it as if it were a perfectly reasonable opinion.
"That's okay. I like it."
As she said it, Noel's gaze slid to Erika's red bob.
"Come to think of it, I've never properly said it before, have I."
"Said what?"
"That short hair suits you. It's much better than how you looked before."
In that instant, Erika's red eyes wavered. Her lips pressed together, faintly biting down, as if she'd started to say something and stopped herself.
Noel pretended to notice none of it.
"It's a compliment. Why, what's the matter? Did I say something wrong? Did it upset you?"
"No — no. Thanks."
The intonation carried not a single trace of gratitude. But Noel wasn't so thin-skinned that she'd pick apart every little detail like that.
"I'll get going. See you."
Rowell was pacing like a caged animal.
And the cause of it all was Han Yuseong.
At first, he'd dismissed it as a one-off fluke. Walker had spent his recent days chasing after girls instead of training with the sword. For all his title as the club's vice president, he was a rusted blade who'd let his practice slide.
Beating a slouch like that and swaggering around about it — Rowell had found it laughable.
He doesn't even know his place. He had the gall to march into the Swordsmanship Club and throw a tantrum. The insolent little—
Rowell had planned to break him decisively and humiliate him for good.
Four students would advance to the final selection. If the bracket played out as expected, the road would eventually lead to him facing Han Yuseong directly. That was when he intended to crush him so utterly that the boy would never dare show his face again. Living out the rest of his days at the academy like a mouse, invisible as he used to be — that suited the boy just fine.
But even after that, the reports kept coming: the boy won his matches again. Rowell chalked it up to a lucky draw.
Then he attended the last match in person, and he understood.
……I can't beat him.
What kind of training could he possibly have gone through in that short a time, to change that much? Rowell could not picture himself winning, no matter how he tried.
If it were merely a single step above him, the helplessness wouldn't have cut this deep. Anything could be flipped on the day — conditioning, tactics, momentum.
But Han Yuseong was not that kind of opponent.
He was on a different plane entirely. Rowell didn't want to admit it, but the truth was overwhelming.
Plenty of students at the academy still insisted Rowell would win. He was the club president, after all. He'd been called the academy's finest swordsman for years.
Yet every time he heard those words, irritation boiled up inside him instead.
Idiots who know nothing.
Anyone who truly understood the sword could never say such a thing so carelessly. The swordsmanship instructors' reactions made that plain enough. They were the ones who knew better than anyone how long and how desperately Rowell had chased the Imperial Selection.
The same instructors who used to insist he had to reach the main tournament had lately taken to saying other things instead. The Imperial Selection wasn't everything. There would be more chances ahead.
But not once — not a single time — did they speak the word "defeat." And that made it all the clearer.
They knew. They knew he was going to lose to Han Yuseong.
If I win just this one match, I make the representative team.
He had come this far. Three whole years spent running toward nothing else.
And with one match left to that goal — that bastard shows up and wrecks everything!
He would lose. That much was certain.
With everyone's expectations and trust riding on his shoulders, in front of the hundreds of students watching — the president of the Swordsmanship Club would be defeated.
It went without saying that the reputation and image he'd spent years building would collapse in a single moment.
Han Yuseong wasn't even a member of the club. The boy had never shown the slightest interest in the Swordsmanship Club to begin with. Why, of all times, did he have to appear now?
Only a few months left until graduation — why now of all times?!
All he needed was one last Imperial Selection run, one final laurel to crown his career. And then the boy had appeared — as if he'd come specifically to destroy it.
When the weekend came, Rowell slipped out of the dormitory and returned to his family's home in the Imperial Capital. He simply could not bear to stay at the academy.
Someone was bound to stop him and chat the moment he set foot in a corridor.
"The club president will obviously win!"
"No matter how well Han Yuseong does, he can't be stronger than our president, right?"
You stupid idiots!
To spout nonsense like that without having the faintest idea how he felt — he wanted to grab them by the collar and beat them bloody.
Worse still was the prospect of running into Han Yuseong. People would notice, whisper, watch the two of them for drama. He could feel it coming.
And so, even after reaching his family home, Rowell shut himself in his room for the entire day.
As it happened, his older sister was home that weekend too.
Lobelia Belmont. Two years his senior, currently a second-year at the 1st Imperial High Academy — and a genius.
Knock, knock.
A light tap on the door, and it eased open a crack.
"Rowell? Your big sister's home and you won't even come see me?"
Lobelia peeked her head in. Rowell's face crumpled in an instant.
"Don't barge into my room whenever you feel like it!"
Lobelia blinked. But she showed not a trace of offense — just smiled, a little sheepishly, and pulled the door shut.
"Sorry. Hehe."
Click.
The moment the door clicked shut, Rowell clenched his teeth.
"What the hell is that woman always grinning like that for."