Prologue: Couple Hell, Solo Heaven
Couple hell, solo heaven.
He had clung to that sacred truth for a full nine years now.
At last, Kyle understood. His life was simply hell, full stop.
Somewhere out there, the story’s real protagonists were no doubt busy preparing for their couple era. Meanwhile, he was here—busy every single day with iron.
At first, he had thought this place was decent enough. A reliable father. A gentle mother. A taciturn older brother. A sister who looked after him well. Only a baronial house, sure, but a solid enough backer all the same.
Then he found out the truth. All four of his family members—and every last soul in the territory—were an extreme battle race that would take on the Empire itself if you just put a rock in their hands.
And in peacetime, every one of them set down the sword and picked up a barbell instead.
“Kyle. You’ve got to do one more set.”
“Sister. You’ve been saying ‘just one more set’ this whole time.”
“This is really the last one. Kyle? One more set.”
If she had demanded it in a stern voice like their father, he might have managed. Instead, Kyle’s sister delivered that horrific phrase—one more set—in the warmest tone imaginable.
“I really can’t do it.”
“You can. Come on, unnie will help you.”
From above the bar she gripped it and cried, One more set! When it came to iron, this family made no compromises whatsoever. So Kyle gave up, clenched his teeth, and pressed the barbell up.
The storm of that single set finally passed.
“You did great! Kyle. See? You can do it.”
“I only managed because you helped me, Sister.”
“I didn’t do anything?”
“…?”
What kind of nonsense was that supposed to be?
“I just put my hands on the bar. You did all of it, Kyle.”
“….”
“So… one more set?”
Kyle shot up from the bench and fled without looking back.
But hell was still very much in progress.
“Where do you think you’re going without legs, Kyle.”
This time his brother caught him, and he had no choice but to finish lower body as well.
He thought that was the end of it—until he ran into his father mid-cardio.
“Let’s run together, Kyle.”
Even among gym rats, cardio was the most miserable hour of all. Kyle only made it back to his room after five full laps of the drill ground. Word was his father kept going for another fifteen after that.
This is unfair.
Yes. It was unfair. This went far beyond unfair.
At this very hour the protagonists would be busy getting ready to flit and flirt. And he—the one who had fallen into a romance fantasy—had been doing nothing but iron for nine straight years.
This couldn’t go on. He had to escape, no matter what.
So, without telling his family, he sent in an academy application.
And today was the day the result arrived.
Your application for admission has been declined.
Shit—why the hell?! Kyle clutched his head in both hands.
“Reject it. No exceptions. Reject it.”
At the minister’s words, the Education Ministry’s section chief tilted his head. Why on earth had something like this been escalated all the way to the minister?
“Don’t let him anywhere near the Academy. The moment he enrolls, we are at war with the Ministry of Finance. Understood?”
“Yes, Minister. Ah—but on what grounds should we reject him…?”
The Minister of Education hurled an inkwell on the spot.
“That’s what middle management is for—to figure that out! When the top makes a decision, the rest of you handle it yourselves!”
Under the minister’s booming roar, the section chief scrambled through a bow and fled. The moment the office door shut, the minister let out a long, ragged groan.
“Why is that insane battle-race family trying to come to the Academy again… Don’t come…. Please don’t come….”
On the desk lay a single admissions application.
Second Son of the John Nassen Baronial House
Kyle John Nassen
The minister prayed before it, over and over.
Please keep this mad battle-race bloodline nowhere near the Academy.
If the Academy got half-destroyed again this time, the Minister of Finance would absolutely have him by the throat.