The Mind Games Begin
The mind games begin.
“Alright, once more. Feel like you’re stomping the ground hard and driving through it. Don’t arch your lower back too much.”
When the person spotting your lifts suddenly steps away, what’s the saddest part? Cleaning up the plates yourself? Losing the peer pressure?
Both are true. Whether you’re racking weights alone or training alone, something always feels missing.
And if you had to add one more? It’s probably not having a spotter for bench press.
“Don’t overdo it, but don’t give up easily either, Nell. You can do this.”
Kyle kept his hands ready to snatch the bar at any second, just in case.
This was the final set; she had to be running on fumes. The weight on the bar was nothing to sneeze at either—one slip and she could get badly hurt.
Even back in John Nassen, where people hated anyone meddling with their training more than death itself, bench press was the one exercise they always did in pairs. They knew exactly how precious a well-built body was, and they protected it.
“Hooo…”
Nell steadied her breathing, gripped the bar, and pressed it upward.
Compared to the first set, her arms were trembling more—enough to make Kyle tense. But she locked her body and mind back into place and, with nearly perfect form once again, ground out every last rep before racking the bar.
“Ughah! I—I did it!!”
“Nice. Looks like you haven’t taken a single day off this past month. You’ve been training exactly the way I taught you.”
“How could I rest? There’s something I absolutely have to achieve.”
Kyle half-expected her to shout something like, How could I rest when I’ve paid this much money?! But no—Nell was clearly investing far more in her dream than in her wallet.
With that kind of mindset, she would become a fine knight soon enough. Whether she would actually distinguish herself and earn glory was another matter entirely, but the outlook was hopeful all the same.
“And I heard the news! You were incredible out west! You defeated the Coalition’s Three Heroes!!”
“Yeah. He was a real opponent. The other two were garbage, but that guy Mathieu… he was a proper knight. I’d honestly like to face him again someday.”
“That’s amazing—no, that’s incredible! I… I will become strong like you too, Kyle!”
Kyle almost blurted out, Don’t even try.
Nell’s progress was excellent. Her attitude and effort were top-tier. But she was still a long way from matching him. A very, very long way.
It wasn’t arrogance or overconfidence. It was simple, objective fact. He was already pushing her hard, and even this regimen was what John Nassen kids in their early-to-mid teens went through. If he trained her the real John Nassen way, she would get seriously injured—guaranteed.
“Take a short break, then we move on.”
“Yes, sir!”
She had every right to look exhausted, every right to complain. Instead she was only more fired up, and that made Kyle genuinely happy. When a client followed instructions this well and showed real drive, the person guiding them enjoyed it just as much.
Tisha’s keeping up nicely. Even Ian and Leto are doing better than I expected. The real problem is still the Saintess… Ugh, I have no idea what to do about her.
Thinking of Tisha and the Saintess naturally pulled yesterday’s events into his mind.
“Kyle? What are you doing here?”
“Brother Kyle?”
“You’re here? Then let’s go already.”
Three of the women looked startled by Kyle’s sudden appearance; the fourth was already dragging him toward the exit. Yulika’s grip on his arm was formidable—her absolute determination to leave this place immediately came through loud and clear.
“Hold on, just a second, Your Highness. We should at least say hello first.”
“I’ve already been waiting almost three hours. You know that, right?”
“You waited over three hours, so you can wait three more minutes, can’t you?”
For someone who had kept a person waiting that long, he sounded remarkably bold. A normal person might have snapped, “What the hell are you talking about?!” Fortunately, he was dealing with Yulika.
“Hmm. Fair point. I’ll wait three more minutes.”
Elga and Tisha both wore expressions that said, She actually bought that?
Meanwhile Kyle eyed the empty ice-cream dishes on the table.
“…You mustn’t overdo it, Saintess. We made a promise, remember? Once every two days.”
“O-once every two days! Yes, of course! I’m keeping it perfectly! Absolutely, Brother Kyle!”
Unfortunately for her, Kyle had already heard the rumor that the Saintess had visited the café yesterday as well. A true trainer always knew when a client was sneaking around. Still, she never cut corners during actual training, so he would let it slide for now. Next time he would simply say, in a mild tone, that she really shouldn’t.
“I didn’t expect to find you here, Lady Elga.”
“Ahem! I simply felt like having tea time at a café today. That is to say…”
“That’s great.”
“Pardon?”
“Honestly, I’ve always thought it was a bit silly to force a separate tea time inside the Academy when there are perfectly good cafés right here. Mutual benefit, right? Looking out for the local businesses—I really admire that.”
Elga’s cheeks colored faintly at the unexpected praise. What Kyle had actually meant was, Can we please just go to a café instead of that damn tea time? Between boiling water, preparing the leaves, and steeping the tea, it eats up half the afternoon.
If she gets hooked and suggests meeting at the café from now on, I’ll be eternally grateful, Lady Elga. Taking more than thirty minutes to prepare a single cup of tea is way past the line.
And was the tea she prepared even that special? To Kyle’s palate it tasted pretty much the same as the café’s. All it did was steal training time—something he would rather avoid.
“Oh, right. I heard your grades came out, Tisha. Congrats. First place, yeah?”
True to her “highly intelligent” setting, Tisha had crushed every subject. It looked certain she would eventually achieve greatness in shamanism.
“It’s nothing. And we still don’t know for sure. Finals are left, and once elective scores are factored in…”
She had annihilated some of the hardest courses in the Academy and was still being humble. Kyle couldn’t help wondering whether the modesty was aimed more at Elga sitting right beside her.
“Time’s up. Three minutes. I really can’t wait any longer. Sparring. Now.”
“Urgh.”
It wasn’t real sparring—neither of them could go all-out. Just a quick exchange of blows: one attack each, and done. There simply wasn’t any open space nearby where they could properly wreck the scenery. Kyle found the limited scrap frustrating, and Yulika—who lived more like a John Nassen than most actual John Nassens—found it just as frustrating. Yet she still kept insisting on these half-measures.
“Yes, yes. Let’s go, Your Highness.”
He would play along for a bit and then send her back to the palace. Block one strike, land a solid John-Nassen-style punch to the solar plexus, and that should do it.
“Wait a moment!”
Just as he was about to leave the three women to their tea time, Elga suddenly stopped both Kyle and Yulika.
“Um, Your Highness? About that spar… m-may we… watch?”
“Watch?”
“Yes. That is…”
“No. Absolutely not. Go back.”
Being interrupted and becoming a spectacle were two of the things warriors hated most. Yulika, it seemed, was no different. Even the heir of a grand duchy couldn’t push further after a princess’s flat refusal. Elga quietly sat back down—only for Tisha to step forward.
“Excuse me! I mean… both Her Highness and Kyle are incredible people, aren’t they? Watching a spar between two such masters… I’d love to see it just once! I want to broaden my limited horizons!”
“…?”
Kyle couldn’t help letting out a silent sigh. Anyone listening might think Elga and Tisha dreamed of becoming knights like Nell. One was focused on shamanism, the other on inheriting a grand duchy—what “horizons” were they talking about?
They were clearly buttering Yulika up to get what they wanted. And Yulika was not the type to fall for that sort of—
“Really? Well, can’t be helped then. I’ll let you watch this once.”
“….”
She fell for it? Our princess is surprisingly easy in the weirdest ways.
Kyle shook his head as Yulika strode off with complete confidence, declaring that opportunities like this didn’t come often so they should watch carefully.
“Brother Kyle.”
A soft call made him turn. The Saintess wore her usual gentle expression, yet something resolute burned beneath it.
“I’ll protect you.”
“Excuse me?”
“If Her Highness ever puts you in a difficult position… I’ll stop her. I promise.”
The Saintess herself offering to protect him should have been the happiest news in the world. Instead, Kyle sensed something off. Elga, who never took the lead; Tisha, who usually waved off sparring because of Ian; and now the Saintess radiating a completely different energy than her usual warmth…
Come to think of it, Yulika might not have been swayed by flattery at all—she could simply be pretending to do them a favor.
He had seen this exact picture before. Many, many times. And every single time, the same comment had left his fingers:
“Kyle? Kyle?”
“…Ah, sorry, Nell. Let’s get started right away.”
He had wasted a full two minutes lost in yesterday’s memories. Two whole minutes! He could have done planks or squats in that time!
“I’m really sorry. I stole two minutes from you.”
“Not at all! You looked deep in thought, so I hesitated to speak! Let’s begin immediately! I’m ready!”
Nell declared it with blazing determination once more. At times like this she truly seemed better than most men.
“I’ll work hard and become just like you, Kyle!”
…That last line bothered him a great deal.
Wait. You’re not catching feelings too, are you, Nell? Keep that pure admiration exactly as it is. I’m already screwed enough as it is.
Kyle gave her a wary glance, then exhaled in relief. The way she looked at him was pure hero-worship—exactly like a gym newbie staring up at the veteran gym bro they idolized.
“I’ll become a splendid knight like you and absolutely succeed…”
“Nell. I’m not a knight.”
“Ah—yes! Understood!!”