My Father Who Hates Me -1-
The academy training ground during lunchtime. Students who had finished class were heading to the cafeteria, chatting about what had happened in today's lessons.
"The material's so tough."
"The professor just spouts bullshit every time."
"He's expecting way too much from us students."
The students grumbled as they walked. Amid them, a group of girls smiled brightly, lost in girlish chatter.
"Did you see Senior Mikhail today? He was so cool, right?"
"I know! In that spar with the professor, it was a total deadlock. And that moment when he let out a deep sigh and wiped his sweat... so sexy. I spaced out staring and got scolded by the prof."
"You were being way too obvious."
"But I filled my Mikhail quota today!"
"Puhaha!"
"Mikhail quota"—it was slang unique to the girls, a way to cleanse their weary eyes from the burly sword department guys by gazing at the handsome Mikhail.
"Sigh..."
They should be studying instead of...
Hanna let out a long sigh as she watched the girls. She didn't fit in with the group. Passing them by, she headed straight for the training ground. She wanted to swing her sword more, even if it meant skipping meals. Hanna was obsessed with practice—she yearned to grow her swordsmanship beyond its current level and hated wasting time on anything meaningless.
I need to make the butler proud...
Her goals had shifted in a strange direction. Hanna wasn't very sociable. She'd always prioritized swordsmanship over friendships, even before meeting Ricardo. Plus, awakening aura at the youngest age possible had earned her resentment from her classmates. It was a common story—people envying those who shone. Hanna paid it no mind. Instead, she'd run into a different problem.
I'm going crazy. He keeps popping into my head...!
Lately, her mind was filled with the red-haired butler. Whether swinging her sword or listening in class, she couldn't focus because thoughts of the butler she'd met recently kept intruding.
"Why do you think you can't beat Mikhail?"
"You can do it, Hanna."
His firm belief in her, the way he'd looked at her with such conviction—it kept replaying in her head.
"Kyaa!"
"Ahh~ I wanna see Senior Mikhail again."
The girls were buzzing with excitement. News of Mikhail awakening his aura and rescuing them from the dungeon had them all hyped up. Watching them, Hanna sighed deeply.
"Was I ever like that...?"
As someone who'd once liked Mikhail, she didn't take kindly to their behavior. She hadn't swooned with a racing heart at the sight of him or made a fuss about treasuring a sweat-soaked towel forever like those girls, but she'd watched over him from nearby all the same. Not out of lingering attachment, but admiration. Still, she felt no different from them in the end.
Ugh...
Hanna shuddered, goosebumps rising at the memory of her past self.
"Guess I'll just practice."
Nothing cleared stray thoughts like swinging her sword. Hanna gripped her blade silently and began her swings in the now-empty training ground.
What would the butler say if he saw me?
"Aren't you eating? You'll ruin your health... This is all to keep you alive, isn't it? Hurry up and eat. If you don't, I'll tell the young lady."
Yeah, something like that.
Hanna smiled faintly, then shook her head vigorously as a realization hit.
Am I crazy? He's in my head again...!
She found the butler, who kept intruding uninvited into her thoughts, utterly infuriating. Gripping her sword, Hanna sank into contemplation.
It's not... love, right?
It didn't feel quite like love. He was the one who'd freed her from her cage. She couldn't call her desire to repay that debt with her body "love." He'd helped her awaken her aura and was the first to stand up to her father, the empire's sole knight commander.
"Benefactor" fits better.
A doting father who favored her siblings. A brother who ignored her. A sister who treated her as if she didn't exist. He'd pulled her from that suffocating cage with no escape—not Mikhail, not her professors, but a butler she'd barely known.
That's why it hit her so hard. It felt different from love—raw and distinct.
Love... That was an emotion that got in the way of swordsmanship. Books described it as trembling at the sight of someone, a ticklish heart, an urge to see them constantly and stay by their side. It was foreign to Hanna. Sure, she wanted to see him every day, but that was to repay her debt. She wanted to stick by his side forever, but even that seemed like mere gratitude for his immense favor.
With zero dating experience, love was too complex for her. Her friends enjoyed pink-tinted academy life with fiancés or boyfriends, but she'd devoted herself solely to the sword. She wasn't the type to approach people warmly anyway. Blunt and preferring sword swings over play, Hanna had never cared much for romance.
Lost in meaningless thoughts, standing still in the training ground—
"...Hanna."
A familiar face appeared before her. Silver hair. The academy's most popular guy stood there, wooden training sword in hand.
Startled by the unexpected arrival, Hanna blurted, "Senior Mikhail."
Mikhail blocked her path, sword at the ready. He lifted his blade lightly and bowed his head politely.
"Care for a spar?"
A duel with Mikhail. In the past, she'd have trembled with joy—"M-Me? Really?!" But now, it wasn't entirely welcome. Aside from the butler, he'd been the only one to acknowledge her victories, but after seeing her stand up to the seniors at the student council meeting... She didn't regret her actions. She just felt awkward facing him now.
Hanna forced an awkward smile and raised her sword. "Y-Yeah... sure."
Mikhail nodded and kicked off the ground. With a boom, their training swords clashed fiercely.
Hanna's blade emphasized speed. Mikhail's was slower but precise, unleashing full power through perfect form.
They collided swiftly, but Hanna's sword struck Mikhail's side first.
"Kuh..."
Mikhail winced and twisted away. Her blade barely grazed past. Hanna gave him no opening—once to the neck, once to the thigh, once more to the side. His flaws were glaring in her eyes. Neither fully defensive nor aggressive, just middling swordplay. Hanna clicked her tongue.
I used to think this was cool.
It lacked lethality. Focused not on victory, but suppression. It screamed of Mikhail's overly considerate nature, leaving Hanna feeling empty.
"You're thinking too basic. Down, up, side. Even my grandma could predict your next move if you stick to the ten forms."
"Building from the basics is what's important, right?"
"Basics are just basics."
The butler had crushed her past pride in her swordsmanship. No holding back for being a girl, no pulling punches—he'd topple her, lift her up, topple her again, repeating until he forged a style suited to her.
And then—
"I'll be right here, so you won't die."
She'd fought all-out under his watch. But the Mikhail before her now? Nothing like that. Using half-hearted techniques like he was waiting for some hero, purely reactive and passive. It bored her.
Mikhail tried channeling his aura. Golden light shimmered like heat haze.
"..."
Sloppy. She'd probably been the same once, but his aura wasn't intimidating or powerful. It felt like he was holding back, not trying to kill. Hanna scowled and called out.
"Senior. Are you even trying?"
She didn't want to bother anymore. She'd thought awakening aura made him a decent partner, but... this? Not even loving discipline.
Disappointed, Hanna lowered her sword. "I'm done."
"What...?"
"What's the point? No will to win, no sharp strikes... What are you, some street patrol guard? Suppressing without killing—what kind of swordsman does that?"
Turning from his bland, toothless style, Hanna walked away. Mikhail stood dazed in the training ground, staring blankly at his sword.
Class ended under a sunset sky. Hanna stared blankly at the red glow, sighing deeply.
"A birthday gift."
It won't leave my head.
The sunset always brought back that day. Blood-red dusk. The warmth of the butler's embrace as he effortlessly beat her lifelong rival and stood up to her father telling her to quit the sword—it still felt vivid.
"Haa..."
Maybe she should take a leave of absence. She missed the butler. Hanna looked at the letter in her hand.
Rowen Histania
A letter from her father. She knew the contents without opening it. It's dangerous, so quit the sword. The usual. Even after proving herself, he wouldn't acknowledge it. She'd awakened aura faster than him, yet he responded with indifference and nagging. Hanna's sighs grew heavier.
"So annoying."
No helping it—she thought of the butler in moments like this. Others thought of their parents in tough times... but her...
Hanna rubbed her dry face, sighed deeply, and stood.
The moment she rose, gazing at the red sunset—
Ding.
[Q. If He Hadn't Been There...]
A strange blue window appeared before her eyes.