Chapter 23
The Flower That Bears a Sword - Chapter 23
Translation: godsn
Without realizing it, Alice's eyes began following Eki's movements. The ideal swordplay she had envisioned was unfolding before her. She could only reflexively block incoming attacks, too absorbed in watching Eki's sword—just as Echinacea had merely blocked Alice's strikes during their duel.
Then Eki's sword shifted slightly. Alice, who had been watching in a daze, noticed immediately. Echinacea was now perfectly replicating every attack Alice had made during their duel.
The feint grazing the neck, the retreat, the forward advance with an overhead slash, the moment it was blocked—sliding off at an angle before thrusting toward the calf.
A shiver ran down her spine. Strength drained from her grip. Losing tension in one's hands during crossed blades was fatal. Alice's sword, clashing against Eki's, slipped from her grasp and went flying. The fallen blade rolled across the grassy field.
Alice stared at Eki with a hollow expression. Eki sheathed her sword, walked over to where Alice's blade had fallen, picked it up, and extended it toward her.
"Shall we continue?"
"Just now—what was that? How...?"
"Hmm? Don't want to go again?"
Eki maintained an innocent expression while carefully observing Alice's reaction.
Had Alice been someone like Bread von Poum, she would have flown into a rage. Had she lacked discernment in swordsmanship, she might not have even understood what Echinacea had done. Were she not the type to seriously study the blade, she might have focused more on the discomfort of this moment. If she lacked confidence in catching up, she might have drowned in despair. A pettier person might have succumbed to jealousy.
But Alice was none of these. With wide eyes, she hesitantly accepted her returned sword.
"P-please... once more."
Without answering, Eki raised her sword. She attacked in the same manner—replicating Alice's moves, but with increasingly perfect form. Though the sequence remained identical, each repetition became cleaner, while Alice tried varying her defenses.
Several more times, Alice lost her grip. Each time, Eki waited patiently as Alice hurriedly retrieved her sword and resumed stance. Not a word was exchanged as their duel continued.
As the sun began to set, Eki finally sheathed her sword.
"Good work, Miss Winterbell."
Alice was drenched in sweat, shoulders heaving with each labored breath. Though not as exhausted, Eki too was soaked—having deliberately refrained from using mana and relying purely on swordplay. As Eki retrieved the scabbard she'd earlier discarded and sheathed her blade, Alice stood motionless with a dazed expression. Only when Eki began walking away did Alice finally snap out of it.
"Miss Roaz!"
"Yes, Miss Winterbell."
"That just now... I mean, what you did to me..."
Alice fumbled over her words. After a brief pause, Eki responded.
"We sparred."
"Pardon?"
"Just cadets sparring. Commonplace at the academy, no?"
At Eki's casual tone, Alice's expression shifted. Her gaze steadied as she looked at Eki.
"I'm not a fool."
Her voice trembled faintly at the edges. The cadet who would have been this year's top student had Echinacea Roaz not existed—her excellence made the truth all the clearer.
Echinacea had bestowed upon Alice an invaluable opportunity. She had repeatedly demonstrated swordplay that mirrored Alice's own, yet more advanced and perfected. It was no different from personally guiding Alice down the path she needed to walk. No fragmented afterimages remained—for she had seen the perfected form with her own eyes.
Throughout their sparring match, Echinacea had remained silent. Yet Alice felt as though she'd heard an endless stream of words from her—not through her ears, but through her body and eyes.
If you move like this, you'll improve just a bit more. This stance suits you better and will be more effective. Raising your elbow here changes the weight distribution on your blade, making it more powerful. Adjusting the angle slightly in this position will sharpen your strike.
Your sword can grow stronger. Look, like this. No need to struggle. Just do it this way.
The sheer magnitude of this fortune left her speechless. Alice could already tell that after today, her swordplay would be utterly transformed. She would become sharper, more precise. Something swelled inside her chest, making her words stumble.
"Miss Roaz, you... to me..."
"I didn't do anything."
Echinacea cut her off. Wiping the sweat trickling down her temple with the back of her hand, she repeated firmly,
"Nothing at all. I just sparred with you, that's all."
"...You didn't do anything?"
"That's right. Sorry for interrupting your training. I need to wash up—I'll use the bath first, Miss Winterbell."
Echinacea glared at the sweat clinging to her gloves as if it were something distasteful, then turned away without hesitation. Alice stared blankly at her retreating figure before hastily following, too flustered to even remember the jacket she'd hung on a tree branch.
"Miss—Miss Roaz! You... I mean... Are you serious? That spar just now—was it really just a spar?"
"A spar is a spar. What else would it be?"
"...Even if my swordsmanship is completely different after this?"
"What does that have to do with me? It must be the result of your own efforts, Miss Winterbell."
"No, it's because of you."
Alice spoke honestly, her gaze unwavering. The way she looked at Echinacea had changed entirely—now strangely bright, shimmering.
What Echinacea had intended was to overwrite the lingering impression of her swordplay that she'd left on Alice during their duel with something far more vivid. To do so, she had provoked Alice, showing her the most striking image—Alice's own swordsmanship, perfected.
If someone mimics me but does it better, how infuriating would that be? She had expected Alice to react with anger or displeasure, whether it helped her or not.
"Thank you, Miss Roaz."
She hadn't anticipated this—being stared at with such sparkling eyes. She certainly hadn't expected outright gratitude. Echinacea was thoroughly flustered. Avoiding that gaze, she cut in sharply,
"Did I do anything worth thanking me for? It was just one spar."
Alice stared at her intently, then suddenly broke into a bright smile.
"Fine. If you say so."
That smile made her feel strangely embarrassed. The weight of Alice's gaze as she walked close beside her was downright oppressive. Her face burning, Echinacea snapped,
"Walk further away, Miss Winterbell."
"Huh?"
"You smell like sweat."
"......"
Alice blinked at her, then obediently took a few steps back. Keeping her distance, she retorted,
"Miss Roaz smells like sweat too, you know."
"I know, that's why I'm going to wash up. And I said it first, so I get to use the bath first."
"Right, understood. Go ahead."
Even though Echinacea was deliberately needling her, Alice kept smiling—an oddly pleased expression. Or rather, she looked so happy that her shining gaze refused to leave Echinacea. As they walked along the pine forest path, she murmured,
"I must have misunderstood a great deal about you, Miss Roaz."
"No, whatever it is, I'm sure it's not a misunderstanding."
"If anything, it was I who lacked the qualifications to be a knight, swayed by appearances."
"Excuse me, Miss Winterbell?"
"I thought you were someone who had no interest in swords and didn't take the path of knighthood seriously. I was steeped in prejudice. But after our spar earlier, I realized—you're actually more serious about swords than anyone. Miss Roaz, I apologize for judging you arbitrarily, blinded by superficial appearances."
It was a sincere and respectful apology. Eki felt goosebumps rise all over her body as she vehemently shook her head.
"No, Miss Winterbell. That's not prejudice. I really don't like swords that much."
"Yes, I understand. Let's say that's the case, then."
Alice replied with a still-smiling face. Her clear, unwavering gray eyes were so bright that Eki lost her words and averted her gaze. She had never experienced this kind of goodwill before and didn't know how to handle it.
Before turning twenty, apart from her family and Nicole, her only acquaintances had been noble ladies who maintained a polite distance. In the past she had erased, there had only been the curses and grudges from her time with the Magic Sword, or the barren relationships from when she was gathering Giosa afterward.
Such pure goodwill—and in a state where Alice seemed to have mistaken her for someone extraordinary—was unfamiliar. It would have been easier if Alice had taken offense. The bigger problem was that, despite the awkwardness, she felt a strange warmth.
Not knowing what to do, Eki quickened her pace without looking back at Alice. As soon as they reached their room, she immediately ducked into the bathroom.
Alice had noticed how Eki, who had opened the door first, held it briefly for her before following inside. She struggled to suppress her laughter until Eki had fully disappeared into the bathroom.
The next morning, the moment Eki woke up, she felt her body weighed down.
[See? This is why you should've used mana.]
Alice had been out since dawn, practicing to fully internalize what she had learned the day before. Buried deep in her bed, Eki lifted a hand. After removing her white glove, she saw blisters on her soft, unblemished palm. She sighed.
"Honestly, Alice Winterbell is just too serious."
[Hey, you keep forgetting this isn't your old body, don't you?]
"Shut up. If I used mana, it'd be the same."
[But you didn't yesterday.]
"I got swept up in the moment."
Her physical condition was undeniably poor. Though her skill and technique were so refined that she could endure far beyond her actual stamina, her body was still that of a noble lady who had only held a sword for less than two months. Without mana to support her, no matter how efficiently she moved, there were limits. While actively training, the adrenaline masked it well, but the aftermath always hit like this the next day.
Every muscle in her body screamed in protest. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she could feel a slight fever. Slipping her glove back on, she staggered upright with a groan.
"Ow, ow, ow."
[Ugh, you idiot.]
"Damn Magic Sword, can't you shut up?"
Grumbling as she dragged herself out of bed, she spotted a tray on the table.
Their dorm room had beds, desks, wardrobes, and dressers on either side, with a central table, chairs, bookshelf, sofa, and rug in between. The curtain divider provided enough privacy.
As she pushed the curtain aside to head to the bathroom, the table caught her eye. On the tray sat a lidded soup bowl, bread, salad, and a drink cup, neatly arranged. It was unmistakably breakfast brought from the communal dining hall.