Chapter 26
The Flower That Bears a Sword - Chapter 26
Translation: godsn
Theo let out a low whistle.
"Pretty, isn't she? A sight for sore eyes among all these dark-clad cadets."
"What use is beauty in becoming a knight? Ah, but perhaps she has her uses, if the rumors are true."
Mihail twisted his lips. Though she was pretty enough, in his eyes, his elder sister Teresa was far more beautiful than that girl.
No one sat near Echinacea Roaz. An invisible wall seemed to surround her, leaving the space around her conspicuously empty. Cadets arriving in groups deliberately avoided her vicinity, choosing seats elsewhere. Amidst this, one newly arrived cadet walked straight toward her.
"Isn't that Alice Winterbell?"
Alice, wearing her neatly pressed cadet uniform, approached Echinacea and said something. Echinacea, who had been responding half-heartedly, visibly startled when Alice sat down beside her. As Alice spoke with a smile, Echinacea awkwardly averted her gaze, propped her chin on her hand, and sighed.
Then—just for a fleeting moment—a small smile appeared. The kind that spills out despite attempts to suppress it, overflowing beyond control. An expression flashed across her face—embarrassed, bashful, yet undeniably tinged with joy she couldn't conceal.
"...Huh."
Mihail, who had been watching her continuously, caught that smile too. Something inside him clattered unsteadily.
"Huh? Huh?"
The boy muttered like an idiot. What—what was this feeling? What had he just seen? No, it was just some girl smiling a little. Mihail rubbed his eyes with his hands, looked at Echinacea again, then slapped his own cheek.
"What are you doing?"
Theo asked in a baffled tone. Mihail kept his gaze fixed straight ahead on the arena, one cheek flushed bright red.
"Nothing."
His stomach churned strangely. Mihail channeled it into anger. How could he get distracted by some girl who probably wore dresses just to bewitch men? He felt pathetic and ashamed. At eighteen—the youngest age allowed for academy admission—the boy clenched his scabbard tightly. He desperately wished for his turn to come quickly.
"Number 7, Mihail von Franc Almari! Number 8, Echinacea Roaz!"
Cadet Representative Ian raised his voice to call them. Mihail sprang up from his seat and strode into the arena. Across from him, Echinacea approached with light, graceful steps. Facing the woman in her white dress, he might as well have been standing in a ballroom rather than a ranking match arena.
If this were a ballroom, he would have placed a hand over his chest, bowed elegantly, and asked for a dance. The thought crossed Mihail's mind unbidden, and he grimaced. It was all because she dressed so extravagantly—putting ridiculous ideas in his head. Damn that girl. Whether she was a lady or not, he'd smash her to pieces and forget about her. The boy glared at Echinacea with furious eyes.
"...May mercy and tolerance be granted to the victor, submission and acknowledgment to the vanquished, and may honor and justice dwell within the blades of the duelists. Ar Sebat-tiem."
A third-year assisting with the proceedings drew his sword, pointed it between them as he recited the ceremonial duel declaration, then stepped back. The moment the leveled sword withdrew, the match began.
Mihail held his sword vertically. The swordsmanship of his house, Franc Almari, specialized in impregnable defense and counterattacks built upon it. Teresa had reached Master rank with this swordsmanship and risen to become a Giosa Owner. Mihail had absolute faith in his technique.
'Come at me. Just come...!'
Instead of charging immediately, Echinacea tilted her sword diagonally and studied Mihail. Her violet eyes reflected the boy's form. Mihail grew irritated. Why wasn't she attacking? What was that woman thinking about?
At that moment, she stepped forward. One—a large stride forward. Two—the sword that had been hanging loosely traced a semicircular arc as it surged upward. Mihail gauged the trajectory and prepared to parry. And three.
Clang!
Mihail's sword flew through the air. No one could comprehend what had happened until the blade that had been floating midair clattered onto the training ground floor. The fallen sword rolled noisily across the ground.
Mihail stared blankly at his now-empty hand. A light breeze brushed past, tousling his bangs. He lifted his head. The tip of a blade had come to a halt right before his forehead. Beyond that sword, violet eyes curved gently, as if gazing at a cute child.
"......Number 8, Echinacea Roaz wins."
"Wh-what?"
"What just happened?"
"Did you see that?"
"No, what in the world......"
After the bewildered third-year's declaration, a flood of murmurs erupted like a burst dam. Echinacea calmly sheathed her sword and returned to the waiting room. The crisp click-clack of her heels against the floor echoed clearly.
Mihail stood frozen as if his soul had left his body. A third-year approached and tapped him repeatedly to snap him out of it. Only then did Mihail, his face burning red from his nape to his forehead, storm out—not to the waiting room, but straight outside.
Theo assumed his roommate had fled out of sheer embarrassment from his humiliating defeat and followed after him. After searching around the training grounds for a while, he finally spotted that flash of golden hair. Mihail stood at the far corner of the indoor training ground, banging his head against the wall.
"Mihail, were you caught off gua—?"
Half-intending to tease him, Theo grabbed his shoulder—only to swallow the rest of his words when he saw the boy's expression. His face was still flushed, his green eyes hazy and unfocused. The angelic boy wore such a look that it somehow seemed dangerously unsettling. Flustered, Theo stammered and patted his back.
"Y-you okay? Hey, everyone makes mistakes sometimes. It's fine, it's fine."
"It wasn't a mistake."
"Huh?"
"I said it wasn't a mistake. Didn't you see it?"
"See what?"
"Never mind, you brat. Live your whole life not knowing. You only see as much as you understand."
"Have you lost it? What are you even saying?"
Mihail pressed his burning cheeks with his palms. In a dazed murmur, he muttered,
"I've never seen a woman like her before."
"......"
Theo concluded that his roommate had lost his mind from the shock of being defeated in a single stroke. Mihail rubbed his face a few times, then slapped both cheeks sharply, his gaze steadying.
"Let's go."
"Go where?"
"We have to keep watching. Not a single one of her matches can be missed."
"......Who? The Lady?"
"Yeah, hurry up and follow me. And this time, focus until your eyes fall out so you don't miss anything. You'll thank me later."
Mihail grabbed Theo's arm as if dragging him along and headed for the spectator seats. Theo, dumbfounded, was pulled along before finally wrenching his arm free.
"Hey, you got knocked out, but I still have matches left, you know?"
"Ah."
Mihail blinked. Then his expression turned grave.
"I lost, didn't I?"
"This punk's been spouting nonsense since earlier."
"But I really wanted to join the monster subjugation..."
"Give it up. Go wash your feet and get some sleep."
"Never mind. I'll just challenge whoever ranks in the top three after the tournament."
Mihail let out a hollow laugh. Theo, exasperated, snorted.
"Sure, after getting knocked out by the Lady's single strike. Aren't you ashamed? You clearly need more training."
"Once this ranking tournament is over."
Mihail headed toward the spectator seats while gripping Theo's shoulder firmly. The boy lowered his golden lashes and murmured as if in a dream.
"No one will consider it shameful to lose to her."
"...What do you mean by that? That losing to the Lady is only natural?"
"You'll understand when you see it. So watch closely. You're the one who needs more training."
Mihail pushed Theo aside and headed up the stairs to the spectator seats. Theo scratched the back of his head in apparent confusion before returning to the waiting room.
Echinacea Roaz had no thoughts in particular. She'd applied muscle pain ointment, taken antibiotics, and even drunk ginger tea before sleeping soundly, yet her body still felt slightly heavy. As a result, everything felt bothersome.
'Since I'm tired, I should finish this quickly.'
After deciding to take first place in the freshman ranking tournament, she'd planned to put on something of a show. Nothing major—just leading the matches with flashy techniques impressive enough to captivate the greenhorn cadets' attention.
But with lingering fatigue, even that felt tedious. As long as she overwhelmed them enough to prevent any nasty rumors, wasn't that sufficient? Standing before her first-round opponent, Mihail, she resolved to end it as swiftly as possible.
Seeing the boy take his stance brought back a faint memory. It was the same preparatory posture as Teresa, the Giosa Owner who had stubbornly clung to her to let Dietrich escape.
'He's her younger brother, so of course it would be.'
Eki didn't remember the circumstances of Mihail's death very well. He'd just been one of many she'd cut down like stalks of straw. She only remembered him because she'd seen Teresa, who arrived too late at Agenka, clutching his corpse and weeping.
Teresa had wielded a swordsmanship specialized in defense. Her sword was like a sturdy, towering, beautiful fortress wall. That swordsmanship suited both her temperament and her Giosa, Dimongiosa, perfectly—for Dimongiosa was a "sword for protection," forged from human sorrow and the instinct to defend.
'So he modeled himself after his sister. But defensive swordsmanship doesn't quite suit his disposition.'
Just from his stance alone, she could roughly sense it. Having fought Teresa's sword before had its advantages.
'For Teresa's sake, maybe I should offer some advice if the opportunity arises...'
With that thought, Eki raised her sword. Then, exploiting the glaring weakness she saw, she struck the boy's blade aside in a single motion and leveled her sword at his forehead to end the match.
His dazed expression was so fresh. A living face. Teresa must still be alive too, and surely the two were close siblings. Here too, she felt the worth of having turned back time. The thought pleased her enough that she smiled slightly.
When she returned to the waiting room, Alice approached. The girl gazed at Eki with sparkling eyes and whispered,
"You show a different side of yourself than when you spar with me, Miss Roaz."
"...Just call me by my name, Miss Winterbell."
"Is that really alright?"
"You can speak casually too. The formality is making me itch unbearably."
When there was distance between them, honorifics and polite titles hadn't bothered her, but being looked at with such worshipful eyes while hearing such words was mortifying. Having said what she'd been meaning to, Eki carefully took her seat, mindful of wrinkling her dress. She paid no attention to the gazes of the other cadets gathering around.
"If I may speak casually... will you spar with me again next time?"