Hey, Let's Throw Down!
Hey, let's have a go! That was my exact impression the first time I ran into Neriel Marit—the tower lord's prized disciple and, I suspected, one of the main heroines in the original story.
What the hell? This purple-haired personality trash.
Normally, if you bump into someone by accident, you both apologize, right? I was about to do just that, but her sharp rebuke soured my mood instantly. And it must've shown on my face.
"What're you scowling for? You bumped into me, so shouldn't you apologize? Didn't your parents teach you any manners?"
"……."
This rotten bitch. Hitting me with family jabs right off the bat? You think an orphan like me just takes that lying down? And who the hell's the one who actually seems to have missed out on any upbringing?
"You think I was the only one? You weren't even watching where you were going."
For a split second, I definitely saw it. She was so fixated on scanning the bookshelves for whatever she was after that she missed the path entirely. Trying to dodge a swordsman's eyes? Ballsy move.
"What? You know who I am and you still raise your voice at me?"
"Yeah, I know. Neriel Marit, top of the magic class."
"You know that and you still act like this? You, a lowly ape who only knows how to swing a sword."
She pointed blatantly at the sword on my hip, spewing outright disdain. Honestly, I didn't care much about the insults aimed at me. But calling me "someone who just swings a sword"? That felt like a dig at my classmates, the grand duchess, and even Camilla, who taught me the blade. My blood boiled.
"Better than a sniveling bookworm who just reads all day in her room."
I fired back without missing a beat. I figured she'd explode right then, but surprisingly, she just clicked her tongue like I wasn't even worth responding to and turned away.
"Tch, this is why you barbarians are so hopeless. You don't even grasp the greatness of magic and spout this nonsense."
"Better than a hollow shell who reads all those books but doesn't know a single line about the greatness of martial prowess, right?"
"Hey, you done talking?"
"Nah, not yet. You narcissistic purple-headed bookworm bitch."
"Wha—?!"
Damn, ever since Camilla picked me up, I'd been trying to keep my temper in check. But this manners-less hag was dragging it right back out. You think I hold back because I can't talk shit?
"H-how dare you call my noble name like that?!"
"Who's the one who started with the 'hey you' crap? Can't you read the name tag?"
I pointed to the nameplate on my left chest, and she snorted derisively.
"I don't bother remembering names of nobodies like you."
"Oh man, your highness has graced us. No wonder you got no friends."
"Hmph, as if I need trash like that. Better to read an extra page in that time."
Yeah, all you outsiders say the same crap. No time for friends, it's unproductive, whatever. But here's the thing.
"You know, if you're actually decent, friends just happen without you trying. Probably means your personality's so trash no one gives you the time of day."
"You damn ape…."
"What, pissed? Wanna throw down then?"
"Just what I wanted…!"
I slapped my hand on my sword hilt and taunted her. She matched me, ready to counter. The air crackled like we were about to slam fireballs and blades into each other's faces—until.
Thud—!
"…You there, students. This is a library. Keep it quiet. If you're gonna fight, take it outside."
"……."
"……."
A massive thud echoed, followed by a stern warning. I turned to see a hulking woman who looked like she belonged in a mercenary training ground, not a library. She was nearly as tall as the bookshelves. Human or gorilla? One more raised voice and we'd both be eating floor, so we shut up.
Only after the gorilla—no, the librarian—turned and left did we glance at each other and whisper, volumes so low they were like ants crawling.
"…Hey, narcissistic purple-head."
"I told you not to call me that. Ape."
"Whatever. You entering the inter-class competition?"
"Of course I am. I'm the top student."
Even now, puffing up her neck like that. What a narcissist. Anyway, that simplified things.
"Wash your neck and wait then."
"Hmph, you're not saying a pathetic ape like you plans to face me, right?"
"What, scared? Chicken out if you want."
I flipped her the thumbs-down with a smirk. Her face twisted like it was the most ridiculous thing she'd heard.
"…Fine. Watching a pathetic ape roll around in front of the crowd might be fun."
"Yeah, wonder what the reaction'll be when the tower lord's disciple gets humiliatingly beaten by a commoner swordsman."
I snorted back at her psychological jab, turning to leave—then paused.
"By the way, my name's Aren. Remember it."
Figured she should know the name of the guy who'd take her down. But she brushed past me without a care.
"I told you, I don't bother with names of worthless trash."
She left showing off that second-year syndrome vibe to the bitter end. Total pain in the ass, that narcissistic purple-head.
＊
At the same time, in the Knight Class A homeroom.
Even though classes had ended for the day, one person hadn't left yet.
What a shame.
It was Silvena, staring down at the inter-class competition entry form in her hands, nursing her regrets.
Her name and those of two other A-Class students were filled in, plus one from B-Class—exactly four. But one slot remained blank, waiting desperately for someone.
She really has no intention of accepting, does she?
Silvena sighed inwardly. She'd thought that guy could deliver big results. Now she might have to approach Trisi from C-Class, the one he'd recommended.
It's such a pity not to see that sword dance again.
The image of his strikes from the class placement exam—watched from afar, if only briefly—still burned vividly in her mind. They weren't perfect. Rough around the edges from lack of real combat experience, and his sword aura wasn't as refined as hers.
But she could swear, it was more beautiful than any swordplay she'd ever seen. That fearless blade tip charging ahead, braving danger—it was heroic. The praise she'd tossed at Aren earlier wasn't a joke or exaggeration; that proved it.
"Hoo."
But what could she do? If he didn't want to, she couldn't force him.
She'd half-expected it. Their interactions weren't super deep, but he didn't seem the type to get dragged into needless hassle. That's why she'd pushed a bit aggressively, like he had no choice.
But seeing him look reluctant softened her resolve.
I didn't know he'd whine like such an ordinary boy.
Aren would probably gape and say, "Me?" But to Silvena, who'd seen it firsthand, it packed a punch. People always have that strange charm when they show a side different from usual.
The guy who always seemed bolder and more carefree than any girl, acting so boyishly masculine—it had left her stunned. Otherwise, she might've pushed harder.
"…Guess I'll have to visit C-Class tomorrow."
Trisi, was it? Unfamiliar name, but if he recommended her, she could be trusted.
As she reached to tuck the paper into her bag—
Slide—!
"Hah, huff…! Lady Silvena, you're still here."
"What brings you here…."
The classroom door flew open like it might shatter, and a familiar face appeared. Silvena's eyes widened. It was the very guy who'd filled her thoughts moments ago: Aren.
And his tone suggested he'd been urgently looking for her.
"Nothing major. That inter-class rep spot I turned down earlier—is it still open?"
"That…."
Of course it was. But why ask now? She swallowed the rest, and he took it as a no.
"Figured you'd already offered it to Trisi."
"Ah, no. The C-Class spot's still open."
As he muttered disappointedly and turned to go, Silvena—uncharacteristically urgent—grabbed him.
"Really? Why haven't you…."
"Well…."
She couldn't say, "Because I still cling to the hope of going with you." Gauging his reaction, she forced out a lame excuse.
"The deadline's tomorrow, so I was mulling it over carefully."
"Ah, got it."
"But why ask if it's open? Don't tell me…."
Remembering how curtly he'd refused earlier, she thought no—but hope lingered as she asked.
He scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"Yeah, well… I suddenly got a reason I really wanna join. If it's cool, can I take that offer from before?"
"What reason not to? But why the change of heart?"
She nodded gladly at his decision, a joyful smile breaking through. But curiosity nagged—what flipped him in such a short time?
Was he secretly glory-hungry despite playing it cool? Or… did he want to team up with her?
Excitement flickered in her usually icy eyes.
"Truth is, there's this jerk I wanna beat the crap out of."
"………Huh?"
He cracked his knuckles with a sinister pop, declaring his intent like a beast growling. Silvena froze at his feral expression.
What had she just heard? He was using the honorable rep spot for personal revenge?
"There's a narcissistic purple-head in the magic class. Leave him to me. I'll wreck him good."
"……."
She felt like an idiot for getting her hopes up, words failing her. This was the knight class, so why'd a thug wander in?
But somehow, it felt so him—and she couldn't help but laugh.
Whatever the reason, what mattered was he'd decided to join.