Trap (6)
As Rozeta vanished, every trace of the ordeal melted away like a figment of imagination. The dark purple spiderwebs that had blanketed the floor, the grotesque remnants of things that were neither human nor doll—they all dissolved into thin air. It was as if nothing had ever happened, leaving only serene calm in their wake.
'Feels just like waking from a nightmare.'
But Silvena knew better. The desolation hanging in the training ground's air, the chill of the utter silence—they whispered that something had transpired here. Whatever had stormed in moments ago was no mere illusion without a trace. Its malice had burrowed deep into her bones.
"Ugh…!"
Her body still rebelled, battered by the mental domination's aftershocks and the fight's toll. Yet Silvena dragged herself upright and staggered toward Aren.
His face came into view, sprawled flat on the ground like a starfish.
"…Heh, how'd you take her down? Doesn't feel like we won, though."
Bruised with blood, vomit, and lingering mana, he looked wretched. Still, Aren flashed a V-sign with his fingers and grinned, as if the horrors they'd just endured meant nothing to him. That brazen nonchalance tugged an unwitting smile from Silvena too.
"…You alright?"
"I'll be fine soon enough. What about you, Silvena?"
"I'm good. I patched myself up bit by bit with mana from the sidelines."
Her magic was rudimentary at best—a crude hack of burning through her reserves to force her body back online. But it had helped. The blood seeping from her wounds had stanched, at least. All thanks to him.
"…Sorry. I just keep dragging you down. The entrance exam, and now this."
"Nah. Like I said before, if we're keeping score, I'm the one who got you tangled up in this."
"If I'd beaten that thing, it wouldn't have been an issue."
"Then if I hadn't been around you, there'd have been no problem either?"
His tone implied he was nothing but a nuisance. It irked her a little—even as she couldn't help picturing academy life without him, and frowned at the thought.
"…You never let up, do you? Sometimes it makes me want to throttle you."
"That's normal."
Shrugging, he earned a careful kneel from Silvena as she drew closer.
"Still, glad you're safe, Silvena."
"Thanks to you. But you sure had guts pulling that gamble in the thick of it."
Even under mental domination, her memories were crystal clear. Every word he'd thrown at her lingered verbatim. And that fearless resolve he'd shown, without a hint of hesitation.
Even if she'd been in his shoes, she doubted she'd have made the same call.
"How'd you muster that kind of courage?"
"'Cause I wanted to protect you."
"……."
A simple question, born of genuine curiosity—and his answer blindsided her. It set her pupils trembling.
"…Feels strange."
"What does?"
"Someone protecting me. First time I've ever heard it."
"Really?"
Nodding blankly, Silvena blinked at the hot lump swelling in her chest. Joy, unmistakably. But she couldn't pinpoint its source. Was she going daft for not knowing her own heart?
'I'm… happy.'
Rolling his words on her tongue, she felt a faint smile form. Only now did she dimly grasp why: 'Deep down, I've always wanted someone to protect me.'
Not as Bronheim's eldest, sworn to safeguard the North's people. Just a fleeting wish. Empty words would do, even from someone infinitely weaker. Silvena had simply yearned to hear, "I'll protect you."
That was who she was at heart.
The North's archduchess. Bronheim's heir. A blade guarding the frozen wastes.
From birth, her duty was set: villages, soldiers, kin.
'I have to be strong.'
That creed had grown along her spine over the years.
So when someone said, "I'll protect you," no wonder it felt so alien—and so joyful. Like a ragged village girl, scraping by on meager scraps her whole life, suddenly dressed in finery and feasting. Awkward, but warm and glad.
"Come to think of it, you said something like that earlier. That we should protect each other."
"Yeah."
"Maybe it threw me because it's so unfamiliar. In Silvena Bronheim's dictionary, 'protect' exists—but never 'be protected.'"
"Your sense of duty's too heavy. You'll get crushed."
Half-joking to lighten the mood, he smirked and shrugged. Silvena had never seen it as a burden. It was woven into her from birth, an instinct etched in her mind.
But maybe, as just Silvena the woman—not Bronheim's daughter—it weighed on her. Harboring such thoughts proved it.
"Bronheim has more than just you. The North too. At least here at the academy, set aside the urge to shield everyone."
"Tall order. But I'll try."
From her first step onto the battlefield—or perhaps from the moment Bronheim blood coursed through her veins—that mindset had never faded.
Shedding a lifetime's habit wouldn't be easy. Still, she'd give it a shot.
But that didn't mean abandoning her will to protect. If anything, today's events had sharpened it.
'I want to protect this man.'
Yes. At least while at the academy.
Or maybe even after.
A new someone she yearned to safeguard—one she'd clutch close like a treasure. Pressing it tight, Silvena turned her head away on impulse. Her cheeks burned.
Years caged by duty to protect others as the strong one.
The crack in that wall came not from dazzling magic or northern winds—but those short words: "I want to protect you."
"Aren."
"Yeah."
"Someday, when we graduate… will you come north with me?"
The swell in her chest grew unbearable. For the first time in her life, Silvena voiced a shy confession.
It took monumental courage. Her heart pounded harder than facing hundreds of barbarians.
What would he say? What face would he make? Would he shake his head coldly?
Anxiety gripped her; she fixated on his every breath.
"Sure, sounds good."
"R-really?"
But against all odds, he nodded readily. Time froze for Silvena. She half-wanted to pinch her cheek, to check if this was real or dream.
"Yeah. Not every day you get scouted like this."
"…Huh?"
"Working for a grand ducal house? Gotta be a rare gig. Just hit me up if you still feel the same then."
"……."
His follow-up hit like cold water. They'd missed each other entirely.
Wait—had this fool mistaken her life's boldest confession for a job offer?
Deflation crashed over her, sapping her strength. She wanted to shout: No! I don't just want your muscle as a retainer!
If she were rougher, she'd have slammed him against the wall per Rizbat's advice and shown him the subtext firsthand.
Alas, Silvena was a gentlewoman. Or more precisely, a shy one who couldn't manhandle the man she loved.
"…Hah."
The bottled emotions escaped as a slender sigh.
But why? She wasn't mad. A spark of competitive fire ignited instead.
Hadn't he said it himself? If her feelings held, he'd beg for the chance.
'You're the problem, Aren.'
Rationalizing inwardly, Silvena curled her lips upward. Fine—this man was at fault. Spouting lines ripe for misunderstanding. Rattling women's hearts with his careless guard. Now he dangled bait that made her want to cling. No choice but to play dirty.
"Don't worry. After graduation, I'll drag you north. Promise."
"Nice. Oh, but I gotta clear it with my lady first…."
"No need."
"Huh?"
"I said no permission needed."
Permission? What permission? After wagging his tail like that, he thought he could dodge with "I've got a lady"? Fat chance.
As promised, on graduation day, she'd haul him straight to Loopheim Fortress. Silvena vowed it.