The Black Moon Knew My Name
Siella Bayern did not like dawn. More precisely, she hated the silence of dawn. It was far too quiet, forcing her to confront her mistakes with painful clarity.
The sword sliced through the air. Whoosh. The training ground's atmosphere split apart. Her red hair clung to the nape of her neck, damp with sweat. Her palms stung inside her gloves. She had already repeated the same motion hundreds of times. Yet Siella did not stop.
Again. Draw the sword, slash, return it to its sheath. Again. Lower her stance with the scabbard still in hand, block the opponent's approach angle, then draw upward a beat late. Again. She recalled that moment in the Rose Garden she had missed. When the black blade had surged toward Aria, Kyle had moved first.
Kyle Diaren. The scoundrel of a fallen ducal house. The insignificant noble who had challenged her to a duel and lost. Yet he had thrown himself forward without hesitation.
Siella could not forget that scene. His swordsmanship was far from perfect. His movements were clumsy. His mana control was unstable, and his posture would have been considered dangerous from a knight's perspective. But he had moved with precision—not out of a willingness to die, but to avoid dying. And still, he had done it to protect someone.
That contradictory motion refused to leave her mind.
“This is annoying.”
The sword cut through the air once more.
“Why did you have to move first?”
She was angry at herself. The sword of House Bayern was the shield of the empire. She had been taught that since childhood. Those who wielded blades must stand at the front. They must face danger before anyone else.
But that night, the one who had stood at the front was not her. It was Kyle.
Dew from the early morning had settled on the training ground floor. With every swing of her sword, the cold air parted, and white mist scattered with each breath she exhaled. Siella watched the mist fade before gripping her sword again.
She had always believed she needed to grow stronger. But today's strength felt different. In the past, she had sought power to prove her family's name, to demonstrate that Bayern's blade was the sharpest in the empire, to show she was a knight second to none.
Now, however, neither family nor honor occupied her thoughts. Instead, she saw Kyle's face, bloodied yet trying to smile. When she had told him she would not forgive him if he died, he had genuinely tried to laugh. That irritated her even more.
“It wasn't a situation worth smiling about.”
Siella sheathed her sword. Click. The sound echoed unusually loud. She rested her hand on the scabbard and took a moment to steady her breathing.
Since childhood, the sword had been her most familiar language. She had held it when joyful, when angry, and especially when she failed. The sword never answered back. That made it comfortable. People asked questions—why she was late, why she wavered, why she avoided eye contact. The sword asked none of those things. It only revealed her shortcomings through the marks left on her hands.
Yet today, even the sword offered no answer. No matter how many times she swung it, the image of Kyle leaping in front of Aria refused to disappear.
“You're quite intense for this early in the morning.”
A voice came from behind. Without turning, Siella spoke.
“Here to watch, Senior?”
Noel Ignis stood leaning against the training ground entrance, wearing a thin cloak and holding a cup that smelled of coffee.
“Half watching, half confirming.”
“Confirming what?”
“How much you've been shaken by Kyle.”
Siella's sword was halfway drawn. Noel raised her hands.
“Just kidding. Half of it.”
“You have a talent for getting under people's skin.”
“It's practically my major.”
Siella slid the sword back into its sheath. Noel slowly entered the training ground. The morning mist curled around her ankles. As expected of a senior from the Magic Department, her footsteps made almost no sound.
“Kyle woke up.”
Siella's hand paused.
“How is he?”
“Alive. Aria's sticking close, Rhea shoved some protection documents at him, and Kyle already looked exhausted.”
Siella exhaled shortly. Relief. Not wanting it noticed, she immediately raised her sword and assumed her stance. Noel did not miss it.
“You like him.”
“It's relief.”
“Same thing.”
“It's different.”
“How so?”
Siella did not answer. She simply looked at Noel, sword in hand.
“What's happening to Kyle?”
Noel's expression grew slightly serious.
“I want to know too.”
“You don't know either, Senior?”
“No. That's why it's annoying.”
Noel set down her coffee cup.
“In the Rose Garden, the man from the Black Moon mentioned the 'original story.' That word isn't used in ordinary prophecies or fatalism. According to records, it only appears a few times in ancient forbidden texts.”
“Forbidden texts?”
“Heretical documents that interpret the world's flow like a story. Most of it is nonsense. But this time, it's hard to dismiss.”
Siella furrowed her brows.
“Do you think Kyle knows about it?”
“Probably.”
“Does that mean he's the mastermind?”
Noel shook her head.
“No. If he were, he wouldn't bleed so earnestly. At the very least, a mastermind who nearly dies three times from the beginning would be inefficient.”
“Then what is he?”
“A variable.”
Noel's violet eyes gleamed darkly in the dawn light.
“Someone who should have died is surviving, and in doing so, he's changing the choices of those around him.”
Siella felt an unpleasant sensation. The phrase “should have died” did not sit well with her.
“Kyle is alive.”
Noel looked at Siella. Without realizing it, Siella continued.
“And he will stay alive from now on.”
A brief silence followed. Noel slowly smiled.
“Kyle would be quite flustered if he heard that.”
“Stop saying unnecessary things.”
“Still, should I say it anyway?”
This time, Siella fully drew her sword. Noel laughed and stepped back.
“How scary.”
Just then, footsteps approached from the training ground entrance. Both Siella and Noel turned their heads at once.
It was Kyle. More precisely, it was Kyle accompanied by a royal knight and Aria at his side. His face was still somewhat pale from recovery, but he stood steadily on both feet. Aria held onto his sleeve, while the royal knight behind them remained expressionless.
Siella lowered her sword almost instinctively.
“You—why are you here?”
Kyle smiled awkwardly.
“I was on my way to a professor meeting when I heard the sound of swords.”
“Go back.”
“Right now?”
“There's no reason for a patient to be at the training ground.”
Aria nodded in agreement.
“I told him the same thing.”
Kyle let out a small sigh.
“Everyone keeps treating me like I'm just a patient.”
Siella's gaze sharpened.
“Then how would you like to be seen?”
The question was not a simple joke. Kyle looked at Siella for a moment before answering.
“As a fellow team member.”
Siella's hand paused on the sword hilt.
“Or as someone who survived together yesterday and the day before.”
Siella averted her eyes. Strangely, her chest felt uncomfortable.
“Then I suppose I need to become even stronger.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Siella lifted her scabbard and lightly tapped it against Kyle's chest, careful not to touch his injuries.
“If you're going to throw yourself into danger again next time, at least become strong enough not to die.”
Kyle gave her a subtle look.
“Is that an invitation to train, or a threat?”
“Both.”
Even as she spoke, Siella felt an odd sensation. In the past, she would have thought Kyle Diaren wasn't worth speaking to like this. But now it was different. He was weak. Dangerous. Constantly getting hurt. Yet strangely, she did not want to ignore that weakness.
He tried to stand at the front despite being weak. Therefore, he needed to grow stronger—whether to place him behind or beside her.
“By the way,” Siella said, scanning Kyle's posture, “in your current state, you wouldn't be able to hold a sword for long.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Your steps are shorter. You're unconsciously protecting your right side, and your left arm's reaction is delayed. I heard your arm had healed, but it seems some mana residue remains.”
Kyle blinked.
“You noticed all that?”
“A knight must observe their opponent's body.”
Aria immediately interjected.
“That means no training.”
Siella looked at Aria.
“I need to see him to make a training plan.”
“The plan can wait until after his wounds heal.”
“If he stays still until then, he'll just get hurt again in the next attack.”
“If he pushes himself, he'll collapse before that happens.”
Neither voice was raised, yet the air in the training ground grew tense. Noel clapped from the side.
“Nice. Love and violence mixed in just the right amount.”
“Senior.”
“Yes?”
“Be quiet.”
Siella spoke coldly. Aria quietly tightened her grip on Kyle's sleeve.
“Training is only after his wounds have completely healed.”
Siella met Aria's gaze.
“And when would that be?”
“When I determine he's fine.”
“Is that judgment objective?”
“When it comes to Kyle's condition, I'm more objective than anyone.”
“That doesn't sound like something someone who's still holding his hand would say.”
Aria's smile stiffened slightly.
“I still think it's better than someone who would hit a patient with a scabbard.”
Sparks flew between them once more. Kyle looked up at the sky. Dawn had not yet ended. But his peaceful academy life had already come to a complete close.
Noel watched the three of them and pulled out her notebook again.
Knight's daughter: Guilt transforming into protective desire. Clashing with Saintess candidate over protection methods. Kyle remains unaware.
Kyle's physical condition: Right flank injury effects ongoing. Left arm mana residue. High risk of re-injury if overexerted.
Potential emotional conflict: High.
Noel finished writing the last line and smiled faintly.
“At this rate, they might explode before the Black Moon does.”
She lifted her head and looked toward the eastern sky. The sun was rising. The red sword of the dawn training ground remained sheathed. But Siella Bayern's emotions had already begun, little by little, to be drawn out.