CHAPTER 268: TWO OPTIONS

Few hours later....

"How is this even possible? A draw? Damn it!"

On the way back to the dormitory, Leona grumbled, clearly dissatisfied with the result.

For the record, she, Ryen, and Leo all had the exact same record—

1 win, 4 draws, 0 losses.

The matches between the three of them had all been declared draws under the professors’ mediation, and each of them held a record of 1 win and 2 draws against the professors.

Even with restrictions in place, the fact that they’d managed to draw against Professor Aria and Professor Lena was insane.

"Ugh, damn it... I could’ve won if I’d just done a little better," Leona muttered, kicking at the ground.

I thought back to how it went in the original story.

In that timeline, after her duel with Leo, she had stood frozen on the arena floor, staring at her trembling hands.

"I... lost...?" she whispered, as if she couldn’t believe it.

Leo had smirked, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve.

"You’re pretty good," he’d said, his tone dripping with mockery. "Good enough to be on my team."

Then came her match against Ryen. He’d met her first strike without even flinching, eyes cold and calculating.

"I’ve seen enough of your swordsmanship," he’d said casually, like he was commenting on the weather. "I already figured you out at the start of the semester."

When he disarmed her moments later, she’d stood in stunned silence before collapsing to her knees.

"You... lost again?" Leo’s voice had followed, smug and merciless.

Back then, she’d broken—crumbling under the weight of humiliation and defeat.

But now?

Now, she wouldn’t crumble like that.

Looking at her now, I realized... this smile suited her far more than the one she wore when she was breaking apart in the original timeline.

"Hey, what’s with that look? Do you think I’m bluffing? I could have won both matches if I’d just played it a little smarter."

"Sure," I said, not even trying to hide the smirk.

"Geez. You’re looking down on me just because of my gear, aren’t you? Even a legendary sword needs a skilled wielder to show its true power."

She had a point.

And yet... there was also a certain idiot who managed to lose to a shotgun while wielding Lan.

That idiot, dear reader, would be me—Rin Evans.

And if you’re wondering, yes, Aria Collins is still walking around after our match like she just came back from a pleasant stroll instead of a duel that nearly turned me into decorative wall art.

I swear, the girl has two modes: "bored" and "psychotically amused."

"You’re lucky," she said when we passed each other in the hallway later, her tone sweet enough to rot teeth.

"...Lucky?" I repeated.

"Mhm." She leaned just close enough that I could feel the heat of her breath against my ear. "Because next time, I’m not stopping after six shots."

A shiver crawled down my spine, but I forced a grin. "Next time, I’ll bring earplugs. You’re way too loud."

Her eyes narrowed—not with anger, but with that same dangerous excitement from earlier. "Good. I like when my targets talk back."

Leona, walking beside me, gave me a sidelong glance. "You two are creepy."

I started to defend myself, but Aria just waved and sauntered off, humming some cheerful little tune that did not match the look she’d given me.

Anyway, end of flashback, that was bad memorie of mine as of today.

"Still, I will get that first rank no matter what." Leona mumbled besides and looking at her I couldn’t help but chuckle.

...And that was the mistake.

Leona stopped dead in her tracks, slowly turning to face me like a predator catching the faintest whiff of weakness.

"...What’s so funny, Rin?"

I instantly regretted every life choice that had led me to this exact second. "Nothing. Just... you sounded really serious, that’s all."

Her eyes narrowed. "Serious? Are you implying I’m not always serious?"

"That’s not— I mean— you’re serious, just... in a different kind of way sometimes."

A dangerous smile crept across her lips. "Rin..." She stepped closer, and I swear the temperature around us dropped ten degrees. "Were you... mocking me?"

I held up my hands defensively. "No! Definitely not. You’ve got that whole ’I’m-gonna-be-first-rank-no-matter-what’ energy, and I respect that."

"Mm-hm." She didn’t sound convinced.

"Still," I muttered under my breath, "you can’t take first place."

And when I say "muttered," I mean the kind of slow, drawn-out mutter that should’ve been impossible for anyone to catch.

Somehow, Leona caught it.

"Why? I said I can win next time."

"Well," I said, choosing my words with exaggerated care, "even if you win in practicals... your grades in the general subjects aren’t exactly... stellar, Leon."

Her brow furrowed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means," I continued, "that while the practicals have way more weight, the general subjects still count."

"...Huh?"

That was right.

Ryen might look like he forgot what day it is half the time, but the guy’s a genius. And Leo? He trains and studies like he’s allergic to free time.

Leona, on the other hand...

"Wait," she said, blinking at me. "Do general subjects count toward the ranking?"

"They do," I said. "Not much, but they do."

"...Then why do we even take midterms and finals if they barely count?"

I gave her a flat look. "Because the professors like watching us suffer?"

Her face fell, and for the first time, I realized—she genuinely didn’t know.

Her entrance exam scores in the general subjects hadn’t been terrible, but they were nowhere near top-tier. If she kept that up, first place was going to stay a dream no matter how many duels she won.

And there was only one thing I could do for the devastated Leona standing in front of me.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Alright, Leon... you’ve got two options."

She eyed me warily. "Options?"

"Yeah. Option one—you accept that first place is a lost cause and go for a respectable second or third. You’ll still get bragging rights, maybe a parade."

Her glare could’ve cut glass. "Option two?"

I grinned. "You let me tutor you in the general subjects."

"...You?" she said flatly, as if I’d just suggested she hand over her sword and fight with a spoon.

"Hey," I said, putting a hand over my chest. "I’ll have you know my grades are—"

"Barely passing?" she supplied helpfully.

I choked. "Excuse you. I’m above barely passing. And anyway, I’ve got my own methods."

Leona folded her arms, clearly unconvinced. "Your methods being...?"

"Creative," I said, with the exact kind of confidence that would make any sane person suspicious. "Listen, I can turn you from ’practical combat monster’ into ’well-rounded student’ in no time."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but the faint crease in her brow told me she was considering it.

"I don’t know..." she muttered. "Studying with you sounds like a trap."

"Trap?" I gasped in mock offense. "Leon, I’m hurt. When have I ever set you up?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"...Point taken," I said quickly. "But this is different. If you want that first rank, we’ll need to work on your weakest link. Which, let’s be real, is anything that doesn’t involve swinging a weapon."

She stared at me like I’d just told her magic wasn’t real.

"...So you’re saying I have to actually study?" she asked, voice trembling like I’d demanded she sacrifice her sword to the gods.

"Yes," I said, very slowly, like explaining to a child why eating rocks was bad. "Study. Books. Reading. Remember those?"

Leona blinked at me. "I’m allergic to books."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You’re not allergic to books."

"Yes, I am. Every time I open one, my eyes glaze over, my head gets heavy, and then—bam—three hours of my life gone and I wake up drooling on the desk."

"That’s called falling asleep, Leon."

"Exactly! Allergic."

I sighed. "If you keep this up, you’ll never get first place. And if you don’t get first place..." I paused for dramatic effect, "...Ryen will."

Her expression shifted from disbelief to full-blown horror. "...No. No way. That smug bastard is not standing on the podium above me."

"Then you’d better let me help you study," I said with the calm finality of someone offering a condemned prisoner their last meal.

She squinted at me. "...You? You barely passed the last theory exam."

I raised a finger. "Correction: I strategically minimized my effort to focus on practical training. Big difference."

"That’s just failing with extra steps."

"Do you want my help or not?"

Her jaw worked silently for a moment before she groaned, throwing her head back like I’d just sentenced her to a lifetime in prison. "Fine. But if I die from boredom, I’m haunting you."

"Deal," I said, already imagining her haunting me by throwing textbooks at my head.