That kid…!”
The boy who once made her feel a strange sense of unease.
He had been lying face-down on his desk back then, so she hadn’t been able to see his face or his name tag.
“His name is Troy?”
Even Seila, who prided herself on being a veteran of That Girl and That Guy, had never heard that name before.
Both the name and the face were utterly unfamiliar.
“Black hair and black eyes aren’t exactly common either.”
If he were a supporting character with that kind of appearance, she would at least remember his face—but she didn’t. Not even a flicker of recognition.
A supporting character who had never appeared in any of the routes.
“If he managed to survive until the final four, that means he’s actually quite an important character…”
“Seila, I—I’m scared,” someone whimpered beside her.
“…Maybe not?”
Then again, looking at Dorfina, it seemed luck alone could sometimes be enough to stay alive.
“I don’t know.”
Troy started walking toward Seila. He had apparently chosen her as his next opponent.
Seila swallowed hard.
“Dangerous.”
Her chest felt tight—like the air itself was suffocating her.
She didn’t know why, but she felt as if a constant, approaching threat of death were drawing near.
Her heart pounded, her vision swayed—but she didn’t let it show.
Seila raised her right hand.
“I forfeit.”
The students blinked in surprise.
“Forfeit?”
“Why? Don’t tell me she chickened out?”
“Are you blind? Look at that face and aura. Does that look like someone who’s scared?”
As always, Seila carried herself with dignity and composure.
Thanks to her aura and beauty, no one thought she’d backed down out of fear.
“Guess she’s acknowledging the limits of her background.”
“It’d be weird if someone from Dvernon became the swordsmanship class representative anyway.”
“Maybe she’s being strategic—giving up this semester’s title on purpose.”
Then Hamyun stomped forward toward Troy.
Muttering under his breath, so quietly no one else could hear:
“You’re dead.”
How dare he glare at Seila?
There was madness flickering in Hamyun’s clear eyes.
Until moments ago, that madness had burned brightly—but as soon as he faced Troy, his eyes grew calm.
“What the hell… is this guy?”
This kid who had barely any presence until now.
He’d never even heard the name before.
Yet standing across from him now, sword in hand, Hamyun felt as though he were facing an enormous wall.
“He’s strong.”
And that made him even angrier.
Someone hiding that much power dared to look at Seila like that?
“If he were weak, I was going to punish him hard. If he’s strong, I’ll just beat him into the ground.”
“…”
The duel between Hamyun and Troy began.
Ordinary students couldn’t even follow their movements.
Steel clashed against steel, sparks flying with every impact.
Whenever Hamyun tried to widen the distance, Troy closed it perfectly; their blades weaved around each other, always aiming for vital spots.
“Whoa… He’s fighting evenly with Hamyun?”
“Was there really such a strong student here?”
At that point, the most confused person was Seila.
“There’s no character named Troy!”
A supporting character skilled enough to go toe-to-toe with Hamyun—she would’ve remembered him, no matter how minor his role.
At the very least, his face.
“He’s an extra who suddenly appeared out of nowhere.”
She had felt it from the very first moment she saw him slumped over his desk in the corner of the classroom.
“Why do I feel so uneasy whenever I see him?”
She’d thought it was her imagination—but it wasn’t.
Every time she looked at Troy, a sense of impending doom washed over her.
“It’s like… if the ‘constant threat of death’ took human form, it would feel exactly like this.”
It might’ve been rude to think that way about a person, but Seila couldn’t help it.
The duel between Hamyun and Troy continued without either side yielding. Both had small cuts near their necks.
Then Troy suddenly raised both hands.
“I lose.”
“…”
Hamyun bit his lip.
“If we’d kept going, I would’ve lost. He must’ve realized that too.”
Then why surrender now?
Something about it was off.
Without much expression, Troy said:
“I can’t afford to get injured.”
“…What?”
“I have to preserve my strength.”
Troy’s gaze turned toward Seila.
His eyes were emotionless—but Seila felt them stick to her like tar. It was like being caught in a trap.
“Because there’s someone I need to eliminate.”
Seila’s whole body froze, her heart plummeting in her chest.
“Forget what happened today. I lost to Hamyun.”
And then something truly bizarre happened.
Not only Hamyun, but every student who had watched the duel—forgot.
“Oh, Troy? Yeah, he was lucky to survive until Hamyun crushed him.”
“Of course he couldn’t beat Hamyun.”
The only person who still remembered the truth—was Seila.
Seila lay on her bed, clutching her pounding heart.
“Because there’s someone I need to eliminate.”
He had definitely been talking about her.
“The constant threat of death… it really is him.”
There was no other explanation.
“A character that didn’t originally exist has appeared—to kill me.”
She had hoped this world didn’t have that cursed law of narrative preservation—
—but it seemed that even this world followed it.
“At least he seems cautious… that’s something.”
That was the only comfort—he wasn’t coming at her shouting, ‘I’ll kill you!’ and attacking recklessly.
Just then, Dorfina entered the room holding a vanilla ice cream cone.
“Seila!”
“…”
“Tribute.”
In the outside world, an ice cream like that would be nothing—but here, it was a treasure.
“Where did you get this?”
“Professor Neipin gave it to me as a reward for surviving until the final two.”
As expected from the professor who taught survival techniques—he must’ve given bonus points for managing to stay alive.
Seila, whose mind had been tangled with dark thoughts, couldn’t help but laugh a little.
Now that she thought about it, Dorfina had survived until the final two.
She’d even almost beaten Hamyun.
It was ridiculous—
“Y-you—you can’t attack me! You can’t! I—I’m Seila’s friend!”
That absurd threat had worked surprisingly well.
Hamyun had actually hesitated for a while, unable to attack her.
He’d even wondered whether he should just surrender.
In the end, Dorfina had surrendered first out of fear, but still—the fact that she’d made it to the final two was impressive.
“Yeah. Amazing, really. This world never stops surprising me.”
Somehow, Seila’s heart began to feel lighter.
Even Dorfina, with zero combat ability, had survived to the end.
“Right. In a world like this, anything’s possible.”
No amount of overthinking would change anything.
If even someone like Dorfina could become one of the last two standing, then there had to be plenty of ways for Seila to survive Troy’s deadly grasp.
“Thanks, Dorfina.”
Seila accepted the ice cream.
“Hehe. Just watching you eat makes me happy.”
Dorfina sat beside her, resting her chin on her hands as she gazed up at Seila.
Seila suddenly noticed something.
“Wait… did you get taller? Your eyes are level with mine now. You were shorter not too long ago—did you really grow that much already?”
In the swordsmanship class, first-year student Perbeck clenched his fists.
“You said you could beat Seila if not Hamyun, right?”
“Damn it, I only lost because I was exhausted back then!”
Perbeck genuinely believed that.
If he had faced Seila in a proper condition, he was sure he wouldn’t have lost.
“You were completely overwhelmed, though?”
“I told you—I was tired! And caught off guard, too!”
In truth, that confidence came because he had been defeated so completely.
He hadn’t even been able to try any of the strategies he’d prepared for facing Seila.
One moment he blinked—and her wooden sword was already pressed against his throat.
The duel had ended so fast, he couldn’t even feel the difference in skill.
“Just wait. I’ll challenge Seila to a one-on-one duel soon.”
“Well, with your skills, I guess you could hold your own against her.”
Perbeck was indeed a talented student.
Seeing his confidence, a few classmates even started thinking, Maybe he really is stronger than Seila?
The next day, Professor Rhyno gave the class a practical assignment.
“We’ll bundle this straw into scarecrow forms.”
A huge pile of straw filled the corner of the classroom.
“It’s a special kind of straw—it’ll stand upright once assembled.”
Professor Rhyno set one up and swung his sword lightly.
With almost no resistance, the scarecrow was cleanly sliced in half.
“Your goal for the next three hours is to cut them like this. Of course, you’ll make your own scarecrows first.”
“Professor, what does making and cutting scarecrows have to do with a swordsman’s basic character?”
The professor in charge of “character education” gave a curt reply:
“When a professor tells you to do something, just say ‘yes, sir,’ and do it.”
