RHEIN'S POINT OF VIEW
After the final notes of the ball faded and the enchanted evening drew to a close, Dylan stepped forward with an announcement. His voice carried through the hall, calm yet commanding.
"Starting tomorrow," he declared, "three hours every afternoon will be devoted to training. Attendance is mandatory."
He didn't say what the training was for, and I knew why. If the students caught wind of the looming war, panic would spread before we could prepare. Instead, Dylan kept it simple—earnest. "Take it seriously. Give it your best."
The next afternoon, the gymnasium buzzed with energy as training began. Students lined up, pairs sparring, others practicing spells under watchful eyes. The weight of responsibility hung in the air, even if most of them didn't realize it.
I had barely finished stretching when Justin appeared beside me, casual as always.
"Come on," he said, nudging me lightly with his elbow. "Help me grab some juice for the SC officers before they drop dead from exhaustion."
I followed him toward the vending machines, grateful for a small break. As the cans clinked into the tray, he glanced at me with that unreadable calmness of his.
"No new information," he admitted after a pause. "The Deorcanen Clan has gone quiet. Too quiet, maybe."
I nodded, but my thoughts felt scattered, floating somewhere else. My silence must have given me away, because Justin chuckled softly.
"You don't have to look so stiff," he teased. Then, his eyes softened, and his voice lowered. "Don't worry. I'm not asking you to like me back. Or to give me an answer. I just… confessed. That's all."
His honesty caught me off guard. My chest tightened—not with affection, but with a guilt I didn't quite know how to name.
When we returned to the gymnasium, I froze mid-step. Across the floor, Dylan was laughing—brightly, openly—as he guided a younger student through a series of movements. His hand hovered over hers, adjusting her stance, his expression warmer than I'd ever seen in council meetings or strategy sessions.
And something inside me… twisted.
It was sharp and unfamiliar, a tiny ache I didn't want to acknowledge. Why did it sting to see him smile like that—at someone else?
Justin must have noticed the way I stalled, my gaze lingering too long. He tilted his head, following my line of sight. Then, with a sly grin, he stepped closer and slung an arm over my shoulder, the movement deliberately casual.
"Looks like someone's enjoying himself," Justin murmured, amusement lacing his words. Then, louder, with a teasing lilt: "Let me help you out, Princess. If he's trying to make you jealous, at least you'll look sweet with me."
I laughed nervously, trying to brush it off, though my pulse was still unsteady.
Justin smirked knowingly. "I was right all along. It's him, isn't it?"
Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Sorry, Justin…" My voice was small, my throat tight.
But he only shook his head, his smile gentler now. "Don't feel pity for me. I'm fine. Really. I understand."
His words were sincere, but they lingered in my chest like an echo I couldn't shake.
DYLAN'S POINT OF VIEW
I stopped mid-sentence, my hand still raised as I was about to correct the student's stance. My eyes had drifted across the gym, unbidden, and landed on them.
Rhein.
She was walking beside Justin, the two of them laughing over something trivial, her shoulders relaxed in a way I hadn't seen all week. And then—his arm.
Justin's arm draped over her like it belonged there.
A muscle in my jaw tightened. I forced myself to breathe evenly, my expression schooled into neutrality, but the serious weight in my chest gave me away to myself.
What was I even doing?
I looked back at the student in front of me. She blinked up at me, waiting for the next instruction, clearly sensing my sudden distraction. I muttered something about balance and corrected her posture, but my focus had already unraveled.
My eyes betrayed me again, flicking toward Rhein. She laughed at something Justin whispered, the sound carrying faintly across the gym. My hands curled into fists at my sides before I caught myself.
It shouldn't matter.
It really shouldn't.
But the sight burned, as though Justin's arm was a brand pressed into her shoulder, mocking me.
I tried to turn back fully to the training session, to the work that always steadied me, but the weight in my chest only grew heavier. The truth was undeniable, even if I refused to say it aloud:
I wanted that laugh directed at me.
I wanted to be the one beside her, not standing across the gym, watching like some outsider.
The student shifted awkwardly under my silence. I forced a small nod, correcting her stance again, all the while feeling the storm brewing inside me.
And when my gaze betrayed me a third time—landing once more on Rhein—I caught it. That tiny hesitation in her smile, as though she could feel my stare even across the distance.
RHEIN'S POINT OF VIEW
It's the second day of training.
The gymnasium buzzed with energy. The air was thick with the sound of clashing practice weapons, bursts of magic, and the constant shuffle of feet against polished floors. It was chaos, but the kind of chaos that meant progress.
As Student Council officers, it was our duty to guide the others. Each of us took charge of groups based on our own strengths.
I found myself side by side with Justin, the two of us leading the ofris mnarillazas. Since we were both ofris mnarillazas before, it only made sense. We moved among the students, correcting stances, refining their forms, and demonstrating how to draw out more efficiency from their mnarill. It wasn't easy work—some pushed themselves too hard, others hesitated too much—but I could see them improving, little by little.
Forelody, ever diligent, had herself led the praciens of the students, guiding them with that sharp, knowing gaze of hers. She corrected their wing movements with quick chirps of disapproval, forcing them to repeat until their timing was perfect. I couldn't help but smile—she might be my partner, but when it came to training, she's merciless.
Even the academy's instructors had joined us. Their voices rose above the din, offering corrections, encouragement, sometimes stern reprimands. The scene was almost inspiring—every corner of the gym alive with determination.
And yet… my attention kept slipping.
Every so often, my gaze wandered toward the far side of the gymnasium. Toward him.
Dylan.
He stood taller than most of the students surrounding him, his presence commanding even when he wasn't trying to. His group was smaller—limited, really—because his training was different.
He is a meithi mnarillaza, the only one in the entire academy… the only one in all of Mnarra. That uniqueness set him apart, in ways I doubted even he fully embraced.
He couldn't train others the way Justin and I could. No one else shared his type, his abilities. The best he could do was guide the students who leaned toward raw physical strength, showing them how to push their bodies further, how to use endurance and agility when magic wasn't enough.
But most of those who surrounded him… were girls.
Girls who hung on his every word.
Girls whose eyes sparkled with admiration every time he demonstrated a move.
Girls who giggled when his gaze swept over them, who stood straighter just to catch his attention.
I felt my stomach twist with something uncomfortably sharp. Sadness, maybe. Or something dangerously close to it.
The realization tugged at my chest. It wasn't fair.
For a moment, my eyes lingered too long. His profile was outlined in the glow of the training lamps, his expression focused, serious. Then, as though sensing my stare, his gaze flicked up—straight to me.
My breath hitched.
I quickly looked away, pretending to correct a student's form, my cheeks warming despite myself. But even as I forced my attention back to the training in front of me, I could still feel it—his eyes, lingering across the distance, watching me in return.