The walk from the Arena Quad to the administrative dorms was completed in a tense silence, heavier than the Mana Kenta Shiraishi had summoned. When they reached the single room—a spacious, high-class two-person unit—Ryuko slid the door open and allowed the two girls to precede him, observing the unwritten rule of entering any private space.
Ryuko headed straight to his designated side of the room. He pulled out a drawer beneath his impeccably neat, high-gloss synthetic desk, retrieving a Rubik's Cube which he immediately began turning with subtle, practiced movements, the rhythmic click of the plastic pieces loud in the sudden quiet.
"Okay," Ryuko said, his eyes focused entirely on the puzzle. "Since there are only two beds in here—standard bunk beds for a two-person unit—Princess, you and Rin can have them."
Rin, whose hostility hadn't dimmed, narrowed her eyes. "What is the catch, you low-ranked coward? Are you plotting to steal our belongings while we sleep?"
Ryuko politely paused his cubing to meet her gaze. "No catch, Miss Rin. Besides, I don't really sleep early anyway." He stood up and walked toward the high-backed sofa in the common area. He pulled the cushions and expertly transformed the sofa into a serviceable, flat bed.
"I have a backup plan," he finished, indicating the newly formed cot.
Eilona and Rin watched him with unconcealed confusion, wondering why he would so easily surrender the actual beds, and why he even needed a backup plan.
Ryuko then collected a clean white T-shirt and a pair of gray bottoms from his locker. He walked toward the rear of the room, pausing before the private bathroom door.
"Well, you girls can make yourselves comfortable," he said, turning the knob. "I'm going to grab a quick shower, if you'll excuse me."
He walked in and closed the door with a soft click, leaving the S-Rank Princess and her A-Rank Maid Knight utterly alone and confused in the room they had challenged him for.
The heavy click of the bathroom door sealed the silence. Rin immediately moved to the desk, her dagger hand still twitching beneath the sleeve of her blazer, while Eilona slowly lowered herself onto one of the beds, her expression drawn.
"He... that man is insufferable," Eilona muttered, staring at the closed door. "Giving us his bed as if he's doing us a favor. Is he trying to imply that our presence is an inconvenience to his routine?"
Rin ignored the petulance, her voice dropping to a low, tactical whisper. "The room is irrelevant, Your Highness. We need to discuss what we witnessed on the quad." She tapped her fingers lightly on the desk, the sound quick and sharp. "He is an anomaly. Six armed opponents, all higher rank, and he defeated them without summoning a weapon or using a single burst of Mana."
Eilona nodded, pushing herself off the bed. Her vanity dissolved instantly, giving way to the cold clarity of a Solarian warrior. "His movement. That Ghost Step—it wasn't just fast; it was surgical. He used their own attacks against them, making their Divine Artifacts nothing more than leverage."
"Precisely," Rin confirmed, a dangerous gleam entering her eyes. "That means a straightforward battle of Mana and power is a gamble. We must contain him immediately. This is where my Spatial Magic will be useful."
Rin turned to Eilona, her plan already forming. "If we trap him quickly—a momentary, localized spatial cage to lock his movements—and you use your flames, Princess, we can secure a victory before he can utilize that inhuman physical mastery."
She drew a stabilizing breath. "But even if we fail to trap him, he cannot stop you. Your S-Rank power and the sheer output of the Imperial Flare will crush him. It is purely a matter of overwhelming force."
Eilona looked at the closed bathroom door, a deep crease forming between her brows.
Rin's logic was sound; raw Mana should always defeat mere speed. Yet, the Princess felt a knot of unease.
I hope you're right, Rin, Eilona thought. I could tell his Mana was surprisingly low, matching his nominal B-Rank status, but still, I can't shake off this feeling. That placid, unbothered expression on his face as he took down six Mage Knights felt less like courage and more like absolute certainty.
In the sterile confines of the high-class bathroom, Ryuko stood before the mirror, letting the heat of the running water steam the glass. He closed his eyes and ran a hand across the faint sting on his cheek. The slaps didn't hurt; the administrative headache did.
It was supposed to be easy, he thought. Get the room, stay B-Rank, keep the heat off. His mother, Widow Sayagusa, had pulled the perfect strings for a quiet life: a mid-tier rank, a two-person room, and zero political entanglements. It was the perfect cloak.
Now, thanks to one administrative mix-up, he was slated for a 2v1 public spectacle. The stakes had been twisted. It wasn't about a room anymore; it was about proving he could contain and control the most volatile elements the Academy threw at him.
He knew what Rin and Eilona were calculating out there. They were running the numbers on the Mana gunner and the Ghost Step—calculating how much Imperial Flare it would take to burn a Zero down. They believed his rank was his weakness. His rank wasn't a weakness; it was a deliberate choice.
The problem wasn't winning; the problem was how much he had to expose to win.
A clean victory requires incapacitation, not destruction, he concluded. If he used Uramasa, the fallout would be immense. If he used too much of the Sayagusa technique —the raw physical kinetic force behind the Sayagusa Strike that shattered Kenta's wrist—he would draw the eyes of the people he was supposed to be avoiding. If he drew those eyes, he risked compromising the careful safety net he and his mother had spun for his younger sister, the true reason he was here.
If I lose, I move, and they control the space near me. Unacceptable.
He looked at his reflection. The dark eyes that stared back held no trace of the B-Rank washout Kenta saw. They were the eyes of a calculating warrior. He had to win to restore the quiet life, but he had to win small. He would utilize just enough speed and force to dismantle their Mana, leaving them confused, intact, and politically obligated to leave him alone. He would make the Maid Knight's Spatial Magic and the Princess's Imperial Flare irrelevant, one precise, invisible movement at a time.
He stripped his clothes, stepping under the shower. The steam quickly engulfed the mirror, but for a split second, before the glass completely fogged, he saw the faint, angry red marks still visible on his cheeks—a reminder of the morning's chaos.
Tomorrow, he resolved, letting the water run over his shoulders. The quiet life will be challenged, but it will not be broken. I'll make sure they don't even see the strings being cut.