The sound of a sword being drawn was quieter than one might think.
The moment someone died was usually the same.
Before the scream came a very brief silence.
And that silence had settled over the drawing room now.
Eveline Rosette drew her sword.
A ceremonial sword hanging at her waist.
It looked like the affectation of a noble lady, but it was no decoration.
A functional ceremonial blade made to demonstrate that the Rosette count’s family descended from a branch of northern swordsmen.
Light, fast, and highly conductive to mana.
There was only one fatal problem.
The person holding that sword was Eveline Rosette.
"I’ll make you regret this."
Eveline smiled.
Red mana flowed along the blade.
The maids sucked in breaths.
The butler quietly stepped half a pace back from the door.
It was a familiar movement.
He had probably stepped back just like that whenever the previous teachers got smashed to pieces.
I picked up my wooden sword.
A cheap wooden sword.
Poorly balanced.
It could withstand three heavy strikes.
On the fourth, it would break.
Knowing that actually made things easier.
A man who knew exactly how many cards he had to play did not bluff.
Her first move is a diagonal downward slash.
Weight shifted onto Eveline’s right foot.
Her left shoulder opened first.
Red mana leaped forward half a beat before her sword.
In the original story’s first run, Leon Cart blocked it head-on here.
The wooden sword broke, his wrist gave out, and Eveline laughed.
Then he was fired that very day.
A valuable lesson.
Never repeat something that gets you killed.
Boom!
Eveline’s sword came down.
I did not block.
I stepped half a pace inside her range.
The blade grazed past my shoulder and split the edge of the table.
A silver platter flew into the air.
One maid clapped a hand over her mouth, unable to hold back a scream.
"You dodged?"
Eveline’s eyes narrowed.
"If I block, the wooden sword will break."
"Is that something you should be worrying about?"
"Yes. It’s my property."
Silence.
The corner of Eveline’s mouth twitched.
She looked unsure whether she was angry or amused.
Good.
For the first time, her rhythm had faltered.
Eveline Rosette was used to people being frightened of her.
She was used to people flattering her, too.
But she was not used to someone worrying about the cost of repairing a wooden sword before worrying about her sword.
I needed that opening.
"Again."
This time, a thrust.
More precisely, a slash that looked like a thrust.
A signature Rosette feint.
A novice would watch the tip of the sword and step back.
Then the red mana would strike their side.
I did not step back.
With the pommel of my wooden sword, I pushed against the flat of her blade.
Clang!
The sound of metal and dull wood overlapped.
Her blade slid aside.
Eveline’s brows rose.
"You."
"Yes."
"Where did you see the Rosette sword style?"
I had seen it.
I had seen plenty.
Over seven playthroughs, I had read dozens of player forum posts from people Eveline Rosette had killed.
How do you get past your first encounter with Eveline?
How to avoid the spoon pattern from that red lunatic noble girl
Rosette Triple Blossom, isn’t this a bug?
Back then, it had been funny because it was someone else’s problem.
Now, I wanted to bow to the authors of those strategy guides.
But I could not say that.
So I put it differently.
"I have not seen the sword style."
"Then?"
"I watched your shoulders, my lady."
Eveline’s expression froze.
I pointed to her left shoulder.
"It opens before you slash. Before you thrust, your wrist stiffens first. And before you use mana, you hold your breath."
"..."
"Your body tells me where the sword will come from before the sword does."
The maids exchanged glances.
The butler’s expression changed, if only slightly.
Eveline said nothing for a moment.
Then she laughed.
"You sure act like you know everything."
Before she had even finished speaking, she came at me again.
This time, she was fast.
A frontal slash.
A leftward spin.
A mana explosion.
The Rosette Triple Blossom.
Eveline’s signature early-game pattern.
Anyone seeing it for the first time would be blown all the way to the wall by the third mana explosion.
Anyone who knew it had to move in on the second strike.
I deflected the first.
The wooden sword rang.
I ducked beneath the second.
The blade cut away a few strands of my hair.
The third.
Just before the red mana burst like flower petals.
I stepped forward.
Thud.
The pommel of my wooden sword pressed against the inside of Eveline’s wrist.
I had not struck her hard.
I had not broken anything.
I had merely pressed precisely on the point where she exerted force.
In that instant, Eveline’s sword tip wavered.
The red mana faltered in midair.
Boom!
The mana explosion struck the corner of the ceiling.
Plaster dust fell.
Eveline took a step back.
It was the first time.
The first time she had retreated of her own accord.
"Just now..."
"The third move is the weakest."
I did not lower my wooden sword.
"It is flashy, so everyone is fooled, but that is when your wrist is most vulnerable."
The smile vanished from Eveline’s face.
"Shut up."
"No."
"A commoner like you."
"That is the second time I have heard that."
"Do you know who I am?"
"Eveline Rosette."
I looked her directly in the eye.
"Someone who has never learned how to lose."
At that moment, the air in the drawing room changed.
The maids lowered their heads further.
The butler’s fingers stiffened slightly.
Eveline did not smile.
Her red eyes pierced straight through me.
"Say that again."
A dangerous line.
If I pressed any further, I would break her pride.
Then she would explode.
The first line of the Eveline Rosette strategy guide.
Wound her pride, but never deny her talent.
I lowered the tip of my wooden sword.
"You are not weak, my lady."
Eveline’s fingers stopped moving.
"If anything, you have too much talent. Your reactions are fast, your mana capacity is excellent, and you have an instinct for offense. Even if ten ordinary knight apprentices stood before you, none of them would move before you did."
"But?"
"That is why you are the worst."
Eveline’s brows rose again.
"What?"
"Because you are talented, no one ever corrected you."
I looked toward the drawing room wall.
The framed resignation letters.
The bloodstained handkerchief.
The empty third frame.
"Everyone either lost to you or let you win. They must have praised you. Said you were incredible. Said you were strong. Said the blood of House Rosette was magnificent."
"..."
"That is why you have never learned the sword."
I looked at her again.
"You have only learned the habit of winning."
Silence.
Rain tapped against the windows.
Eveline’s sword tip lowered ever so slightly.
In that brief moment, I saw it.
The crack hidden behind her anger.
Back in the original story, it had been setting information passed over in just a few lines.
Eveline Rosette had been called a prodigy from childhood.
Yet she had never once been sincerely corrected.
Viewed through the game, it was the backstory of a villainess.
Seeing it firsthand, it was, ironically, a failure of education.
Her parents neglected her.
The knights let her win.
The teachers ran away.
As a result, Eveline Rosette had lost even the means to confirm whether she was truly strong.
So she raged even more wildly.
Until her opponent fell.
Until someone truly looked at her.
"Don’t be ridiculous."
Eveline spoke quietly.
"You are saying I have never learned the sword?"
Red mana rose around her again.
This time, it was different.
It was closer to pain than anger.
A bad sign, and a good one.
The real lesson started here.
"Then prove it."
I adjusted my grip on the wooden sword.
"Prove whether what you learned was swordsmanship, or merely taking out your anger."
Eveline rushed in.
Fast.
Much faster than before.
Unrefined, but dangerous.
The blade aimed for my throat.
I took the first strike.
A crack formed in my wooden sword.
The second.
My side.
I deflected it.
The third.
A mana explosion.
This time, I did not step in.
Eveline remembered her earlier mistake, too.
She protected her wrist.
Good.
She was learning.
Learning even as she raged.
Girls like that were the truly frightening ones.
As I retreated, I checked the location of the empty frame on the wall.
Distance.
Angle.
Sword tip.
Wooden sword durability.
Remaining heavy collisions.
One.
Eveline drew in a breath.
Her left shoulder opened.
But this time, it was a feint.
The real target was below.
My ankle.
A modified pattern.
A change that had not existed in the original story.
A change created because I had interfered.
A chill ran down my spine.
Strategy knowledge was not absolute.
If I changed things, my opponent would change too.
I had grasped that obvious fact far too late.
I lowered my wooden sword.
Clack!
The ceremonial sword and wooden sword locked together.
The crack in my wooden sword deepened.
"Got you."
Eveline smiled.
Red mana surged down her blade.
If I took it head-on, the wooden sword would burst apart.
If I dodged, my ankle would be exposed.
One beat.
An incredibly brief beat.
I relaxed my wrist.
I let go of the wooden sword.
No.
I pretended to let go.
Eveline’s sword pushed aside the wooden sword that had gone limp in my grip.
At that moment, I spun it.
The warped center of gravity of a cheap wooden sword.
Normally, a flaw.
Now, an axis.
Smack!
The tip of the wooden sword struck beneath the hilt of Eveline’s sword.
It was not a powerful blow.
But the direction was exact.
Eveline’s fingers opened.
The sword flew away.
Whoosh!
The ceremonial sword cut through the air and embedded itself in the empty frame on the wall.
Crack.
The spot for the next teacher.
A crack spread across the golden plaque.
At the same time, my wooden sword split in half.
Thud.
The severed tip of the wooden sword fell onto the carpet.
The drawing room went quiet.
No one moved.
Not the maids.
Not the butler.
Not Eveline.
She looked down at her empty hand.
Like someone experiencing, for the first time, the disappearance of something from her grasp.
"...I."
Her voice was quiet.
"I dropped my sword?"
I looked down at the broken wooden sword.
It had been cheap, but it had done everything it needed to today.
"Yes."
Eveline’s face slowly reddened.
Anger.
Humiliation.
Confusion.
And a very slight fear.
Those who knew no defeat feared themselves in defeat more than they feared defeat itself.
If I pressed her now, it would all be ruined.
If I laughed at her, she would explode.
If I declared victory, her pride would break.
So there was only one thing to say.
I set down the broken wooden sword and spoke.
"That was not bad."
Eveline raised her head.
"What?"
"Your final move was good. It was different from before. You listened to me, protected your wrist, and aimed for my ankle."
"..."
"Just now, my lady, you used swordsmanship for the first time."
Eveline’s eyes trembled.
It was praise.
But it was not flattery.
If she could understand the difference, she could still be fixed.
I pointed to the sword in the wall.
"However, you lost."
Eveline’s face hardened again.
"If you want to know why you lost, attend my lessons from tomorrow onward."
"Why would I?"
"The academy entrance examination."
At those words, Eveline’s expression shifted faintly.
Just as I thought.
Eveline Rosette was not someone driven by pride alone.
Her greatest fear was not defeat.
It was being humiliated in an official setting.
Having it revealed, on a stage where her family’s name was at stake, that she was a fraud.
"At your current level, you will fail the second swordsmanship test."
"Liar."
"You will fail."
"Me?"
"Yes."
I did not look away from her eyes.
"You are strong. But the examiners are not maids, knight apprentices, or duel opponents who have been paid off."
Eveline’s hand trembled.
Just slightly.
"And truly strong people do not wield a sword the way you do."
For a long time, no one spoke.
Outside, rain fell.
Inside the drawing room, fragments of shattered teacups trembled ever so slightly in the lingering red mana.
A system window appeared.
Eveline Rosette’s first ruin condition has been delayed.
The probability of entering the duel-accident route has decreased by 3%.
Leon Cart’s projected survival date has been updated.
7 days -> 10 days
Only three days.
But my death had been pushed back by three days.
It was the first result I had achieved since coming to this world.
I let out a breath inwardly.
That was when it happened.
Eveline spoke in a low voice.
"Again."
I looked at her.
"What did you say?"
"I said let’s do it again."
She was staring at the sword embedded in the wall.
The rims of her eyes were red.
She was not crying.
But for the first time, an emotion other than anger had appeared on her face.
Humiliation.
Defiance.
And the faintest curiosity.
I lifted the broken wooden sword.
"The sword is broken."
Eveline clenched her teeth.
"Bring a new one."
The maids looked at one another.
The butler quietly bowed his head.
"I will have one prepared, my lady."
Eveline looked straight at me.
"Don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying I’ll take your lessons."
"Yes."
"I’m just checking whether you only won once by luck."
"Yes."
"And next time, I’ll make you kneel."
I nodded.
"Good."
"What’s good about that?"
"You have a lesson objective for the first time."
Eveline’s face twisted again.
But this time, she did not throw her sword.
I thought that was enough.
One final line appeared in the system window.
Eveline Rosette recognizes Leon Cart as a candidate for her private tutor.
A candidate.
Not yet a teacher, nor even an assistant.
Just a candidate.
But until yesterday, Leon Cart had been an extra destined to die in a week.
Today, I had earned three more days.
And Eveline Rosette had asked to do it again for the first time.
Inwardly, I recalled the second line of the strategy notes.
A villainess does not change just because you break her once.
You have to make her rise again on her own.
The first lesson was now over.
And the real hell would begin tomorrow.
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