Without realizing it, Alice's eyes began to follow Echi's movements.
The ideal swordsmanship she had spent years chasing was unfolding right before her. She could only block, reflexively, watching, just as Echinacea had responded during their first duel.
Then Echi's swordsmanship quietly shifted. Alice caught it immediately, even through her daze.
Echinacea was replicating the exact sequence Alice had used in that duel.
A feint at the neck, a pull-back, an overhead slash, a deflection at the moment of collision, a downward glide, a thrust aimed at the calf.
A cold chill ran down her spine. The strength went out of her grip. Losing grip mid-clash was a critical mistake. Alice's sword flew from her hand and skittered across the grass.
Alice stared at where her sword had been, as if her soul had briefly left her body. Echi lowered her blade, walked to where the sword had fallen, picked it up, and held it out.
"Shall we continue?"
"Just now, what was, how did you... what was that?"
"So, not continuing?"
Echi's expression was entirely unbothered. Inwardly, she watched Alice's reaction with care.
If Alice had been like Brad, she would have erupted in anger. If she had no eye for swordsmanship, she might not have understood what had just happened. If she didn't treat the sword with genuine seriousness, her wounded pride might have drowned out everything else.
And if she hadn't believed she could catch up, despair would have swallowed the curiosity. If her character were smaller, she would have collapsed under the weight of inferiority.
Alice was none of those things. She took the sword from Echi's outstretched hand, eyes wide, hand trembling.
"Again. Please, show me again."
Echi said nothing and simply raised her sword. She attacked in the same sequence, just as Alice had fought, and then again, each repetition a fraction more refined. Alice tried to block differently each time.
She dropped the sword several more times. Each time, Echi waited; Alice snatched it up and reset her stance.
The session continued without a word spoken between them.
By the time the sun had begun to descend, Echi lowered her sword.
"Well done, Miss Winterbell."
Alice was drenched, her shoulders heaving. Echi was also perspiring, she had deliberately held back her mana, relying only on swordsmanship.
As she picked up the scabbard she had dropped and sheathed her blade, Alice stood with the expression of someone still half-inside a dream. It wasn't until Echi started walking away that Alice came back to herself.
"Miss Roaz!"
"Yes, Miss Winterbell?"
"Just now... you... to me..."
Alice stumbled over the words. Echi waited a moment, then answered simply.
"We sparred."
"What?"
"It was just a spar between cadets. That happens here, doesn't it?"
At the casual response, something in Alice's expression shifted. When she spoke again, her voice was steady.
"I am not a fool."
The faint tremor beneath the steadiness gave her away. Had it not been for Echinacea Roaz, she would have been this year's top-ranked cadet. And it was precisely because she was so exceptional that she could see clearly.
Echinacea had given her something.
She had shown Alice, repeatedly, patiently, without saying a single word, the form she needed to reach.
The swordsmanship that mirrored her own, but perfected. As if someone had taken her by the hand and walked her forward.
The afterimage was gone. Because a stronger image had replaced it.
Throughout the session, Echinacea had said nothing. And yet Alice felt as though she had been spoken to the entire time. Not through her ears, but through her body and her eyes.
'If you move like this, you'll improve. This suits you better. Raising your elbow here changes the force of the blow. Change the angle just slightly and the cut becomes sharper.'
'Your sword can grow stronger. There's no need to hesitate. This is how.'
Knowing how rare this kind of guidance was, Alice struggled to find words.
"Miss Roaz… You... to me..."
"I didn't do anything."
Echi cut her off, wiped the sweat from her temple with the back of her hand, and pressed the point.
"I didn't do anything. We sparred. That's all."
"…You didn't do anything?"
"That's right. Sorry for interrupting your training. I'm going to wash up. I'll use the bathroom first."
Echi looked at the sweat on her gloves with mild distaste and turned away without another word. Alice stood there, too stunned to even retrieve her jacket from the branch.
"Roaz. I mean. Are you serious? That was just a spar to you?"
"A spar is a spar. Is there something else?"
"…You're saying my swordsmanship will be completely different after this?"
"What does that have to do with me? That would be the result of your own effort, Miss Winterbell."
"No. It's because of you."
Alice said it plainly, her gaze direct.
The way she looked at Echi had changed, a strange brightness in her eyes that hadn't been there before.
What Echi had intended was simple: replace the afterimage lodged in Alice's body with a stronger one, drawn from her own swordsmanship.
She had expected irritation, at minimum. Discomfort. Alice wasn't the kind of person to accept anything gracefully from the woman who had beaten her.
"Thank you, Miss Roaz."
That was the last thing she had expected. Echi looked away immediately, and said coldly:
"I didn't do anything that warrants thanks. We sparred."
Alice looked at her, and then smiled.
"I understand. I'll let it go, then."
That smile made Echi's face feel hot. Walking beside her with that gleaming look was somehow worse than actual criticism. She snapped:
"Would you walk a little further back, Miss Winterbell?"
"Hm?"
"You smell of sweat."
"…You do too, Miss Roaz."
"I know, which is why I said I'm going to wash up first. I said it first."
"Alright. Go ahead."
Even though Echi's words were pointed, Alice kept smiling.
Genuinely happy. The bright look never quite left her eyes for the length of the forest path.
As they walked down the narrow trail through the fir trees, Alice murmured to herself.
"I've been misunderstanding you, Miss Roaz."
"Whatever you think, it's probably not a misunderstanding."
"I was swayed by appearances. I let prejudice in where it had no business. I thought you had no serious interest in swords or the path of a knight, and the duel just now showed me how wrong I was. I'm sorry for judging you by something so trivial."
It was a sincere apology. Echi felt goosebumps and shook her head firmly.
"You weren't wrong, Miss Winterbell. I genuinely don't like swords."
"Yes, I understand. I'll let that go too."
Alice's expression remained clear. That calm, straightforward honesty made Echi lose her words completely. She turned away before it could get any worse.
Before she turned twenty, the only people she had ever been close to were her family and Nicole. The years after that had been nothing but grudges and grim utility.
This, this clean, uncomplicated warmth from someone who had attached it to a misconception, was something she didn't know how to hold.
She would have found it easier if Alice disliked her. She could have handled that. The problem was the strange heat rising in her chest.
She walked quickly ahead. The moment she reached the dormitory, she escaped into the bathroom.
Alice, who had opened the door first, stepped aside to let her through, and did her very best not to smile until the bathroom door was safely shut.
* * *
The next morning, Echi woke to a body that had opinions about the previous day.
[Why didn't you use mana?]
Alice had been gone since early morning, fully absorbed in what she'd taken from the session yesterday.
Echi raised one hand from under the covers. When she removed her gloves, blisters were visible across her palm. She let out a long sigh.
"Ugh. Alice Winterbell is too earnest."
[Did you forget that your body isn't what it used to be?]
"I know. It's the same when I use mana."
[You didn't use it yesterday.]
"I got caught up in it."
Her body was wrong in a way that was difficult to ignore. Her technique and instincts were far beyond what her physical state could actually support, and without mana, the gap showed the morning after.
Every muscle ached. When she pressed a hand to her forehead, a slight fever had crept in.
Echi put her gloves back on and sat up with a groan.
"Ugh."
[Idiot.]
"Shut up, you useless sword."
She climbed out of bed, grumbling, and noticed the tray on the table.
The room had two sides, two beds, two desks, two wardrobes, with a shared table and chairs in the center, bookshelves, a sofa, a rug. A curtain could be drawn between the spaces for privacy.
As she pushed the curtain aside to reach the bathroom, she stopped.
On the table sat a tray. Soup in a covered bowl, bread, a salad, a cup of something warm, breakfast, clearly carried up from the communal dining hall.