Chapter 4: Human Nature [1]
"Ugh..."
Ilya crashed onto his back with a heavy thud as another clean strike ended the sparring match.
An ache spread through his ribs as he lay there for a few seconds, staring blankly at the sky before slowly sitting up.
Around the training grounds, several students simply shook their heads, having long since grown accustomed to seeing the younger Belozersky lose.
The instructor let out a weary sigh before motioning for Ilya to stand.
"Your swordsmanship is refined," he said. "Your posture is disciplined, your footwork is solid, and your fundamentals are honestly better than those of most students in this class. You’ve clearly spent countless hours drilling the basics, and I can tell you haven’t neglected your training for even a single day."
Ilya quietly brushed the dirt from his uniform without saying a word.
"But that’s exactly where the problem lies. Everything you do is technically correct, yet nothing feels natural. Every movement looks as though you’re recalling it from memory, and by the time you’ve chosen the correct technique, your opponent has already acted."
The instructor stepped forward and picked up Ilya’s wooden sword before handing it back to him.
"You can’t consciously calculate every step in the middle of a fight. Combat happens too quickly for that. By the time your mind reaches an answer, the opportunity has already disappeared."
It wasn’t the first time Ilya had heard those words.
Every instructor who had ever taught him eventually reached the same conclusion, regardless of how differently they explained it.
He had spent years trying to correct the flaw, forcing himself to react faster, practicing countless scenarios, and memorizing every possible response he could think of.
The problem was that swordsmanship wasn’t a subject with fixed answers.
Every duel was different and demanded creativity, intuition, and split-second judgment that simply couldn’t be memorized.
While other students naturally adapted to unexpected situations and invented new combinations on the spot, Ilya found himself instinctively searching for the textbook solution, and real battles rarely followed textbooks.
It wasn’t a lack of diligence that held him back, but a lack of instinct, the innate ability to transform knowledge into something fluid and unpredictable.
Talent.
It was a wall he had never managed to climb.
No one could accuse Ilya of slacking.
Before sunrise, he was already on the training grounds practicing his forms until the skin on his palms split open.
Moreover, even long after everyone else had retired for the evening, he remained, repeating the same swings thousands of times until his shoulders became too numb to lift the sword.
His body was riddled with scars from training more than many students who actually excelled, yet despite all that effort, the gap between him and those blessed with natural talent only seemed to widen with every passing year.
"If determination alone decided a knight’s worth, you’d probably stand at the very top of this academy."
"...."
"Unfortunately, battles are not won by those who know the most techniques, but by those who can create something new the instant their opponent does something unexpected."
Because real combat never had a script to follow.
"That sort of instinct cannot simply be taught through lectures or drills, but it is something we’ve been trying to cultivate in you ever since you enrolled."
"Thank you for your guidance, sir."
Ilya gave a respectful bow before turning to leave the training grounds.
Before he could take more than a few steps, however, the instructor’s voice stopped him once again.
"Ilya."
Ilya paused and glanced back.
"Regardless of the rumors, I know you’re a good kid at heart," the instructor said. "But just an advice. I think you should stop surrounding yourself with the wrong crowd before they drag you down with them."
"...."
Ilya remained silent for several moments.
Eventually, he turned around completely and offered the instructor a small, polite smile.
"I believe that the people I choose to associate with are none of your concern, sir."
"...."
The instructor frowned, disappointed by the response but not particularly surprised.
"Perhaps not," the instructor said. "But people will judge you by the company you keep, regardless of whether those judgments are fair. You’re already fighting an uphill battle, Ilya. You don’t need to make that climb any steeper."
"I’ll keep that in mind."
Whether he truly intended to or not was impossible to tell.
* * *
To most students, they looked like nothing more than a group of spoiled noble delinquents.
They skipped the occasional lecture, smoked behind the academy buildings, and had little interest in maintaining the dignified image expected of children from prestigious families.
Naturally, the academy’s gossip had already painted them as a bad influence, and anyone seen with them was quickly judged to be no different.
The reality, however, was far less dramatic.
If they had truly been a liability, Ilya would never have associated with them in the first place.
Ignoring the rumors, they were nothing more than young nobles who had failed to become the heirs their families had envisioned.
Rather than spending every waking hour pursuing expectations they could never fulfill, each of them had eventually found something else to devote themselves to that belonged to them rather than their family name.
They weren’t running away from responsibility as much as they were searching for a place where they could simply exist as themselves.
One had taken up painting, another found peace spending entire afternoons fishing, while the others immersed themselves in collecting fine tobacco, handcrafted pipes, or other seemingly trivial pastimes.
The cigarettes were never the purpose of their gatherings, nor were they trying to cultivate the image of rebellious aristocrats.
They simply needed an excuse to meet somewhere away from judgment, where, for a little while, they could forget the burdens attached to the noble surnames they had been born with.
"So... how many bones this time?"
"None," Ilya replied. "Just bruises."
"Tsk. You’re getting better."
"I wouldn’t go that far."
"Pfft—"
A round of laughter spread through the group.
There was no mockery or malice in it, and certainly none of the ridicule he endured within the Knight Department.
Unlike everyone else, they never questioned the choices he made. None of them asked why he continued forcing himself through swordsmanship classes despite lacking the talent for it, nor did they tell him to give up simply because everyone else already had.
Perhaps it was because they had all experienced the crushing weight of expectations in one form or another, making it unnecessary to explain what words alone never could.
"By the way, Ilya..." one of the noble girls spoke up, idly twirling the cigarette between her fingers before looking at him. "I’m not sure whether I should even bring this up, but I figured you deserved to know."
"Hm?"
"This morning, your sister came to see me. Well... not just me. She spoke to a few of us."
"...."
"She told us we should stay away from you. According to her, we’re filling your head with ridiculous ideas and encouraging you to throw your future away."
"...."
"Any idea what she was talking about?"
Ilya stared at the cigarette between his fingers for a few moments before letting out an amused chuckle.
"Ah... we had an argument last night. I told her I was planning on transferring to the Magic Department."
The words landed like a bomb.
One of the boys blinked twice before nearly dropping the cigarette hanging from his lips.
"...Seriously?"
"Yup."
A moment of silence followed as everyone stared at him, each wearing the same expression of disbelief.
Eventually, one of the girls, who happened to belong to the Magic Department, leaned forward with an incredulous look on her face.
"Wait, hold on," she said, raising a hand. "What brought this on? Magic? Since when were you interested in magic?"
"I wasn’t."
"Then why?" she asked, sounding even more confused. "Do you even know how magic works? Mana circulation, spell theory, elemental affinities, magical equations... those aren’t things you can just pick up overnight. You’re already behind everyone in the department by years."
"I know."
The girl frowned. "Then why are you smiling?"
Ilya looked at the cigarette one last time before crushing it under his heel.
"Because it might make a difference?"
"You really are strange."
The girl let out a small laugh.
"Well, if you’re really dead set on transferring, I don’t mind helping a little. I’m pretty confident when it comes to magical theory, so I can lend you my notes or explain the basics if you get stuck."
She crossed her arms and thought for a moment.
"As for practical magic... you’re on your own there. Unless you have someone willing to personally teach you, you’ll be playing catch-up for quite a while."
"That alone would help more than enough."
"Hehe~" she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Besides, watching a knight suddenly wander into the Magic Department sounds far too entertaining to miss. I might as well make sure you don’t completely embarrass yourself on your first day."
"Ha! Don’t listen to her, Ilya," one of the boys cut in with a grin. "I’d make a much better teacher than Angela. Listen, just last week, she was asking one of the senior assistants where first-years usually study because she was wondering where she could ’accidentally’ run into some of them—"
Before he could finish, the girl sitting beside him immediately clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Read the room for once, you damned oaf."
"Mmph! Mmph!"
The boy desperately tried to pry her hand away.
Angela’s face flushed crimson.
"W-What nonsense are you spouting?! I was asking because the library gets crowded during examination season!
"Oh?" another girl chimed in with a mischievous smile. "Is that why you suddenly volunteered to tutor Ilya before anyone else even had the chance?"
"T-That’s completely different!"
"Really? It sounded an awful lot like someone trying to score a few points."
"Shut up!"
Laughter echoed throughout the group.
Ilya merely watched the exchange in silence, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.
For people the academy dismissed as troublesome delinquents, they laughed far more openly than most noble students ever dared.
They were all failures in one way or another.
Yet when enough failures gathered together, they somehow managed to become each other’s greatest source of support.
* * *
Another day passed, yet Vera never appeared.
After waiting far longer than he probably should have, Ilya eventually gave up and returned to the academy, unable to shake the thought that perhaps the entire encounter had been nothing more than a strange hallucination.
She had appeared and disappeared just as suddenly, and left behind nothing but questions, as fleeting and insubstantial as a snowflake caught in the wind.
Even so, the following day found him standing at the same bridge once again.
"Ah... you’re still here."
Ilya turned to find Vera leisurely making her way across the bridge.
Her pitch-black hair swayed gently with the breeze, while her crimson eyes met his.
"I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me."
"Not at all," Vera replied with a smile. "I simply had work to do. Teaching assistants don’t have the luxury of disappearing whenever they feel like it."
"Right."
Vera glanced up at the sky before letting out a small sigh, as though mentally running through the rest of her schedule.
"Unfortunately, I don’t have much time today either," she said. "I’ve still got a mountain of things waiting for me once I get home, so I can’t afford to stay around the academy for very long."
She paused for a moment before casually adding another suggestion.
"Although... if you’d like, we could continue our conversation at my place instead."
"...?"
"There is one condition, though."
"Hm?"
"You’re buying dinner for both of us."
"Aren’t you supposed to cook for a guest you invited?"
"You’re the one who needs something from me, not the other way around. I think it’s only fair that you sacrifice a little of your monthly allowance."
"So this is your consultation fee?"
"Dinner is significantly cheaper."
"I suppose that’s true."
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