Glory Cael Magic Academy Affiliated Hospital, third floor, private room.
Moonlight filtered through the clean glass window, casting a cold, silver glow across the polished floor.
The air was thick with the faint scent of disinfectant mixed with some kind of soothing herb.
Victoria Cecil sat propped up in her hospital bed, a white sheet covering her up to her waist. Thick bandages were wrapped around her bare right arm and shoulder, the dark stain of ointment visible at the edges.
Her long gray hair was draped somewhat messily over her shoulders. Her eyes, usually as sharp as a blade, were currently dull as she stared silently at the deep night outside the window.
Silvia sat uneasily in a chair by the bed, her hands clasped nervously in her lap, her pink eyes filled with concern.
She had been sitting with Victoria for nearly two hours. During that time, she had tried various topics—tomorrow's classes, the new dessert at the cafeteria, and even some trivial academy rumors.
However, Victoria's responses were mostly short, almost dismissive "mms" or "is that sos," or simply silence.
Silence stretched through the room once more.
Silvia bit her lower lip and finally gathered the courage to speak cautiously, her voice soft as if afraid of disturbing something.
"Victoria... um, about today's match..."
Victoria withdrew her gaze from the window and turned to her friend.
Her expression was calm—unnaturally so.
"It... it was just one match!"
Silvia said urgently, as if reciting a pre-prepared script.
"You really shouldn't worry about it! Her Highness Lilith... she started receiving top-tier instruction a long time ago, after all. And a high-level spell like Flame Burst, even a rudimentary version, has power that..."
She paused, realizing this sounded a bit like she was making excuses for the opponent, and quickly changed her tune.
"What I mean is, you did very, very well! Truly! Everyone saw it—your adaptability on the field and your use of magic... even many of the upperclassmen are talking about it!"
She watched Victoria's expression closely, trying to find a hint of softening or comfort, but the other girl just listened quietly, her gray eyes devoid of any ripples.
Silvia's voice trailed off, tinged with a hint of uncertainty and self-doubt.
"And... and maybe Her Highness Lilith was just... just lucky..."
"Thank you, Silvia."
Victoria finally spoke, interrupting Silvia's increasingly weak comfort. Her tone was steady, even gentle.
The thanks were polite, but carried a sense of distance.
Silvia opened her mouth to say more, but seeing Victoria turn back to the window—a clear sign she didn't want to continue the topic—all her prepared words stuck in her throat. Ultimately, they dissolved into a deeper sense of worry and helplessness.
She knew Victoria cared deeply about the outcome of this match.
And because she knew, she understood exactly how much this defeat must have hurt her.
It wasn't just an ordinary sparring match. It was a loss in front of everyone, during the critical Placement Exam, to the kingdom's princess who carried the weight of everyone's adoration and expectations.
This news would undoubtedly give those in the Church who already questioned her status as the Hero the leverage they needed.
Just then, there was a soft knock on the door, and an older woman in a white nurse's uniform poked her head in.
"Miss Silvia."
The nurse's voice was soft, carrying professional concern. "It's almost time for the dormitory curfew, and Miss Victoria needs her rest."
Silvia snapped out of it and looked at the wall clock.
The hands were indeed pointing toward a precarious number.
She hurriedly stood up.
"Ah, y-yes! I'm leaving right now!"
She turned to Victoria and said quickly:
"Victoria, get some good rest. I'll come see you again tomorrow! Don't... don't let the wound touch any water, and change your medicine on time. If it hurts or feels uncomfortable during the night, call the nurse immediately..."
"Mm, I will."
Victoria nodded, still without much expression. "Be careful on your way back, Silvia."
"You too... rest well."
Silvia took one last look at her friend. The figure wrapped in bandages looked exceptionally thin and fragile under the moonlight and the cold white lights of the hospital room.
Her heart twinged, but under the nurse's gentle gaze, she finally left the room, looking back three times before softly closing the door.
Click.
The faint sound of the lock clicking shut seemed to shut out all the noise and concern of the outside world.
The hospital room fell into complete silence.
The moonlight seemed to turn a bit colder.
The mask Victoria had maintained for two hours finally showed a crack once Silvia's footsteps had completely faded at the end of the corridor.
Her straight back slumped almost imperceptibly. Her left hand, which had been resting flat on the sheet, slowly clenched into a fist, her knuckles turning white from the force.
Her gray eyes no longer looked at the meaningless night outside the window. Instead, she lowered them to her bandage-wrapped right shoulder.
There, the skin that had been grazed by the scorching edge of the Flame Burst still pulsed with waves of burning pain, even through the thick dressings and analgesic potion.
The pain was incredibly clear and real. Every throb reminded her of every detail that had happened on the Arena stage that afternoon.
She had lost.
It wasn't a narrow defeat. Her tactics had been completely seen through, and she had been crushed head-on by overwhelming power and foresight before her long-planned counterattack could even be launched.
Was it humiliating? Of course.
Was she unwilling to accept it? Without a doubt.
But deeper down was a cold, almost panicked sense of helplessness, mixed with a strong doubt about her own promise.
Fragments of memory surged up uncontrollably, sharper than the pain of her wound.
The flames and thick smoke rising from her border village.
The hideous howls of the Demons and the dull sound of claws tearing through flesh.
The silhouette of her father standing at the door, broad as a mountain, only to be swallowed by darkness in an instant.
The strength of her mother's final embrace as she pushed her into the cellar, and the almost desperate plea in those tearful eyes—"Live!"
"I must become strong... strong enough to cut through all tragedy, strong enough to protect everything I cherish, strong enough... to take revenge on the Demons."
This was the vow she had made amidst the ruins. It was the only motivation that had sustained her through countless grueling training sessions, allowed her to endure the cold looks and mockery of others, and pushed her to get up and hone her magic in the dead of night when she was exhausted to the point of death.
And when that heavy, brilliant Hero's Protection had descended upon her, she almost believed it was the world's response to her—a validation of her path.
But what was the result?
In the first official duel after entering the academy, she had lost.
She had lost to a pampered princess.
The opponent hadn't even used any tricky tactics or powerful magic conduits; she had simply relied on her talent and that overwhelming fire magic to turn Victoria's carefully designed counterattack into nothingness.
Can someone like me... really make it to the end?
Can I really carry the name of the Hero and complete that nearly impossible revenge and mission?
She began to doubt herself.
Rate on N.U.
