Glory Cael Magic Academy Affiliated Hospital, third floor, single private room.
Moonlight poured 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 soothing herbs.
Victoria Cecil leaned against the headboard of her hospital bed, a white sheet drawn up to her waist. Thick bandages wrapped her bare right arm and shoulder, with the dark tinge of salve faintly visible along the edges.
Her long gray hair draped untidily over her shoulders. The eyes that usually cut like razor blades now appeared somewhat dim, quietly gazing out at the heavy night beyond the window.
In a chair beside the bed sat Silvia, fidgeting uncomfortably. Her hands were nervously clasped in her lap, her pink eyes brimming with worry.
She had been sitting with Victoria like this for nearly two hours, trying all sorts of topics during that time—tomorrow’s classes, the dining hall’s new desserts, even trivial academy rumors.
Yet most of what she received in return were Victoria’s brief, almost perfunctory replies like “Mm” or “Is that so?” or simply outright silence.
Silence stretched through the hospital room once more.
Silvia bit her lower lip, finally gathering the courage to speak up carefully, her voice so soft it was as if she were afraid of disturbing something. “Victoria... about today’s match...”
Victoria turned her gaze away from the window and toward her friend.
Her expression was calm—unnaturally so.
“I-It was just one match!” Silvia said urgently, sounding as though she were reciting a draft she had prepared long ago. “You really don't need to take it to heart! Princess Lilith... she started receiving top-tier instruction very early on, after all. And High-tier magic like Flame Burst, even in its incomplete form, has power that...”
She paused, realizing this sounded a bit like making excuses for the opponent, and quickly corrected herself: “I mean, you did really, really well! Truly! Everyone saw it—your adaptability on the stage and your spellwork... so many upperclassmen are talking about it!”
She carefully observed Victoria’s expression, trying to find a flicker of relief or comfort, but the girl merely listened quietly, her gray eyes unruffled.
Silvia’s voice unconsciously trailed off, carrying a note of uncertainty and self-doubt. “Besides... besides, maybe Princess Lilith just... just got lucky...”
“Thank you, Silvia.”
Victoria finally spoke, cutting off Silvia’s increasingly unconvincing attempts at comfort. Her tone was steady, almost gentle.
The thank-you was polite, yet subtly distant.
Silvia parted her lips, wanting to say something more, but looking at Victoria’s profile as she turned back to the window—clearly signaling she didn’t want to pursue the topic—all her prepared words caught in her throat. In the end, they dissolved into a lingering surge of worry and helplessness.
She knew how much Victoria cared about the outcome of this match.
Because she knew, she understood all the better how heavy a blow this defeat was to her.
This wasn't just a minor defeat in a casual sparring match; under the watchful eyes of the entire audience, in the crucial Placement Exam that determined class assignments, she had lost to the kingdom's princess—a girl showered with love and expectations.
This news would inevitably allow those within the Church who already questioned her status as the Hero to seize control of the narrative.
Just then, a gentle knock sounded at the door, and an older woman in a spotless nurse's uniform poked her head inside.
“Miss Silvia,” the nurse said softly with professional care, “it's almost curfew for the dormitories, and Miss Victoria needs her rest.”
Silvia snapped back to her senses and glanced at the wall clock.
The hands were indeed pointing to a perilous hour.
She stood up in a hurry.
“Ah, y-yes! I'll leave right away!”
She turned to Victoria and said hastily, “Victoria, get plenty of rest, okay? I'll come see you again tomorrow! Don't... don't let the wounds touch water, make sure to change the dressing on time, and if it hurts or feels uncomfortable tonight, call the nurse immediately...”
“Mm, I will.” Victoria nodded, her face still showing little emotion. “Be careful on your way back, Silvia.”
“You too... get some rest.”
Silvia cast one last look at her friend. Wrapped in bandages beneath the moonlight and the cold white lamp of the hospital room, Victoria's figure looked exceptionally fragile and small.
A twinge of heartache gripped Silvia, but under the nurse's gentle gaze, she reluctantly left the room, glancing back with every few steps before softly closing the door behind her.
Click.
The faint click of the latch closing felt as though it shut out all the noise and concern of the outside world.
Total silence fell over the room.
The moonlight seemed to grow even colder.
The mask Victoria had maintained for two full hours finally cracked once Silvia's footsteps faded completely at the end of the hallway.
Her upright spine sagged imperceptibly, and her left hand, which had been resting flat on the sheet, slowly clenched into a fist, the knuckles turning pale from the strain.
Her gray eyes turned away from the meaningless darkness outside, dropping down to stare at her bandage-wrapped right shoulder.
There, the skin grazed by the scorching fringe of Flame Burst still radiated waves of burning pain, even through the thick dressings and analgesic potion.
The pain was incredibly sharp, painfully real. Every throb served as a stark reminder of every detail that had unfolded on the stage that afternoon.
She had lost.
It wasn't a narrow defeat. Her tactics had been completely seen through, her long-planned counterattack shattered before it could even be launched. She had been overwhelmed head-on by raw power and foresight.
Was it embarrassing? Of course.
Was she bitter? Without a doubt.
Yet deeper down lay a cold, almost panicked sense of powerlessness, mixed with intense self-doubt over her own vow.
Fragments of memory surged uncontrolled, sharper than the pain of her wounds.
Flames and thick smoke soaring to the sky above her border village.
The horrific howls of Demons and the dull tearing sound of sharp claws ripping through flesh.
Her father's back, broad as a mountain as he blocked the doorway, only to be swallowed by darkness in an instant.
The tightness of her mother's final hug as she shoved her into the cellar, along with the desperate plea in her tear-filled eyes: “Live!”
“I have to grow strong... strong enough to cut down every tragedy, strong enough to protect everything I hold dear, strong enough... to exact my revenge on the Demons.”
That was the oath she had sworn among the ruins—the sole drive that carried her through grueling training, sustained her through cold stares and mockery, and dragged her awake every exhausting midnight to temper her mana.
And when the heavy, burning Hero's Protection descended upon her, she had almost believed it was the world answering her call, a divine validation of her path.
Yet what was the result?
In her very first official duel at the academy, she lost.
Lost to a sheltered princess who had known only privilege.
Her opponent hadn't even relied on tricky tactics or formidable magic conduits; with raw talent and overwhelming fire magic alone, she had rendered Victoria's meticulously planned counterattack into dust.
Could someone like me... truly make it to the end?
Could I truly carry the weight of the Hero's name and fulfill such a nearly impossible vengeance and duty?
She began to doubt herself.
Rate on N.U.
