Lydia

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The crisp sound of metal clashing rang through the air, sparks igniting where blades met.

On the training field, a girl’s figure danced like a butterfly, her twin daggers glinting like ripples on a mirror, tracing elegant silver arcs through the sky.

In the center, another girl wielding a knight’s longsword struggled to keep up.

Her opponent’s attacks were too swift, her movements nearly impossible to track. The senior’s dual-dagger technique was masterful and unpredictable, each thrust aimed at unavoidable, cunning angles.

If not for the costly mithril-enchanted light armor absorbing fatal blows, she’d have lost long ago.

Her sword flailed like a swatter chasing a fly, its effectiveness left to chance.

Finally, exhausted, the noble girl closed her eyes, tossed her sword to the ground, and collapsed into a duck-sitting pose.

A cold breeze brushed her cheek, lifting her brown hair.

A petite figure appeared behind her, two alchemical daggers, thin as cicada wings, resting on her shoulders.

Yet, facing this close-range threat, the armored noble girl showed no panic. She wearily wiped the sweat from her forehead, muttering helplessly through cherry lips.

“Senior Lydia, stop with your signature move. I really can’t beat you. Can we take a break?”

Her soft voice carried a girlish pout.

Hearing this, the chestnut-haired girl sighed, sheathing her daggers.

Under the sunlight, the alchemical blades’ gleam highlighted her face, the interplay of shadow and light enhancing her delicate, refined features.

Sheathing her daggers at her waist, Lydia pulled a hairpin from her training skirt’s pocket.

The hairpin, adorned with a simple bear design, was cute but plain and childish—a rarity in Apocalypse Academy, filled with prodigies.

The noble girl glanced at her senior fixing her side bangs with the same old hairpin, her face crumpling.

“Senior, how long have you used that hairpin? Since I enrolled, you’ve always had it. Can’t we change it?”

The noble girl pleaded.

“No.”

Lydia deftly pinned her stray hairs with the bear hairpin, her reply firm and unhesitating.

“But, Senior, you’re so pretty! A newer hairpin would only enhance that. Other seniors have suitors, but you’re always so cold. How about a warm-toned hairpin to soften your vibe?”

The noble girl racked her brain for ways to persuade her.

Lydia remained unfazed, pointing to the bear hairpin.

“Brown is a warm tone. No need.”

Her blunt response left no room for negotiation. The noble girl deflated, sighing helplessly.

With Lydia’s help, she stood, dusting her skirt and taking back her sword, which Lydia had retrieved.

Then, as if struck by a thought, she asked, “By the way, Senior, that hairpin—was it also a gift from your master?”

Lydia’s hand, wiping her daggers, froze. Her sky-blue eyes flickered with hesitation, then she sighed and nodded.

The noble girl’s face lit up with realization.

“I knew it! No wonder you keep all these old things. Every time I ask, it’s about your master. He must’ve been so kind to make the academy’s unattainable ‘Ripple Butterfly Dance’ hold him so dear.”

She lunged forward, hugging Lydia’s left arm tightly, whispering slowly and softly near her ear, her warm breath tickling Lydia’s sensitive earlobe, turning it bright red.

“Ilennia, enough! Stop teasing me with my master!”

Flustered by her friend’s teasing, the outwardly cold but inwardly warm Lydia could only counter with a girlish huff to mask her embarrassment.

Those close to her at the academy knew she deeply respected her master.

But even Ilennia, her closest friend, didn’t know her feelings went beyond respect. Over the five years since her master’s departure, her gratitude and admiration had fermented into something deeper.

Thinking of his name or face stirred her calm heart, awakening a restless fawn that thumped uncontrollably.

But the thought of her master’s fate chilled her briefly burning heart. He had died in the foreign Elven Forest, his body unrecoverable…

Her eyes hardened with resolve. Everything she had was thanks to her master. Now, as his only disciple, she had to seek justice for his death in that distant land!

After a morning of training, the two girls headed to the academy’s bathhouse, cleaned up, and walked hand-in-hand out the door.

“Senior Lydia, got time at noon? I’d love to have lunch with you.”

At a fork in the path, Ilennia, as usual, clung to Lydia’s arm, inviting her with a playful pout.

Ilennia knew this tactic rarely failed. Lydia seemed cold and unapproachable, but with a bit of pleading, she seldom refused.

This time, however, Lydia surprised and disappointed her by declining.

Seeing Ilennia’s aggrieved look, Lydia tapped her forehead with her knuckles. Ilennia yelped, clutching her head in mock complaint.

“Alright, it’s a special case. I have business at the headmaster’s office. But tonight, dinner’s on me.”

Lydia softened, compromising. Hearing her senior offer to treat her, Ilennia beamed, pouncing on Lydia in a full embrace.

Their soft bodies pressed close through thin fabric, intimately entwined.

“Thank you, Senior! You’re the best~”

At the fork, passing Apocalypse Academy students watched this lily-scented scene. Female students envied their close bond—a rare friendship. Male students sighed, lamenting that such treasures were “kept in-house.”

The girls parted ways. Ilennia headed to the cafeteria alone, while Lydia gracefully moved toward the headmaster’s office.

Gazing at the towering building, Lydia clenched her fists.

“This time, she had to secure a duel with Felicia from the headmaster!”