The Broken Blade and the Final Bath

Dimension’s sword, about half a span longer than standard, swung down fiercely. I raised mine to parry. I had judged that he must be exhausted; even someone as annoyingly fit as him was gasping for air, and his movements had slowed visibly.

It made sense. He’d been swinging that heavy blade—hefty even for someone like me, who could scale mountains carrying double my body weight—at high speeds for quite a while. Feeling victory within my grasp, a smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.

‘Shit.’

As if reprimanding me for that premature smile, my sword buckled and chipped where it struck his. It was a minute fracture, but it wouldn’t hold; it was going to snap.

A curse escaped me. I had overlooked the fact that it wasn’t just people who got tired. I had picked up a standard training sword from the rack and abused it for two straight weeks; this was the inevitable result.

I locked eyes with Dimension. There was no way he hadn’t noticed what I had. His eyes, transparent and pale like ice, remained as calm as ever, but a strange excitement flickered within them. Just as I had moments ago, he was now predicting an early victory.

A surge of stubbornness rose in me. I have my pride. I couldn’t let him have what he wanted that easily.

“Focus.”

I threw his own words back at him with a bared-teeth grin. Before his confusion could turn into realization, I let go with one hand, poured all my strength into the other, and twisted the hilt. The snapped blade grazed past his skin. My cheek burned, but I didn’t care as I reached out my hand.

For the first time today, his pale blue eyes were filled with panic.

“Stop!”

Spellman’s shout brought the motion to a dead halt. Suddenly, noise flooded back in as if the previous silence had been a lie. It felt like a shell surrounding us had shattered. Dimension’s sword remained frozen in an awkward position where I’d deflected it, and my hand was gripping his forearm.

Even before Spellman could approach to officially end the spar, I pulled away. One side had a broken sword but had grabbed the arm; the other had broken the sword but had frozen up. If we had to declare a winner, I was in a position where I could have broken his arm, so I had no lingering regrets.

Dimension eventually composed himself and lowered his sword. Usually, he was the type to leave the grounds without a second thought, but strangely, he kept staring at my face. I realized a bit late that his slight frown and restless expression meant he was unsettled. I moved my hand toward where his gaze was fixed, but Dimension, showing off his ghostly reaction speed, caught my wrist.

“Your hands are dirty.”

We had both been rolling in the same dust, so I didn’t know what he was on about. Here we were, in the middle of the training grounds, drenched in sweat, holding hands.

I pulled my hand away easily. For such a sudden grab, his grip was surprisingly weak.

“What is it?”

My voice lacked any real energy. I’d been flying high while focused, but the moment that tension snapped, a tidal wave of exhaustion hit me.

Honestly, I didn’t even have the strength to walk. I wanted to peel off these damp clothes, wash up, eat until I was full, and just collapse. Since this was my last night in a Spellman bed, I intended to enjoy my few days of vacation.

“You have a cut on your face.”

Dimension lingered, hesitating as he bit his lip, finally speaking quickly once I showed signs of annoyance.

“My face?”

“I told you, your hands are dirty.”

He caught my hand again as it instinctively moved toward my face. Ah. He grabbed me so I wouldn’t get dirt in the wound. I understood then. I glanced at my neck and saw that my shirt collar was stained red. The moment I noticed it, the wound began to throb.

“Is it bad?”

“…It’s bleeding a lot.”

I noticed that while his voice was calm, only his voice was calm. It was funny seeing him stand there fidgeting, unable to leave. Especially since he had a scratch on his own face. It seemed the sight of blood had flustered him more than he expected.

“It’s fine. We were using real swords; blood is part of the deal.”

“……”

“If you feel that bad, go get me some medicine.”

“Fine.”

I’d just thrown the suggestion out thinking he’d refuse, but surprisingly, he answered immediately. I felt better knowing I wouldn’t have to make the trip to the healer myself. He wasn’t the type to give empty words, so he’d likely fetch the medicine even before he washed himself.

“Are you planning on fixing that with a potion?”

Spellman approached, looking displeased. Seeing as he usually wouldn’t blink at a wound during training, his comment suggested it might be serious. Since I couldn’t see it myself, I didn’t feel particularly alarmed.

“If you’re scarred, the Count will have my head.”

Ah.

Before, he’d tossed me onto a monster-infested mountain with nothing but a sword, three days’ worth of jerky, and water. Now that I was about to return to the capital, he was suddenly worried about appearances.

When I narrowed my eyes at him, he looked away.

I hadn’t seen my family at all during this time. Knowing the personalities of the Count and my brothers, the pressure on him must have been immense. It would be even worse this year, since they expected me to return soon. Through it all, Spellman had even intercepted the letters they sent.

Before leaving Robenus, Spellman had asked for my final resolution. He understood the family’s worry and affection, but he believed that if I kept in regular contact with them, I would always feel I had a place to retreat to. He feared that possibility would prevent me from training as if my life depended on it.

His face had been solemn when he told me that if I wanted to be safely protected within their fence, I should go back then. I knew it was the last chance he was offering. I had suppressed the faint, wavering hesitation and kicked that chance away.

Thinking of my family’s reaction made my heart soft, but it couldn’t be helped. They had doted on me for four years. Through that overwhelming, one-sided affection, I had long since come to view the Edwills as my real family. If they were to be gravely hurt in the future I knew of, I had to strive to prevent it. I couldn’t bear a future where Leo died, where the Count was used by Annette, where Cale left the capital, or where Abel locked himself in the Magic Tower forever.

“Ah, I’m dying…”

I sank deeper into the hot water and tilted my neck back. The steam made it hard to see the ceiling. If I had to list the things I liked about the Spellman estate, it would be the food, the potions that worked better than holy water, and the clean, spacious training grounds—but the bathroom was the absolute best.

The trainee dorms had a large bath that could fit thirty people and individual tubs where one could use their preferred bath salts. Even the guest rooms had attached bathrooms. The crucial part was that it wasn’t a portable tub filled by servants; you could actually turn on the water where the tub was installed.

As I soaked in water filled with bath salts that claimed to relieve fatigue in a five-line description, my whole body turned to jelly. I knew I should get out and head to bed, but having tasted the heat, I didn’t want to move. Thinking that this was all ending soon only made me more stubborn.

I wished the capital had something like this. Hot water was always available there, but the temperature was usually fixed and wouldn’t go any higher. Erkel would love this.

It was a shame that in this vast land, hot springs were so rare. As someone with a Korean soul that loved soaking in hot water, it was quite a disappointment. I’d heard they existed abroad, but unfortunately, a Prince with a claim to the throne couldn’t easily leave the country.

Since I had cut off contact with my family, I naturally hadn’t had the chance to talk to Erkel either. I just trusted that he was working hard at the Academy while I was doing the same here.

Perhaps it was because I had pushed myself so relentlessly over the past five years. Now that I was finally relaxing, the faces I had tried so hard to bury began to surface one by one. I wondered how Erkel’s gentle face had changed, if Lewis was still practicing magic, and if Aiden was still as shy. Helena would be grown up and beautiful now; I wondered if she was still getting along with Lucia.

Elliot… I was a bit worried about him. I’d sent a letter as I was leaving in a hurry, but there was no time to get a reply. Recalling how he acted as if he knew my every thought, I didn’t think my excuse of a “sudden decision” would fly. He’d surely be angry that I’d kept my mouth shut despite having plenty of chances to speak before he left Robenus. Thinking about seeing him soon felt daunting. I should have given him a heads-up. It was a late regret. I could already hear the scolding he’d deliver with that cold face.

No. Actually, the person I least wanted to run into in the capital was someone else. That spot belonged to the Crown Prince. At least I felt a sense of longing for Elliot; just thinking about the Crown Prince made me sigh.

When I left, I felt light-hearted at the thought of not having to see his face for a while. But time passed faster than expected. I could no longer ignore the things I had pushed aside and avoided.