ILRP 03

Chapter 3

Anyone who wasn’t an idiot would find such blunt and unpleasant reactions far from amusing.

On top of that, Elijia wasn’t exactly known for having a gentle temperament to begin with.

Just as she was about to snap back with, “What does that have to do with you?”, her nanny’s advice echoed in her mind like a hallucination.

“Please, at the Royal Academy, control your temper! Act with elegance as a princess!”

“……”

She paused for a brief moment.

Act elegantly. Suppress your temper. What had she said when her nanny had pleaded so desperately?

She had nodded enthusiastically and smiled, saying, “I’ll behave properly so as not to bring shame to the Kingdom of Ortigia.”

Elijia, who had been staring straight at Beth, soon composed her expression—making it look as kind as possible.

Then she spoke in what she believed to be the most polite tone in the world.

“I’m not yet used to dressing myself without the help of maids. No matter how hard I try, it doesn’t turn out well… That’s why I truly admire you, Senior. To be able to decorate yourself so beautifully and splendidly on your own.”

“Hm……”

Unsure whether it was praise or something else, Beth gave Elijia a once-over, her eyes seeming to ask, “What are you getting at?”

Elijia smiled brightly and continued.

“By the way, you said you’re from the Kingdom of Shati, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“I’ve heard rumors lately that Shati’s finances aren’t doing well… but that must be nonsense. Seeing you, I can tell that can’t be true.”

Looking at the large gemstone ring on Beth’s finger and the dazzling necklace around her neck, Elijia beamed.

Her face looked utterly pure, without a trace of ulterior motive.

Beth’s expression stiffened slightly. But Elijia, oblivious, continued her “compliment.”

“You’re truly beautiful. I’m even envious.”

She smiled brightly again, her face full of innocent sincerity—at least in her own mind.

After giving a small nod of greeting to the now-stiff Beth, Elijia gestured toward the training hall, indicating she would go inside.

Beth neither nodded nor responded.

Taking the silence as agreement, Elijia stepped into the hall.

A satisfied smile spread across her face.

‘Good. I held back well, Elijia!’

That had been a wise response—she hadn’t fought or lashed out. It was calm and elegant, worthy of a princess of Ortigia. At least, that’s what she believed.

“There’s no need to get dragged into childish provocations like that. From now on, let’s act kindly like this.”

Muttering her resolution, she walked forward with light steps.

Completely unaware that behind her, Beth was clenching her fists tightly.

Beth stood at the entrance, glaring at Elijia’s retreating back. Her nails dug into her palm.

It was an open secret that the financial state of her homeland, the Kingdom of Shati, was rapidly worsening.

That was precisely why she had been dressing extravagantly—to avoid appearing weak.

Whether the people starved or not, what mattered most to Beth was standing out. Her pride came first.

And yet, for someone to casually touch on that sore spot, smiling innocently as if mocking her—

Beth bit her lip, recalling Elijia’s expression.

It was humiliation.

Sweat trickled down from her heated forehead.

Elijia swung her sword repeatedly, too focused to even wipe away the moisture running down her jaw.

It was already the three-hundredth repetition of the same movement. Her arms trembled, and her mind began to blur.

Unlike before, no female students surrounded Lakan during this class.

As expected of a school where admission was based purely on skill, swordsmanship classes were conducted the same way.

Generally, female students were not as accustomed to handling swords as male students.

In other words, it was a class that weaker students couldn’t easily endure.

Elijia, despite her slender figure, came from a nation that had experienced war.

As royalty in a country that might return to war at any time, she had received more than enough training to protect herself.

A sharp pain shot through her wrist. Why is this class so intense? she cursed inwardly.

But she didn’t give up.

Partly because the imposing instructor was glaring at them with fierce eyes—and partly because Lakan, whom she had glanced at, was swinging his sword expressionlessly without even a drop of sweat.

“That’s enough. Take a short break.”

At the instructor’s words, Elijia exhaled heavily and collapsed where she stood.

As the formation reorganized, she realized Lakan was now standing beside her.

He glanced down at her and smirked slightly, as if to say, “You’re struggling with just this?”

Though she hated to admit it, his stamina was impressive.

After several minutes of heavy breathing—

“Everyone, stand. Form two lines and begin sparring.”

The brief rest ended.

Letting out a groan, Elijia got to her feet.

Clang!

Holding her wooden sword across her chest, she deflected her opponent’s attack.

Being female didn’t exempt her from sparring.

Her male opponent showed no intention of going easy on her—and she didn’t want him to.

‘I’m being overpowered.’

As she endured the overwhelming force, she thought quickly.

But she had always prided herself on one thing: quick judgment and exploiting openings.

Shifting her weight to her left foot, she deflected the incoming strike.

Her opponent, who had committed his weight forward, stumbled slightly.

She didn’t miss the opportunity.

Spinning, she struck toward his waist. Startled, he blocked, tilting his head back.

Her wooden sword stopped just short of his neck.

“…I lost.”

His voice was clean and accepting, though disbelief lingered in his face.

At that very moment—

Clatter!

A wooden sword flew through the air and struck the stone floor—it had been knocked from another student’s hands during his spar with Lakan.

The student alternated between staring at his empty hand and the fallen sword, then sighed.

Lakan stepped forward and extended a hand.

“Good work.”

Though he said it, his tone sounded as if even speaking was a bother.

Yet somehow, that arrogant tone suited him perfectly.

The opponent, despite looking dejected, accepted his hand.

While Elijia barely managed to win her matches, Lakan effortlessly defeated opponent after opponent.

Is this the difference in skill between us?

She couldn’t be sure.

If I weren’t a woman, could I beat that annoying man?

She had always been praised as talented—but she couldn’t say for certain.

Why did she feel such a strong urge to compete with him?

Was it because he was from an enemy nation? Or simply because of her first impression of him?

She couldn’t tell.

“Go easy on me, junior.”

“….”

It was her turn to spar with Lakan.

With a blunt face, he casually told her to “go easy”—in a relaxed, almost teasing tone.

Instead of replying, she lowered her stance.

Since he was larger, she would have to get inside his reach.

The match began.

Lakan stood still, as if telling her to attack first.

Determined to win, Elijia carefully considered her strategy.

Attack his lower body, make him lower his guard, then go for the neck!

She lunged forward—feinting high, then switching to a low attack.

Lakan blocked, shifting his upper body aside.

Now! His shoulder is open!

Her eyes flashed.

She thrust toward the opening—

But Lakan knocked her blade away with ease.

Instead, it was her posture that broke.

Yet he didn’t follow up.

…Why didn’t he attack?

Though their swords clashed, he showed no real aggression.

His strikes were light—non-threatening.

To observers, it might look like a normal spar.

But to Elijia, it felt like he was toying with her.

And worse—everything seemed to be moving according to his will.

Clang!

When she instinctively blocked his next strike, she realized—

It wasn’t her imagination.

At the moment her focus wavered, she clearly saw it—

His attack, aimed at her opening, was withdrawn at the last second.

His strike had been faster than her defense.

If he hadn’t held back, she would have lost instantly.

She lowered her sword and stared at him.

Amid the noise of clashing wood and shouting students, only their gazes locked in silence.

After a moment, Lakan raised his sword and lightly placed it near her neck.

“I win.”

“……”

His tone was casual.

She brushed his sword aside, breathing sharply in frustration.

She had fought seriously—but he had treated her like a toy.

“Yes. I lost.”

“Right. You’ll need to try harder, Princess.”

He turned away without hesitation.

Watching his retreating back, she bit her lip.

Is he going easy on me because I’m a woman? Disgusting.

She touched her neck—the spot where his strike would have landed.

Her fingertips felt cold.

After class, Elijia hurried after Lakan, who was casually spinning his wooden sword as he walked toward the dorms.

“Senior Lakan!”

She was certain now.

He hadn’t fought her properly.

And she knew why.

It had happened before—knights and noble sons holding back against her.

Because of that ingrained “chivalry”—that infuriating courtesy toward women.

But with a sword in hand, she was neither a delicate lady nor a princess.

She was simply an opponent.

She didn’t want to be toyed with like that again.

That was why she chased after him.

Tying up her disheveled hair as she ran, she stopped in front of him and spoke directly.

“Senior, if you’re going to fight like that again next time, then just lose to me instead.”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“Don’t toy with me—fight me properly. I was giving it my all, and frankly, it was quite unpleasant.”

“……”

For a moment, Lakan quietly examined her gaze.