The bang of the door opening echoed against the walls, and the casual chatter in class F cut off instantly.
Heads turned in unison toward the door.
Standing there was a boy Soren had never seen up close before.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
A solid build that made his uniform sit cleanly across his frame.
If Soren had to describe him in simple terms, he would've said:
'He looks like Lilliana's type.'
Sharp features.
Strong jaw.
That kind of firm, knight-like presence nobles loved to show off.
If you put him in armour with a sword on his hip, he would fit on a romance novel cover.
But that wasn't important right now.
The moment the boy opened the door, every gaze in the room latched onto him… then, as if pulled by some unspoken instinct, shifted toward Soren.
Soren felt the weight of two dozen stares pressing against the side of his face.
'…Why are they looking at me?' he thought.
He glanced down at himself, then at his desk, then at the door.
It wasn't as if people frequently stepped into class F.
When they did, it was always for one of three reasons:
To yell at Soren.
To look for Soren.
Or to drag Soren somewhere.
'Damn it. This time it's really not me, right?'
He tried to deny it internally, but deep down, he already knew.
The boy at the door scanned the room with a fierce, searching glare.
His eyes moved over each face, dismissing them one by one, until they stopped on Soren.
There was a slight shift in the air.
"Soren Arden," the boy said, stepping into the classroom with steady, confident strides.
"For fuck's sake," Soren muttered.
He couldn't stop the curse from slipping out.
He had just finished thinking to himself that everyone always came looking for him, and now this.
A few students gasped.
— Did he just curse like that…?
— In front of a noble from another class?
— He really doesn't act like a count's son…
Soren ignored them.
The tall boy approached his desk and, without warning…
Slap.
A folded piece of cloth struck Soren's face and dropped into his lap.
"Eh?" Soren blinked.
He picked the glove up between two fingers and turned it over.
'What the hell is this…?' he thought.
He hadn't seen this particular custom in person before, but he wasn't stupid.
The stares.
The attitude.
The deliberate, theatrical throw.
It wasn't hard to guess.
"What's going on?" he asked flatly, looking up at the boy.
The answer came cold and straightforward.
"I challenge you to a duel, Soren Arden."
Silence fell over the classroom.
A few students sucked in sharp breaths, eyes flicking between the two of them.
Soren stared at the boy, then at the cloth, and then back at him again.
His brain finally connected the dots.
'This idiot really just pulled the challenge-glove cliché on me in class F,' he thought.
But understanding the situation didn't mean he had to accept it.
"Piss off," Soren said immediately.
He dropped the glove back onto the desk and leaned his cheek into his hand.
He had too much going on already to waste time on some random thug who thought picking a fight with Rank 96 was a good use of his day.
There was nothing to gain, and far too much to lose.
— Gasp!
— He refused?!
— What about his noble dignity?
The whispers began almost immediately.
Soren felt the weight of their shock but didn't care.
He knew how he sounded.
A count's son refusing a formal duel challenge, in front of witnesses, was practically asking to be called a coward by every bored noble on campus.
But Soren Arden's noble dignity meant nothing to Isaac.
The boy in front of him flinched for a moment at the blunt rejection.
For a brief second, his expression twisted with raw anger, then smoothed over into a mocking grin.
"Ah, I get it," he said, voice dripping with fake understanding. "You're scared. Is that why?"
Soren didn't bother responding.
He just rolled his eyes, but the boy's next words landed differently.
"Do you always need women to stand up for you? Don't you find it pathetic?"
The classroom tensed.
"Not only do you drag Princess Einhardt around with you," he continued, voice rising. "But you've also managed to pull in Lady Rupindolf. Do you have no shame?"
The words hit harder than Soren wanted to admit.
He knew it was provocation.
He recognised it as such.
But that didn't make it harmless.
He closed his eyes for a moment and forced a slow breath out through his nose.
'This little shit…' he thought.
"What's in it for me?" Soren finally said.
The boy faltered.
"What?" he asked.
Soren raised his head, expression bored.
"Surely you're not walking all the way down to class F just to pressure a student ranked ninety-sixth into duelling you so you can beat them up and brag about it later. Are you really that pathetic?"
A few students stiffened.
Soren continued.
"There's zero reason for me to accept your challenge. You're stronger. I'm lower-ranked. You're from a higher class. Where exactly is the upside for me?"
The boy's mouth opened and closed once, as if he had genuinely never considered that angle.
"Do you not care for your noble dignity?" he said, sounding almost offended.
"Fuck that," Soren replied instantly. "What's that going to get me?"
He ticked off points on his fingers.
"Noble dignity doesn't feed me. Doesn't clothe me. Doesn't make me stronger. If anything, it just gives me more hassle. So give me a real reason."
Soren, who had grown up in a world with no nobles at all, had no reverence for the weight of a title.
Being a "count's son" had never once saved his life in this world.
It had only ever made things more complicated.
If he were some power-obsessed climber, maybe he would cling to it, but he wasn't.
Every time someone mentioned "noble pride", all he heard was "more bullshit".
The boy stared at him in disbelief, then scoffed.
"Wow, the rumours were true. You really do act just like a filthy commoner."
His tone was triumphant, like he had delivered some finishing blow.
Unfortunately for him, the insult bounced off.
"Whatever," Soren said blandly. "So? Do you have anything to offer or not? I've got plans."
He really did.
He wanted to get through the day, eat something decent, and sleep.
Preferably without being dragged into some noble's ego battle.
The boy clicked his tongue softly, then exhaled.
"Fine," he said. "The winner can make any one wish of the loser. Is that good enough for you?"
Before Soren could answer, the classroom door slammed open again.
Slam.
Amelia walked in, her usual lethargic expression resting on her face like a mask.
She scanned the room once, taking in the tense air, the glove on Soren's desk, the crowd of students watching silently.
Her eyes narrowed.
The atmosphere around her shifted.
The boy took a small, involuntary step back when their gazes met.
Her golden eyes held none of their usual dullness.
They were hard, sharpened like drawn blades.
"…"
The boy swallowed, shoulders tightening.
For a second, it looked like he might truly back down.
But pride, or stupidity, forced him to speak.
He drew closer to the door as if preparing to leave, then, when he passed by her, he leaned in just enough so his words reached Soren as well.
"I will save you, Princess," he said softly. "Just wait for me."
The entire classroom went still.
Soren stared at the back of his head.
'Ah, so that's what this is.'
Not just random provocation.
Not some bored student picking on a lower class.
A self-styled "chivalrous idiot" trying to "rescue" Amelia from the suspicious count's son hovering near her and the duke's daughter.
It was cliched enough that part of Soren wanted to laugh.
Another part wanted to punch something.
The boy was already turning away, satisfied with his own line, when Soren finally spoke.
"I get it now," Soren said.
His lips curled up into a slow, amused smirk.
"Fine," he continued. "I accept."
The boy stopped mid-step and turned back.
"Accept what?" Amelia asked quietly, eyes still fixed on the intruder.
"I accept this guy's duel," Soren said, jerking his chin towards him. "The loser grants the winner a single wish, right?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Since he's so noble," Soren added, voice dry, "I'm sure he won't mind if I set the date and time, since he was the one who challenged me."
He tapped his fingers against the desk, thinking.
"Let's see… How about three days from now, after classes end? Is that good with you?" he said casually.
The boy's expression soured.
"...Sure," he forced out.
The promise had been made with witnesses.
Backing out now would stain his own "noble dignity" far more than Soren's.
With that, he turned and left without another word, not even sparing Amelia a second glance.
The door closed behind him with a quieter click than his entrance.
Silence lingered a few moments longer before the classroom slowly began to breathe again.
Soren exhaled, leaning back in his chair.
'So much for a quiet afternoon…' he thought.
Amelia walked over and stopped beside his desk.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked.
"Do you think I'll lose?" Soren asked back.
She was quiet for a moment, considering.
"...He's weak," she said finally. "But you're weaker."
Soren let out a short laugh.
"I know," he answered.
He didn't take it as an insult.
She wasn't saying it to hurt him.
She was stating a fact, the same way she always did.
"Okay," Amelia said simply.
With that settled, she pulled out the chair beside him, sat down, and leaned against his shoulder as if nothing unusual had happened.
Her tail flicked lazily behind her, brushing lightly against his leg.
"Don't lose," she muttered, eyes closing.
Soren looked down at her.
Her expression hadn't changed, still calm, still tired, but he knew her well enough now to recognise the weight of those words.
He smiled.
"I won't," he said quietly.
At least, he would do everything he could to make sure of that.
————「❤︎」————