Dinner rush had taken over the cafeteria. Trays clattered, steam rose from the food counters, and the noise of hundreds of students bounced off the high ceiling.
Jiwoo, Minjae, Rina, and Jisoo finally found a free table near the window.
"Man, I swear my body's still vibrating from that fight," Minjae said, collapsing into his seat. "I see your sister's blade every time I blink."
Rina smirked. "That's called trauma."
"Thank you, Doctor Lightning. Very comforting."
Jiwoo pushed a tray toward him. "Eat before you start hallucinating for real."
Jisoo chuckled. "You actually did well, though. Lasted longer than most against your sister."
"Lasted," Minjae repeated. "Nice word for public execution."
They laughed. The tension from the day's matches finally started to fade. Jiwoo took a quiet bite of his food, his mind half-elsewhere. The cheers, the pressure—it was still there in his head like a low hum.
Rina noticed. "You're day dreaming again"
"Just thinking" he said.
"About tomorrow?"
Jiwoo nodded once. "It's going to get harder. Everyone left knows what they're doing now."
"That includes you," Jisoo said. "Don't start doubting right before the fun part."
Before Jiwoo could answer, a shadow fell over the table.
Kang Hyunwoo.
Conversations around them dipped. Even in casual clothes, Hyunwoo carried that heavy aura—the kind that pulled eyes without trying. He held a tray, calm as ever.
"Mind if I sit here?"
Minjae froze halfway to a bite. "Oh great, the flame emperor joins dinner."
Hyunwoo raised a brow. "I heard that."
"You were supposed to," Minjae whispered, shrinking into his seat.
Rina gestured to the empty chair. "Go ahead. Just don't burn the table."
Hyunwoo sat, completely unbothered. "You're Rina, right? Lightning Division."
"Yeah."
He nodded once, then looked at Jiwoo. "And you're the E-rank who keeps causing trouble. Ohh and Jiwon's brother."
Jiwoo met his gaze, steady. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Hyunwoo smirked faintly. "Depends on your definition of bad."
The air between them tightened just a little—nothing overt, but enough to make Minjae start nervously stabbing at his rice.
"Wow," Minjae muttered, "love this casual death aura we've got going."
Jisoo leaned back, watching with interest. "You two going to stare each other to death or wait until the tournament for that?"
"Probably both," Rina said, sipping her drink.
Hyunwoo actually laughed—a short, low sound. "Relax. I'm just curious."
"Curious?" Jiwoo asked.
"You've beaten people who should've crushed you by raw power alone," Hyunwoo said. "Either you're hiding something, or you're stupidly lucky."
"Can't it be both?" Minjae offered.
"Quiet, Minjae," Jiwoo said.
Hyunwoo's grin widened slightly. "See? Calm and humble. I like that."
Rina looked between them. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"Competition keeps things interesting," Hyunwoo replied. "Otherwise, this whole selection would've been over in the first round."
Minjae glanced at Jisoo. "You hearing this? He talks like he owns the academy."
Jisoo shrugged. "He kind of does, by reputation."
Hyunwoo smirked again. "Reputation's just truth that people repeat."
"Wow," Minjae said. "And here I thought I was the dramatic one."
They all laughed lightly. Even Jiwoo's lips twitched. For a few minutes, the tension dissolved into easy conversation—bits of sarcasm, teasing, and small talk about who nearly fainted in today's fights.
When dinner ended, Hyunwoo stood first. "Thanks for the food. See you all tomorrow."
As he walked off, Rina leaned toward Jiwoo. "You realize the entire cafeteria just watched you two share a table? They're going to call it 'The Calm Night Before the Fire.'"
Minjae nodded. "I'm totally using that headline on the student forum."
Jiwoo rolled his eyes. "Please don't."
"No promises."
Later that night, the training field was almost empty. Lights glowed faintly, their light spilling across the polished floor like moonlight on water.
Jiwoo stood at the center, practice sword in hand. His breathing was steady. Each swing sliced through the silence—sharp, controlled, deliberate. He wasn't training for strength anymore. He was chasing rhythm, the feeling of something just out of reach.
"Still practicing?"
The familiar calm voice made him turn. Headmaster Elias Kain stood by the doorway, hands behind his back. His presence filled the quiet space like a steady current.
"Couldn't sleep sir" Jiwoo said.
Kain stepped forward, watching his movements. "You've got good form. Not many your age would stay this late."
"I just… don't feel like stopping yet," Jiwoo admitted.
"Perfectionists rarely do," Kain said with a faint smile. "It's a dangerous habit. Useful, but dangerous."
Jiwoo lowered his sword slightly. "Guess I got that from somewhere."
Kain looked at him for a moment, something flickering in his expression—nostalgia, maybe. "Yes… you probably did."
Jiwoo tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing important," Kain said softly, his tone shifting back to neutral. "You just remind me of two people I used to know."
Jiwoo frowned. "From the academy?"
Kain chuckled quietly. "No. From a long time ago. They were strong. Stubborn. Always trying to carry more than they should."
He turned his gaze to the field. "You have that same look when you fight."
Jiwoo hesitated, unsure what to say. "That's… not a bad thing, right?"
Kain's smile deepened, faint but warm. "Not at all. But remember—strength isn't only about how hard you swing. It's about how long you can stand when things fall apart."
Jiwoo nodded slowly. "I'll remember that."
Kain began to walk away, his footsteps echoing lightly across the floor. "Get some rest, Jiwoo. Tomorrow's fights won't be kind."
Jiwoo bowed his head slightly. "Good night, Headmaster."
Just before leaving, Kain paused by the doorway, glancing back with a hint of humor. "And if Instructor Baek asks why I let you train after hours, tell him I outrank him. That should shut him up for a day."
Jiwoo blinked, caught off guard, then laughed quietly. "I'll keep that in mind."
The door closed softly behind Kain.
For a moment, Jiwoo stood there, staring at where the headmaster had been. The conversation replayed in his mind—especially that one line.
"You remind me of two people I used to know."
He didn't know why, but it stuck with him. Maybe because, for the first time, someone looked at him like they saw more than an E-rank.
He exhaled slowly and raised his sword again.
One strike. Two. Three.
Each swing was steadier than before, echoing in the quiet like a heartbeat.
The night stretched on, and Jiwoo kept moving—unaware that the people he reminded Kain of weren't just anyone… they were his parents.