"Garden-san."
The lecturer fixed her gaze sharply at a certain someone.
Garden Gale instinctively glanced behind her.
Then realization struck—forget whether there was anyone behind her, there wasn't even another "Garden" in this class! Her eyes drifted upward, locking awkwardly onto the lecturer's. The woman adjusted her glasses, lips parting once more:
"Garden Gale-san."
Ah. Definitely calling me, then.
The teacher's repetition hammered the final nail into her coffin. There was certainly no second "Garden Gale" here—though right now, she desperately wished otherwise.
All eyes in the classroom swung toward her at once. Front rows, back rows, even the instructor—every single gaze pinned her in place, reminiscent of those anxious schooldays when being called upon meant instant doom.
Garden Gale's face went pale as her thumb anxiously rubbed circles against her index finger beneath the desk, a tiny gesture trying in vain to calm her pounding heart. She was so nervous, her mind blanked entirely.
Ahhh—
Why'd she suddenly call my name?! Did I play with my phone that obviously? Damn, I should've been sneakier!
But regret was always cheap.
Should I stand up first? Yeah, stand first—standing is the right move.
Mindlessly, she stood straight up. Her lips moved silently, no words emerging, frozen in panic. Her brain had completely shut down.
Yet her posture remained flawless, like a timid young deer stretching gracefully upright.
"Garden Gale-san," the lecturer pressed again, pushing up her glasses, "explain briefly for us: From today's lesson, Maximizing Speed in the Final 3-Furlong Spurt, what is the key point? Actually—let me rephrase it more simply: how do you personally maximize speed in your final spurt?"
"Please answer."
Crap.
I'm totally screwed.
Those were the only thoughts echoing through Garden Gale's mind now.
Of all the disasters she'd faced, this was the worst yet.
Previously, no matter how humiliating, she could always reassure herself afterward: It's fine, I don't know them anyway. But now? She'd been classmates with these girls for two whole years. They knew her. She couldn't just crawl under her covers and pretend nothing had happened.
If she did, she'd end up secretly crying in bed tonight for sure.
Garden Gale didn't want to fail here—but she genuinely couldn't answer the lecturer's question.
She'd tried seriously to listen, truly—but the lecture was so dull, so complex, she'd barely understood a word.
But she couldn't give up. She also had no answer. Silence seemed her only refuge, so she stayed quiet, mind racing at lightning speed, desperately seeking a way out of this mortifying predicament.
From everyone else's perspective, Garden Gale stood tall, calm-faced and confident-looking, yet said nothing.
…Did she really not know?
Several students wondered briefly, then swiftly shook off the thought.
Impossible. If it were anyone else, maybe—but Garden Gale was one of the two prodigies of their generation, on par with Tokai Teio herself. Surely she just wanted to phrase her explanation perfectly, make it simple enough for everyone else to understand?
Yeah, that had to be it.
One girl nodded in silent agreement, convinced by her own reasoning.
Besides, Garden Gale was calmly holding the lecturer's gaze. Not a shred of fear or hesitation showed on her face—only a faint, mysterious smile.
This further solidified the girl's assumption.
...
Silence reigned.
The classroom grew still enough that a pin dropping would've echoed clearly.
The lecturer stared down Garden Gale, her patience rapidly wearing thin. Why wasn't she answering yet? Just as she was about to press again, Garden Gale finally spoke:
"I don't know."
Her voice was calm, steady—almost serene.
What?
She was this bold even when admitting ignorance?!
The classmates watching went slack-jawed with disbelief, even more stunned than Garden Gale herself.
Before anyone else could react, rage flared instantly in the lecturer's chest. She'd dared play around on her phone so blatantly—only to casually admit ignorance? She'd nearly fallen for that calm facade!
But before she could unleash her fury, Garden Gale spoke again, clarifying casually:
"What I do know is that I can outrun anyone else in the final 3-furlong spurt." A faint smile played at her lips. "I've never been much of a theory type, after all. I'm strictly hands-on. So if you ask me about theory, I genuinely don't have an answer."
She raised one finger in confident emphasis.
"But when it comes to actual racing—front to back, left to right—I'm the strongest in this class."
She declared herself strongest as casually as stating a universal truth, like announcing the sun rises in the east. It left no room for rebuttal, so boldly spoken it rendered argument meaningless.
Silence returned, heavier than before.
A bird fluttered past the windows.
Every single person stared, dumbstruck by the sheer arrogance of this prodigy's answer.
In seconds, resentment stirred in their hearts—subtle, yet undeniable.
You're that arrogant? Then why not prove it right now?
The lecturer swallowed her shock, regained composure, and forced a strained smile. "If memory serves, I believe next period is mine as well, correct?"
"Very well. Let's skip straight to practical training, then. Apply everything we've discussed—and personally witness Garden Gale-san's 'ultimate final spurt.'" Her voice tilted upward in challenge.
No one objected. The lesson moved naturally into practical mode.
Together, the entire class marched toward the training track.
Garden Gale followed behind quietly, at the very end of the group. Nobody noticed—
Her legs were trembling slightly.
Inwardly, her heart was pounding like mad, nearly suffocating from sheer anxiety. Her nerves were stretched so tight, she was on the verge of hyperventilating.
All thanks to her own reckless arrogance.
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T/N: LMAOOOOOOOOOO okay im cliffhanging it here LMAOOOO BRO TALKED SHIT FOR ONCE AND IMMEDIATE CONSEQUENCES RUINED KING IS SO RIGHT CUZ YOURE RUINEDDD (that cliffhang was for patreon)