Though this gathering had little to do with him—it was entirely for Romon and Oulei—Lorin was kept late before finally returning to his manor.

Lack of sleep left him drowsy all morning in class. He’d hoped to head back early for a nap, only to be told about afternoon sword training.

“What’s sword training? Just fighting?” Lorin muttered to himself, yawning.

Those nearby could only offer awkward smiles. Even if Lorin couldn’t inherit the throne, he was still the second prince—far beyond their authority to discipline.

“The Bookkeeper explained, “Swordsmanship grades also affect a student’s standing in the academy.”

For training, the boys had already changed into light clothing. The girls, too, wore form-fitting training dresses—garments that naturally drew the boys’ gazes.

“No wonder these guys are so eager,” Lorin remarked, sitting aside with his sheathed sword, a stark contrast to the restless boys around him.

“One question,” he asked the Bookkeeper. “If I can choose magic from you, what about swordsmanship?” As an outsider transmigrated into this world, he knew nothing of magic—or swordplay. Truthfully, he’d only ever watched fights; he’d never thrown a punch himself.

“I can assign you a sword style. Its tier will evolve with your abilities.”

As the Bookkeeper finished speaking, just like the magical formula before, a sword technique began imprinting itself into Lorin’s mind.

“Look—it’s the Crown Prince!”

Someone’s voice rang out. Instantly, every girl turned toward the far end of the training ground. There stood Romon, the first prince Lorin had met last night, accompanied by senior students.

With only one training ground, clashes between year groups were inevitable—but its size prevented interference.

In moments, nearly all the girls swarmed around Romon like sparrows chirping. Yet Romon maintained a gentle smile all throughout.

No wonder he was popular with girls. But recalling last night’s conversation, Lorin shook his head. Who’d have guessed that smile was all an act?

A figure walked past Lorin. He looked up—it was Xueyi, freshly changed.

Lorin’s gaze swept over her. At sixteen, she’d clearly blossomed overnight. The tight dress accentuated her figure, yet something about Xueyi gave him the impression of sudden, unexpected growth.

Catching his stare, Xueyi snapped, “What are you gawking at? Never seen a girl before?”

“Honestly? No,” Lorin sighed.

Unlike Xueyi—who only drew Lorin’s attention—Lilith was under intense scrutiny from the boys. Both girls, however, stood apart from the crowd fawning over Crown Prince Romon.

“The Crown Prince’s right there. Why not go over?” Lorin casually remarked, still holding his sword.

“Mind your own business!” Xueyi shot him a glare and strode off—not toward Romon, but toward Lilith, who was warming up.

“So it’s true,” Lorin murmured.

If Xueyi truly admired Romon, she’d be with the others. Instead, she sought Lilith. Had Lilith been male, Lorin might’ve suspected romantic feelings. But sometimes, gender wasn’t so rigid.

“Lilith.” Xueyi stopped before her, drawing her sword and pointing it squarely at Lilith’s chest.

Lilith merely smiled faintly and unsheathed her own blade.

Their duels had become a staple of training sessions. Even when instructors paired them separately, Xueyi always found Lilith.

Watching their clashing figures, Lorin wondered: Did Xueyi truly hate Lilith? Or did she just crave the attention Lilith received? Their last talk had revealed strange—but not twisted—thoughts.

“According to the original story,” Lorin asked the Bookkeeper, “Lilith will soon leave the Royal Capital. Will Xueyi change then?”

“She might. Or she might not,” the Bookkeeper replied. “Villains don’t necessarily change just because the protagonist leaves.”

“True enough,” Lorin mused, stroking his chin. Even with Lilith gone, Xueyi’s fate as a villain might remain unchanged.

While Lorin was lost in thought, a crisp clash of blades cut through the air. A sword flew upward—then clattered to the ground.

A familiar scene. But this time, it was Lilith’s sword.

Xueyi’s grin was unmistakable. “See? I told you you’d fall to me one day.”

Lilith didn’t reply. Sweat beaded on her forehead; her expression twisted in pain.

“Hey,” Xueyi frowned. “Losing to me isn’t *that* unbearable.”

Lilith’s lips darkened. She clutched her chest, then collapsed limply to the ground.

“Hey! What’s wrong?!” Xueyi shook her, but Lilith was already unconscious.

“What’s happening?” Lorin raised an eyebrow, caught off guard.

The crowd gathered. Crown Prince Romon rushed forward, lifting Lilith. He glanced at her condition, then at Xueyi’s sword. “Miss Xueyi Glaite—you poisoned her during a duel? Disgraceful.”

“No, I—”

Ignoring her, Romon carried Lilith out of the training ground. The others, swayed by his words, stared at Xueyi with open contempt.

“I didn’t poison her! She collapsed on her own—I did nothing!” Xueyi shouted, desperate to explain. But no one listened. Everyone kept their distance.

“This wasn’t in the original story either,” Lorin observed, watching Xueyi stand alone.

He’d always assumed Xueyi turned villain because of her clashes with Lilith. But now? Others must have fanned the flames. This was part of it too.