Karl carefully opened Mia’s door, poked his head out to glance left and right. Confirming the coast was clear, he slipped out and swiftly shut the door behind him.

“Ugh,” Karl grumbled inwardly. “I didn’t even do anything! Why does it feel like I’m sneaking around for an affair??”

“Well… rubbing my face against her thigh was totally forced!!!”

In his heart, Karl knew his relationship with his sister-in-law remained completely innocent.

He hurried down the corridor to the study, pulled papers from four large envelopes nearby, and spread them across the desk.

Each envelope held admission materials for one of four prestigious academies.

Since Freya was the daughter of a count, all four top schools had sent recruitment letters, eager to enroll her.

The institutions were the public Imperial Royal Academy, Imperial Military Academy, Imperial Grand Arcane Academy, and the private Rose Girls’ Academy.

These four stood as the most renowned in the Lante Empire, each excelling in its own field.

When Karl had asked Freya her preference, she’d named the Imperial Military Academy without hesitation.

*Heh,* Karl thought dryly. *Unless I’m dead and buried, she’ll never set foot there.*

“What a joke!? A military academy?? Paving the way for rebellion later???”

Without mercy, he tore that brochure to shreds and tossed it into the trash.

In Karl’s view, the Imperial Royal Academy was the clear choice. Surrounded by nobles and royals, Freya would build bonds that’d steer her from rebellion.

Surely she wouldn’t raise a blade against friends?

Convinced, he set aside the Grand Arcane Academy—too demanding magically—and the Rose Girls’ Academy—girls-only, meaning he couldn’t supervise her.

He picked up the Imperial Royal Academy’s brochure and read carefully.

Located in the imperial capital, it lay roughly half a month’s journey from Count Sowani’s territory. Its faculty comprised court-level instructors, all high-ranking nobles themselves.

Enrolling meant inheriting a noble social network—connections for any future path.

For Karl, deepening Freya’s ties with these nobles was key. Once friends, rebellion would fade.

At the brochure’s bottom, he spotted the admission fair date for Count Sowani’s territory. Checking the calendar, he calculated: one week away.

This “fair” wasn’t an exam—it showcased student strength, trophies, and featured teachers answering questions face-to-face.

“Good,” Karl murmured. “Freya’s attending. She’ll build rapport with them.”

Just then, the study door swung open.

Freya entered, silver ponytail swaying, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Where were you? I searched everywhere and couldn’t find you???”

Karl set down the papers, feigning calm.

“I went to the garden looking for you. You weren’t there, so I came back.”

(The manor was vast—missing each other was normal.)

“Alright. Done with the materials? Got time to spar??”

Karl stood. “Sure. Heads-up: the Imperial Royal Academy’s admission fair is in a week. You’re coming with me.”

Freya’s brows furrowed slightly. “So you chose the Imperial Royal Academy after all.”

“Correct. Best fit for us. Enrolling grants a built-in network—immensely helpful.”

“I don’t like royals or nobles’ airs… but if you believe it’s best for us, I’ll follow your lead.”

She turned and left.

Karl followed her to the garden’s open grassy patch, where magic dummies and wooden practice weapons stood ready.

Freya gripped a wooden sword, facing him.

“Same rules: first hit to a vital spot loses. If you win, I’ll play a flute tune for you again.”

Karl’s pulse quickened.

“And if I lose??”

“Then you’ll be punished as a ‘lapdog’.”

“………………"

*Win or lose, I get a reward?* Karl thought, warmth blooming in his chest. *My wife really does love me.*

He lifted his wooden sword. “Bring it on.”

The moment he spoke, Freya lunged. Frost shimmered faintly along her blade’s edge.

*(This world revolved around magic. Seven common tiers existed: Bronze, Silver, Gold, Diamond, Starlight, King, Legend. Beyond Legend lay mythical ranks—Epic and Mythical—but Karl had never heard of anyone reaching them. Right now, Freya’s “mana infusion” was pure Silver-tier: Bronze mages cast basic spells; Silver could weave mana into weapons, unleashing “magic martial arts”—techniques blending combat and magic, growing stronger with rank, rivaling pure spells as the era’s two dominant fighting styles.)*

Freya swung her sword—ice shards flew, snowflakes swirled. Her strike carried chilling force.

Karl sidestepped nimbly, flicked his wrist to parry.

Undeterred, Freya pivoted into a horizontal slash toward his chest.

Karl raised his pinky. A minuscule light orb shot forth—tiny, unspell-like, yet blindingly fast.

*Thud!*

It struck her blade, punching a hole through the frost. The impact jolted her backward.

In that split second, Karl thrust his sword tip squarely at her throat.

Time froze. Freya stood rigid.

Then—Karl dropped his sword.

“Oops~~ Slipped. I forfeit this round.”

“………………"

Freya sighed softly. “Too obvious. If you’re cheering me up, act better.”

Before she finished, Karl swept her waist, his face inches from hers.

“Who said I’m cheering you up?? I just want to play the harmonica for you.”

Freya’s cheeks flushed. She lowered her head, voice barely a whisper:

“Let’s go back to the room.”

⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄