Before the practical class had even ended, Sang slipped away without a second thought.
But who would have guessed… Before he could make it out of the arena, he passed by a private training room and ran straight into Shika. The guy was MIA all day, but it turned out he was holed up in a place like this, practicing his swordsmanship. The moment Shika spotted Sang, his eyes lit up with excitement. He insisted on a quick spar, no matter what.
“You’re probably the first werewolf ever to pick up a sword…”
Shika kept a straight face as he grinned at Sang’s jab. “Don’t sweat the small stuff. I’m bored out of my mind here, and I’ve been sneaking peeks at some Orthodox Swordsmanship lately. Come on, humor me with a practice round.”
Ten minutes later.
A masked young man, drenched in sweat, stumbled out of the training room. He didn’t even bother closing the door properly—just left it ajar. Right then, the door to the neighboring room swung open, and out stepped a golden-haired, blue-eyed beauty: Luna. She’d just been in there helping Adel with her sword practice when a massive racket erupted from next door.
Once things quieted down, she poked her head out to check.
She first noticed Shuade Buyaobuyaude’s retreating back and murmured to herself, “So it was him using the room next door…”
Then Luna peeked through the half-open door into the other training room. The sight left her dumbfounded. The steel-walled chamber was a total wreck—debris scattered everywhere.
“That’s way too over the top. What on earth was that guy doing in there?”
Right after that.
Luna spotted the gray-haired boy sprawled motionless on the floor. She hurried over, pulling out a handkerchief, her voice full of concern. “A-are you okay?”
Shika was still conscious, really. It was just that Sang had gone way too hard on him. Exhausted beyond belief, he could barely move. He cracked his eyes open and saw a golden-haired, blue-eyed woman. Shika hated women—especially as a wolf with a nose like his. He couldn’t stand the perfume they wore.
For some reason, though, this woman’s scent was unusually faint, even if she did have a fragrance.
Even so, Shika scowled in disgust. “None of your business. Get lost!”
Luna wasn’t one to be pushed around. Sure, she was more refined these days, but back in Kaen Town, she’d been infamous for her spoiled, willful streak. Treat her good intentions like dirt, would he? She whipped out her masterful bandaging skills on the spot, wrapping Shika up like a mummy, then sauntered off without a backward glance.
“Hmph~”
“Damn it, that woman—don’t go! I’ll kill you!”
…
Sang strolled down the arena’s inner corridor. As the post-workout adrenaline finally ebbed, he noticed a faint stinging in his collarbone. He reached up, touched it, and came away with a smear of blood. Well, damn—turns out Shika had nicked him good during their bout.
The wound wasn’t shallow, and it was bleeding steadily.
Just then.
Around the corner ahead, less than twenty meters away, he heard two female voices chatting.
“Hee hee hee, you smell that? Something smells amazing… Blood! It’s blood!”
“Mmm, oh my god! It’s the most delicious blood I’ve ever smelled in my life…”
Sang realized he was in deep trouble. He started to backtrack, but then voices from behind—more Blood Race folk, drawn by the scent.
Only two choices left: a blank wall on the left, a door on the right.
No way he was punching through a wall. So he ducked through the door.
The moment he stepped inside, a wave of steam hit him in the face.
In the next second, as he whipped around, the scene before him left him stunned. There stood Iyefut Cape, wrapped in a single bath towel, her gradient long hair dripping wet. She’d clearly just showered.
He glanced around and realized with a jolt—this was a shower room.
Iyefut Cape was no better off. Barefoot, standing knock-kneed, hands clutched to her chest, her pretty face flushed crimson with pure terror.
Helpless, fragile, pitiable—a sight to melt anyone’s heart.
“M-M-M-Mad Rogue… You mad rogue!”
Iyefut Cape kept her Wind Barrier active at all times. Within the academy grounds, it wasn’t set to defend, but its sensing function was always on. Any creature with 【Mana】 crossing it pinged her instantly.
For some reason, though…
Both this time and the last, this Mad Rogue had slipped right past her detection.
“S-S-Sorry, Yi Ye.” In a situation like this, it was obviously his fault. He couldn’t just bolt.
Wait a minute.
He quickly touched his face. The mask was still there…
That “mad rogue” comment—had this woman seen through his disguise from the start?
No… That wasn’t the issue right now. The real problem was Iyefut, glaring daggers at him. She prized her noble poise above all, and now some guy had seen her half-naked. In that instant, her eyes flashed red, her fists clenched tight.
“You mad rogue… How dare you take advantage of my favor like this!?”
What the hell did “take advantage of my favor” even mean?
When had she ever favored him?
Sang was utterly baffled. Iyefut Cape really was one baffling young lady—her words made zero sense.
Even wrapped in her towel, Iyefut launched her attack on the spot. Without a blade handy, it was all fists and feet. In the cramped shower room, Sang dodged and blocked while trying to explain.
“Sorry, there were circumstances…”
“Shut up, you mad rogue!”
Iyefut only got fiercer. Afraid of drawing outside attention if this kept up, Sang turned the tables. He wall-slammed her against the wall, pinned her wrists, and yanked off his mask.
“Cut it out. You’re wrapped in a towel—what’s there to see? Just some wet, rainbow-gradient long hair? A flawless face? A neck like white jade? That drool-worthy collarbone and perfectly sized breasts? Slender arms like spring onions? Long legs whiter than snow? Cute little feet? Come on, what do you take me for? Like I’ve never seen a real show before. Nothing special—making a big fuss over nothing… Listen up: sorry!”
Hearing the young man’s words…
Oh my god, he’s so dominant.
Iyefut froze in shock, her heart even skipping a beat.
This guy… just complimented my entire body. Her paper-pale cheeks bloomed pink. She turned her face away, averting her eyes, fidgeting as she mumbled, “I-I’m not as perfect as you make me sound…”
Sang snapped back to reality.
Oh… I’d just said something really weird.
Suddenly, those two Blood Race women’s voices sounded from outside again.
“Oh, we’ve found the source of the blood—it’s right here…”
“Isn’t this the women’s shower room? I think Lady Iyefut is still inside…”
Growing concerned, they knocked on the door and called out, “Lady Iyefut, we smelled human blood out here. Are you alright?”
At that moment.
Sang was still wall-slamming Iyefut in a pose that was decidedly not child-friendly. Their heights were about even, so it lacked that overpowering dominance—more of a level gaze. Wisps of steam added a hazy, intimate air.
Sang shot Iyefut a pleading look at the voices outside. Blushing furiously, she glanced at the door and stammered, “I-I…”
As something of an airheaded sweetheart otaku girl, Iyefut wasn’t great at lying in casual settings—especially not in a moment this charged. Her brain had flatlined.
Sang traced a finger in her palm: Takeout.
Iyefut got it instantly. “Oh… I just finished sword class and got hungry, so I’m eating in here…”
Eating, of course, meant drinking blood.
“Not bad for the Duke’s Daughter—your food must be divine. We won’t disturb you then. Goodbye.”
Once the voices outside faded away, both Sang and Iyefut let out long sighs of relief.
But then.
As Iyefut took a deep breath, her chest rose and fell, and the towel slipped free.
In an instant, spring scenery filled the room. The young man stared, dumbfounded.
