Chapter 22: Club Activities (3)
Anastasia had already planned to join the Swordsmanship Club, regardless of the others.
Considering she had been closer to a sword than anyone else except her parents since childhood, it was only natural.
Yet, she couldn’t quite explain why she tried to avoid Han Dogeon and Hoyeon on the way to the gymnasium. Simply looking at them filled her with a strange sense of guilt.
This feeling stemmed from her assumption. After seeing Hoyeon enter Dogeon’s room that night, Anastasia had already concluded that the two had a child together.
Even after arriving at Gymnasium 1, her mind wouldn’t settle.
It was only after the typical exchange of, “Are you the new members?” “Yes, we are,” with someone who appeared to be the club representative, and she finally managed to calm down.
“We have a lot of new members this year! Hmm, I’m Jessica, the vice-leader of the Swordsmanship Club.
Normally, the leader would be the one hosting this welcome event, but they’ve been pretty busy lately, so they handed it over to me.”
Jessica spoke cheerfully, gesturing toward a group of people who seemed to be members of the club.
They stepped forward, carrying large bundles on their backs. From these bundles, they began pulling out wooden training dummies, each scarred with countless blade marks.
While most of the new members didn’t seem to grasp their purpose, Anastasia could guess what was coming. Her swordsmanship instructor had made her do something similar when they first met.
“So, I’ve decided to do things my way this year! First off, let’s take a look at your skills!”
Anastasia’s hand unconsciously moved to the hilt of her sword.
The rest of Jessica’s words weren’t particularly important to her. All she cared about was when her turn would come.
The first spot? No, that would draw too much attention. The second? The third? She weighed her options, wondering which position would attract the least scrutiny.
What she overlooked, however, was that as the daughter of the Northern Grand Duke, any position would inevitably attract attention.
While Anastasia debated internally, a student voiced a skeptical question.
“…Is that really all there is? How can you assess our skills just by hitting those wooden dummies?”
“Good question, whoever you are!” Jessica replied with a laugh. “You’re right, this won’t give us a perfect measure of your abilities. It’s more to get a general sense of your level—your stance, your targeting, the strength behind your strikes… that sort of thing. I’ve got a decent eye for swordsmanship. While I’m not as sharp as the leader, I can usually tell what level someone’s at.”
“Then why bother dividing us by skill levels?”
Jessica chuckled. “Because you can’t give beginner lessons to someone at an expert level, can you?”
The student who raised the issue seemed satisfied with her answer. Jessica scanned the group, searching for her first participant.
Her gaze landed on someone unusual—a girl with black strands woven into her white hair, and animal-like ears that stood out starkly.
This was Hoyeon, the “unwelcome guest from the East” that circulated in whispers among the aristocracy. Jessica had heard rumors of her coming to the academy but didn’t expect her to join the Swordsmanship Club.
Driven purely by curiosity, Jessica called her out. Despite being stationed in the provinces, Jessica had heard the infamous tale: the girl guarded by warriors who subdued an entire knightly order and demanded safe passage in exchange for their ransom. Jessica couldn’t help but wonder—what level of skill did someone under the protection of such warriors possess?
Though another student with silver hair and a hand resting on her sword caught Jessica’s eye, her curiosity about Hoyeon outweighed it.
“How about you, Miss Tiger Beastkin over there? Would you like to go first?”
Why me?
Jessica’s choice felt like an act of betrayal. Out of all the people here, why had she chosen me over Anastasia, who was practically itching to volunteer?
The mere thought of standing in front of everyone made my stomach churn. My father had already said I lacked any talent for swordsmanship, and now I had to prove it in public?
During PE class, at least I could go last. This time, I was first.
My tail swished nervously, betraying my anxiety.
I’d always thought public humiliation came in the form of mockery and laughter. I never imagined it would take the form of this.
Though my feet felt like they were glued to the floor, everyone’s stares left me no choice but to move.
“Nervous about being the first?” Jessica asked.
Wouldn’t anyone be? Do you think I’d be smiling right now?
“That would be a lie,” I replied bluntly.
“Don’t worry! No one’s going to judge you for doing badly. Just give it a few swings and see how it feels. Relax!”
Yeah, great advice. That just makes it worse. Pressure like that never helped anyone relax.
“…Fine,” I sighed.
“Don’t be so tense! Just give it a shot!”
As I steadied my breath, I realized something important: I didn’t have a sword.
How would this look to others? Showing up to join the Swordsmanship Club without a sword?
Maybe this was my chance to back out. After all, you can’t swing a sword if you don’t have one, right?
“I don’t have a sword.”
But my hopes were dashed.
“Really? Then here, borrow mine! It might not feel the same as what you’re used to, so swing it around a bit and tell me if it’s uncomfortable. If it doesn’t suit you, we’ll find something else!”
Her relentless cheerfulness left me mortified. The fact that someone cared so much about my swordsmanship—or rather, cared enough to not let me escape—was humiliating.
I couldn’t help but recall a middle school music assessment when I forgot my recorder, and the teacher made a classmate lend me theirs.
The look on their face screamed how much they hated it, and I felt terrible borrowing it. In the end, I played terribly and ruined my score, which only made the whole experience worse.
The borrowed sword felt heavier than expected, though that might have been psychological.
Jessica was probably skilled in mana breathing or something, so this weight didn’t bother her. For me, though, it felt unbearable.
I hadn’t touched a sword in over five years, let alone wielded a real one. Running away seemed impossible now that I’d accepted the sword.
They say once you draw a sword, you have to cut something.
Remembering that phrase helped steel my resolve. Rather than flee, I decided to face this head-on.
My father used to cut down trees effortlessly with his sword when I was young. Even if I lacked talent, surely I could at least leave a mark on a wooden dummy as his daughter.
The dummy was already covered in scars, so it didn’t seem particularly reinforced. Swinging the borrowed sword experimentally, I found it manageable, albeit heavy. Maybe starting with a real blade wasn’t so bad after all.
Gripping the hilt firmly, I adjusted my stance. A baseless confidence welled up inside me. Surely, I could manage a single strike. Iron should at least dent wood, right?
Summoning the image of my father’s flawless trajectory, I swung.
“Haaah!”
It was hopeless.
To my dismay—or perhaps relief—the dummy bore only a shallow scratch.
My father wasn’t this weak. My father wasn’t this slow. If he were here instead of me, that dummy would have been sliced into seventeen pieces in an instant.
From the first swing, everything felt wrong. I hadn’t even dropped the sword, yet my confidence plummeted.
Jessica’s gaze, once filled with curiosity, now seemed like she was observing something odd.
“…Have you trained in swordsmanship before?” she asked.
It sounded polite, but I couldn’t help hearing, “You’re awful at this.”
“My father taught me a little when I was younger,” I admitted, hating myself for dragging his name into this.
Jessica didn’t press further, much to my relief. If she had made any remarks about my father’s teaching, I might have died of embarrassment.
“Alright, then. Next! You there, silver-haired girl playing with her sword, your turn.”
As I trudged back to my seat, I felt everyone’s stares. It was as if they were scrutinizing some strange object, their gazes stabbing into me like nails.
Why was everything falling apart on the first day? Even Dogeon’s awkward attempt to console me was grating.
“That was amazing! Such a smooth trajectory and quick strikes. Few students could match that!”
“It was terrible. My speed and technique were a mess. Stop exaggerating.”
His forced flattery felt more like mockery.
Dogeon looked uneasy, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to sit and watch the others swing their swords.
Thankfully, Anastasia stepped up next, ready to take her turn. I decided to focus on her instead.