A Defeat All the Same

The hospital affiliated with Glory Kael Magic Academy, third floor, private room.

Moonlight filtered through the spotless window, casting a pool of cold silver light across the polished floor.

A faint scent of disinfectant mingled with some soothing medicinal herb hung in the air.

Victoria Cecil sat propped up in bed, a white sheet covering her to the waist. Thick bandages wrapped her exposed right arm and shoulder, with dark traces of ointment showing at the edges.

Her long gray hair lay somewhat disheveled over her shoulders. Her eyes, usually as sharp as blades, looked dull now as she gazed quietly into the deep night beyond the window.

Sylvia sat uneasily in the chair beside the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her pink eyes full of worry.

She had been keeping Victoria company like this for nearly two hours, trying every topic she could think of-tomorrow's classes, the cafeteria's new desserts, even trivial Academy rumors.

But Victoria mostly answered with a "Mm" or "Really?" so brief they were almost perfunctory, or simply remained silent.

Silence spread through the room once more.

Sylvia bit her lower lip, finally gathered her courage, and spoke cautiously, her voice so soft it seemed she feared disturbing something:

"Victoria... um, about today's match..."

Victoria turned her gaze from the window to her friend.

Her expression was calm, almost unnaturally so.

"I-it was just one match!"

Sylvia spoke urgently, as though reciting a speech she had prepared long ago:

"You really don't have to take it so hard! Princess Lilith... she started receiving the very best instruction early on, after all. And an advanced spell like Flame Explosion, even in an incomplete form, is still so powerful..."

She paused, realizing that sounded a little like she was making excuses for Victoria's opponent, and hastily corrected herself:

"What I mean is, you did really, really well! Honestly! Everyone saw how you adapted out there, and the way you used your spells... lots of upperclassmen were talking about it!"

She watched Victoria's expression carefully, trying to find some sign that she had softened or taken comfort, but Victoria merely listened quietly, her gray eyes unruffled.

Without realizing it, Sylvia lowered her voice, uncertainty and self-doubt creeping into it:

"And... and maybe Princess Lilith just... just got lucky..."

"Thank you, Sylvia."

Victoria finally spoke, cutting off Sylvia's increasingly unconvincing attempts at comfort. Her tone was steady, but gentle.

Her thanks were polite, and somewhat distant.

Sylvia opened her mouth, wanting to say more. But as she looked at Victoria's profile, turned toward the window again, and saw how clearly she wished to end the subject, every word she had prepared caught in her throat, leaving only a deeper sense of worry and helplessness.

She knew how much winning this match had mattered to Victoria.

Precisely because she knew, she understood all too well how hard this defeat had hit her.

This had not been an ordinary sparring match. Before everyone's eyes, in the crucial assessment that determined their class placements, she had lost to the Kingdom's princess, the girl showered with affection and expectations.

The news would inevitably give those in the Church who already questioned her identity as the Hero more ammunition.

Just then, a soft knock came at the door, and an older woman in a pristine white nurse's uniform opened it and leaned her head inside.

"Miss Sylvia."

The nurse spoke softly, with professional concern. "It's nearly time for the dormitory curfew. Miss Victoria needs to rest as well."

Sylvia abruptly came back to her senses and looked at the clock on the wall.

Its hands had indeed reached a dangerously late hour.

She hurriedly stood.

"Ah, y-yes! I'll leave right away!"

She turned to Victoria and said in a rush:

"Victoria, get some rest. I'll come see you again tomorrow! Your wounds... make sure you don't get them wet, and have the dressings changed on time. If they hurt during the night, or you feel unwell, call the nurse right away..."

"Mm, I will."

Victoria nodded, her expression still largely unchanged. "Be careful on your way back, Sylvia."

"You too... get some rest."

Sylvia took one last look at her friend. Wrapped in bandages beneath the moonlight and the room's cold white lights, Victoria looked especially frail and vulnerable.

Her heart clenched, but under the nurse's gentle gaze, she finally left the room, repeatedly glancing back before softly closing the door behind her.

Click.

The faint sound of the latch clicking shut seemed to seal away all the noise and concern of the outside world.

The room fell utterly silent.

The moonlight seemed a little colder.

Only after Sylvia's footsteps had faded completely at the end of the corridor did a crack finally appear in the mask Victoria had maintained for two hours.

Her straight back sagged almost imperceptibly. Her left hand, which had rested flat on the sheet all this time, slowly clenched, her knuckles paling slightly with the force.

Her gray eyes no longer looked out at the meaningless night. Instead, they lowered to her heavily bandaged right shoulder.

There, where the searing edge of Flame Explosion had grazed her skin, waves of burning pain still pulsed through the thick dressings and pain-relieving potion.

The pain was starkly clear, utterly real. Every throb reminded her of every detail of what had happened in the arena that afternoon.

She had lost.

It had not been a narrow defeat. Her tactics had been completely exposed, and before she could even launch the counterattack she had planned so long, her opponent had crushed her head-on with overwhelming power and anticipation.

Was it humiliating? Of course.

Did it leave her bitter? Without question.

But deeper still lay a cold, almost panicked sense of helplessness, mingled with profound doubts about the promise she had made.

Fragments of memory surged up uncontrollably, sharper than the pain of her wounds.

Flames and thick smoke rising into the sky over Border Village.

The savage howls of Demons and the dull sound of claws tearing through flesh.

Her father's broad, mountainlike back as he stood in the doorway, only to be swallowed by darkness in an instant.

The strength of her mother's final embrace as she pushed her into the cellar, and the almost desperate plea in her tear-filled eyes-"Live!"

I have to become stronger... strong enough to cut short every tragedy, strong enough to protect everything I cherish, strong enough... to take revenge on the Demons.

That was the vow she had made amid the ruins, the sole driving force that had carried her through countless grueling training sessions, endured others' cold looks and mockery, and made her drag herself up to hone her magic on every late night when she was exhausted nearly to death.

And when the weighty, blazing Hero's Blessing descended upon her, she had almost believed it was the world's answer to her, its acknowledgment of the path she had chosen.

But what had come of it?

She had lost her very first official duel since enrolling.

Lost to a pampered princess.

Her opponent had not even used any clever tactics or powerful magical devices. Talent and overwhelming fire magic alone had reduced her meticulously designed counterattack to nothing.

Could I... really make it to the end like this?

Could I really bear the name of Hero and fulfill that nearly impossible revenge and mission?

She began to doubt herself.