The Academy's Doomed Side Character-Chapter 198: Wrestling At 3 In The Morning [2]

3rd POV.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind him.

Rin stood still for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

His face looked the same. Same wide eyes. Same soft jawline. Same fragile expression he wore like armor.

But it didn’t feel like his face anymore.

He reached up, touching his cheek. His skin was cold.

That moment at the door—he hadn’t meant to release that. It just... slipped.

The pressure, the instincts, the presence—it had surged forward on its own, as if testing how far it could go now. As if Lan had stirred something deep within him that couldn’t be put back.

He hadn’t even realized Leona would sense it. Or maybe part of him wanted her to. Maybe he had wanted someone to notice how different he was now.

He turned the faucet on and splashed water on his face.

"...Calm down."

His voice was barely a whisper.

That presence, that raw pressure—it wasn’t just from the training. It was from the bond with Lan. From what he’d done to awaken it. From the trial he passed and the consciousness still speaking inside the blade.

He couldn’t tell her. Not yet.

Not until he understood what he’d become.

And not until he could control whatever it was that now lingered just beneath his skin—waiting for the right moment to break loose again.

He looked at himself one more time, then wiped his face with a towel and stepped back into the room.

Leona was seated at the edge of the window, arms crossed, watching him from the corner of her eye.

He gave her a tired smile.

"Thanks for waiting."

She didn’t smile back.

Rin sat down on his bed, pretending not to notice how her gaze hadn’t softened.

Inside, the voice of Zhao echoed again, soft and amused.

—She seems clever. Her instincts are top notch.

----

Rin’s POV

—She seems clever. Her instincts are top-notch.

’Yeah, well... that’s true.’

Except it wasn’t really about instincts. Leona wasn’t some sharp detective sniffing out truths with a magnifying glass.

The only reason she noticed something off about me was because of that weird relic she carries around—one that reacts whenever someone with strong energy is nearby. A leftover from her objective or something. Whatever the case, it usually ignored tools or weapons, so I figured I was safe.

Guess I was wrong.

’Wait a minute... this is your fault too, you know?’

—Hmm. I suddenly remembered I have... errands to run. Yes. Very urgent. I won’t be able to respond if you call me for a while. Take care!

...He just ghosted me.

Really? The former strongest being in the world just ditched me with the magical equivalent of "Sorry, I left the stove on"?

I wanted to bang my head against the wall. But instead, I looked up—and met Leona’s eyes.

She was still staring at me. Intently. Like she was studying an ancient puzzle, or deciding if I’d been possessed by a demon.

"Leon... why are you looking at me like that?" I asked cautiously.

No response.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. She stepped closer.

Okay. This was starting to feel less "worried roommate" and more "CSI interrogation."

And then—

"Hey... I might’ve grabbed your shoulder a little hard earlier. Does it hurt?"

Huh?

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I blinked. "No. It doesn’t hurt. It’s fine."

"Let me see."

"...See what?"

"Your shoulder," she said, already reaching for the hem of my shirt. "What if it’s bruised or something? Just take your shirt off real quick."

What.

WHAT?

"U-Uh? No, really—it’s not that bad," I said, backing away like a cornered cat. "It’s just a shoulder. Shoulders are built for grabbing. Mine’s sturdy."

Leona gave me a flat look. "What if it’s injured and gets worse later? Just hold still."

"How would taking my shirt off help!? You have X-ray vision now?!"

—Even if it’s small, an injury is an injury. What if it festers? Just let her check.

’Shut UP, Ryen—wait, you’re not even here!’

My mind flashed back to the original novel. Specifically, the part where Ryen tried to help Leona clean a wound during a crisis and she slapped his hand away with a death glare like he’d committed a federal crime.

She hated being touched. Hated guys fussing over her. So why was she suddenly playing nurse with me?

This was uncharted territory. And terrifying.

"I swear, it really doesn’t hurt," I said, frantically trying to protect both my dignity and my shirt. "Why don’t you just trust me?"

Leona looked at me like I was the weird one. "I’ll confirm it myself, thanks."

"Confirm what!? You’re acting like this is a hostage negotiation!"

She reached again.

I spun, dodged, and took cover behind the table.

She stared at me, unimpressed. "You’re making this weird."

"I’m making it—?! I’m not the one trying to strip-search a perfectly fine shoulder!"

She sighed dramatically, biting into it like she was already regretting this conversation.

"You’re so dramatic," Leona muttered under her breath.

Says the girl who hisses like a feral cat if anyone so much as bumps into her in the hallway.

But she didn’t stop advancing.

There was a weird, unspoken battle going on between us—a silent clash of wills. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t a battle I could win.

Leona’s strength wasn’t just physical. She had this overwhelming presence, this confidence, like a lioness ready to pounce on a particularly mouthy rabbit.

And, well, right now? I was the rabbit. Flat on my back. Her knees pinning me down like it was a Tuesday afternoon wrestling match.

"You shouldn’t have resisted in the first place," she said, brushing her hair back like this was a routine thing. "You’re no match for me."

Yeah, thanks. I know that. No need to keep rubbing it in.

Seriously, what is wrong with this girl?

Also—can we take a moment to acknowledge it’s three in the morning? This is the time normal people sleep, not play fight until someone gets sat on like a beanbag.

I briefly worried what the neighbors might think... but then remembered the walls were soundproof. Of course they were. This academy doesn’t miss a single detail—except common sense.

And then, as if the situation wasn’t already enough of a fever dream, Leona suddenly remembered her original goal—whatever that was—and started unbuttoning my shirt.

My brain short-circuited.

I closed my eyes. I figured maybe this was it. My final form: embarrassed, mildly terrified, and mildly shirtless.

I decided to accept my fate with whatever dignity I had left.

But then... her hand stopped.

...Wait.

Why did she stop?

Is this some kind of test?

Did I fail?

I cracked one eye open—and saw her face.

Red. Flushed. Like she’d just realized what she was actually doing.

Hold on.

Is she... embarrassed?

This was not the reaction I was expecting. In the novel, this version of Leona only showed that kind of expression somewhere around late third year. You know, after they had emotionally scarred each other for three semesters.

"Your skin is... really pale," she mumbled, clearly trying to distract herself from the fact that she was still straddling me like a confused assassin.

"...Thanks?" I said, unsure whether I was supposed to be flattered or insulted.

Her fingers brushed my side, making me flinch.

"Your arms are too thin. Your legs too." Her voice was quieter now, like she was making notes for a future intervention. "You’re... fragile."

"Um. This feels less like a compliment and more like you’re evaluating a sick bird."

"A sick bird wouldn’t mouth off like you."

"Fair point."

Her hand grazed my stomach again and I instinctively sucked it in. Too late.

"...Are you flexing?"

"No—yes—look, it’s just reflex, okay?!"

She snorted. Actually snorted.

That was when I knew: she was letting her guard down.

And I wasn’t sure whether I should be more concerned about the girl currently pinning me down... or the one who seemed genuinely interested in cataloging how breakable my bones were.

One thing was certain though.

I was never letting my guard down around Leona again.

Not at 3 a.m.

Not when she looked that smug.

And definitely not while she was inspecting my ribcage like a museum artifact.

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