***

Leila faced Zain in a defensive stance, holding Black Rose and gazing at her hand. Her arms shivered, and her nerves tingled with anticipation in her stomach. She recalled from their last fight that she hadn't hit him at all. She felt somewhere small inside her; it would be the same today. 

Although the thought didn't last, it still affected her confidence. She was inexperienced with daggers, as evident from their previous battle, and a few days of training wouldn't change that.

But the rest of the day off was too much not to try. As idealistic and unrealistic as it felt to her, she wanted to believe he would go through with it if she won. Though her gut told her not to believe it—that Zain had proven over time that his words were always laced with lies. He hadn’t shown any signs of lying when he said he would not scheme, but that only made her more suspicious.

She continued sparring despite everything. If it were a scheme, losing would yield the same outcome as winning. If it wasn't, she received half a day off to avoid Zain.

"Are you going to start? You've been standing there for five minutes."

She watched Zain finish massaging his neck, holding his sword in a loose grip at his side. His shoulders were straight, but he appeared slumped. Relaxed, she noticed numerous openings in his guard.

Like an amateur, but...

Not. As numerous as the openings were, she recognized them as bait. His smile clearly showed that fact. And since Zain preferred manipulation and teasing, she wasn't surprised. It was impossible to determine if any of these openings were real. The clock was ticking, and she couldn't afford to waste time.

Leila sprinted towards Zain, realizing a boost in her speed that she hadn't noticed before. She moved faster than her current stats indicated, with her strength being as high. Within seconds, she arrived before him, slashing at his closest opening.

"You're much faster than before," Zain said, sidestepping with one foot out. "But speed without technique won't do. If this is all you have, you are months away from touching me with that dagger. You'll stay with me tonight, then.”

She tripped over his foot and fell head-first to the ground, her chest cushioning the impact. She grimaced in pain as she spat out the grass and dirt that had entered her mouth.

That bastard. Did he really?—he did—how dare he?! Rage surged and erupted. She jumped to her feet, attacking from behind, and he followed with the same move. A side-step, with his foot out, and she tripped—a hard-hitting tickle in her stomach closing the lid of the boiling pot of rage.

"Letting your emotions control you will not help. For someone once chosen as the hero, you are unfit.”

She calmed herself, feeling moisture dampen her underwear. Zain had removed two of the restrictions on the crest, yet she violated the one that remained within seconds of starting. The stress must have overwhelmed her, and she snapped. The sword technique she had mastered was not applicable to daggers. Her posture, movements, and offensive and defensive techniques were ineffective in this body, as its strengths clashed with them.

If I want to defeat him, I must either recreate my technique or integrate the old one into the new. He’s right. At this pace, it would take months to reach him, but I don't have that luxury. I’m changing on a near-daily basis, and by that time, I’ll be his.

She forced herself up, fueled by the determination to win. She attacked him from behind, targeting his lower back.

Zain sidestepped, placing his foot out with a provocative look in his eye, but she didn't fall to the ground. She caught herself, turning her fall into a handstand kick or something resembling one. She failed, creating a subpar version, and still crashed to the ground. Her foot missed him, but she made him step back. Something he had not done yet.

"That's better," he smiled. "I wouldn't recommend flashing your skirt. I'm sure you're okay with me seeing it, but the others..."

"Don't look!" she exclaimed, jumping up and tugging at her shirt, inadvertently flaunting more. Her face turned red.

Why does he have to make a circus out of me? She breathed, bringing back her lost composure.

"And focus on the fight.” She rushed again, deciding to ignore his provocations, and gave a quick right jab to Zain's side.

Zain evaded to the left, but she didn’t let him. She followed right after him, swinging Black Rose horizontally.

Zain, for the first time in this spar, chose to deflect her attack with his sword instead of dodging. Throwing her off balance with his deflection, he advanced, and he struck her foot at the spot that kept her standing, and she slammed to the ground for the fourth time.

“You forced my hand. I’m impressed…”

Leila glared up at him, spitting out the dirt and grass in her mouth, but the sandy, salty taste lingered. Zain had a genuine smile, resembling an angel in devilish armor, as if he hadn't just done what he did.

"But you still have a long way to go. Let's address your trip issue." Zain's eyes met hers, shrinking into two crescents as he remarked, "Last spar as well; you kept tripping over yourself. I will teach you how to maintain balance in a fight."

His gentle and kind voice reflected his seriousness and determination. However, beneath the surface and through recent experiences, she knew he was tempting her. As if saying she was already set to fail even with an hour left in class.

"I'll do it," Leila said, seeking empowerment. But as she stood up, she sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. "I'll land a hit."

“Prove it.”

And she didn’t.

Zain was faster, stronger, and more skilled than anyone she had met. During the spar, Leila didn't come closer than she did when she tripped the fourth time. With each iteration, Zain increased the difficulty as she improved her balance. The spar ended feeling ashamed, depressed, and exhausted, sprawled on the ground, and breathing heavily.

She was covered from head to toe in dirt and grass shavings. Her clothing had several tears, with the top two buttons missing, revealing the top of her cleavage with her collar in a slight V-shape. The emotions that sparked from that had lingered until now, boiling in a pot with the others, which she kept in check. Her arms, face, and legs were bruised, now a purplish-blue color. 

Above anything else, she was irked by the fact that her clothes were ruined and she would need to throw them away. The uniform was cute, but it wasn’t as bad as losing her lingerie. Wait, why am I so upset about this? Sure, the clothing did fit snugly and was comfortable, but there was no fondness for it.

"Then it's decided." He approached her with a victorious stride. His sword disappeared, and he grasped her right shoulder. He cleaned her body and fixed her clothes, relieving the pain that had urged her to rest. At this sight, without even thinking about it, she smiled at him.

“You’re welcome. I wanted to make it up to you for pushing you so hard. I’m happy to see that you’re starting to show gratitude for what I’m doing for you.” He dropped his hand down to her waist and pulled her into him. "For that, I'll teach you seduction techniques and a few magic spells. Is that alright?"

Leila half-nodded. With physical exhaustion gone, she was left with mental fatigue that his spell couldn't heal. It was there, but she still had some energy left to spare.

"I'll manage," Leila said softly.

"Are you sure? We can do it later." Zain suggested. "I think you should use this time to rest."

"No—no. I'm fine."

"Sleep!" he ordered, and her vision darkened. She tried to resist, forcing herself awake, but Zain's order was absolute, and she drifted to sleep, hearing his last words.

“Sleep well. You’ll need it.”

The last thing she felt was Zain lifting her off her feet into a princess carry, and she fell into a dream—one unlike any others before.