I bolted down the hallway like my life depended on it.
Maybe it didn’t.
But my pride? Yeah, that was hanging by a thread.
Behind me, I could hear the thunder of his footsteps pounding after me, along with the occasional, furious shout of—
"Get back here, you coward!"
Coward?
Excuse me. Cowards hide in closets or fake an illness to skip confrontation.
I was executing a well-calculated, strategic withdrawal.
Big difference.
I skidded around a corner, narrowly dodging a group of unsuspecting first-years. A few of them yelped; one kid dropped their lunch tray with a dramatic crash.
Sorry, buddy. It’s every man for himself in times of war.
I didn’t even know where I was headed—maybe the library, maybe the rooftop, maybe the nearest faculty office. Wherever fate would take me. As long as it wasn’t within arm’s reach of Mr. Testosterone Tantrum.
"You think you can run forever?!"
I didn’t answer.
Partly because I didn’t want to.
Mostly because I was wheezing like an old man climbing stairs in a thunderstorm.
What I hadn’t accounted for, though, was the huge difference between my stamina and his. And spoiler alert—it wasn’t in my favor.
Barely five minutes later, I could already hear his breathing getting closer.
Much closer.
Like he was right behind me and about to reach out and tap my shoulder with a "Gotcha."
Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself harder, legs screaming in protest as I forced out one last desperate burst of speed.
And then—
"Ouch!"
The scream came a second too late.
I tripped.
Except, instead of slamming into the cold, cruel floor like I expected, I landed on something... soft.
Warm.
Definitely not the stone tiles I’d mentally prepared to meet.
It was almost too soft.
Like someone had installed luxury sofa cushions in the hallway overnight.
Stunned and blinking, I looked up.
That smell—lavender and ink.
That sensation—graceful but firm.
And that familiar, terrifying aura—
"P-Professor Lena...?"
She looked down at me, one brow arched, arms folded across her chest. Her sharp eyes gleamed with quiet fury, and her voice dropped into a tone that could freeze lava.
"What’s going on here?"
Behind me, the boar—aka Mr. Delinquent Crush—visibly stiffened. Even his steps faltered.
I didn’t blame him. You’d have to be absolutely out of your mind to say, "Oh, nothing, just trying to beat the crap out of this guy," in front of a current A-rank hero.
He wasn’t that stupid.
My heartbeat, which had been racing with fear, finally began to settle.
Because in that moment, seeing Professor Lena—my unspoken guardian angel—standing there with her arms crossed and her fury dialed to max?
I felt safe.
Like someone had dropped divine intervention straight out of the heavens just for me.
Professor Lena stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her sharp gaze locked on the boar-like student towering behind me.
Her voice was calm—but laced with steel.
"I’m asking you, cadet... what’s going on here?"
The guy flinched. Hard. His face went pale, and his gaze dropped to the floor like it owed him money.
"It’s nothing, Professor. We were just, uh... playing around! Yeah, just a joke. Really."
Lena’s brow twitched, a frown pulling at her lips. It was obvious she didn’t buy a single word of it—but she wasn’t about to act on suspicion alone. Not without confirmation.
"I see," she said slowly. "A joke, you say? Then I assume Cadet Rin Evans would say the same thing... yes?"
The air went still.
Just one word from me, and that guy was done for. Lena would crush him without hesitation. She hated bullying. If she found out he was harassing a fellow cadet—especially someone like me—she’d make sure he never saw the inside of a lecture hall again.
He’d be lucky to leave with his bones intact.
Now look at you, trembling like a scared cub. That’s what you get for picking on me.
Karma’s a real thing, huh?
I could already see it. Expelled from Velcrest Academy. Goodbye future. Goodbye pride.
Serves you right, dumbass.
...Just kidding.
I let out a breath and looked at Lena.
I couldn’t let him get expelled.
Maybe it was stupid, but... in my past life, I was an orphan. I knew how valuable it was—how life-changing it could be, The education that is.
Even for a guy like him.
So I sighed and said, "Yes, Professor. It was just a joke. We were messing around... I lost my balance and fell."
There was a long silence.
The boar-like guy blinked, stunned. Like he couldn’t believe I’d just covered for him.
Lena’s expression twisted slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she couldn’t understand what she just heard.
She didn’t say anything right away. Just stood there, staring between us with a cold expression that didn’t quite fade.
Something in her jaw tightened, but eventually, she let out a breath.
"...Very well," she said slowly. "If that’s the case, I’ll take your word for it."
Then she looked directly at the guy behind me.
"But I’ll be watching."
And just like that, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the stone tiles, leaving behind a suffocating silence.
I didn’t look at the boar.
I just stared at the floor and muttered under my breath, "You owe me."
And I meant it.
As soon as Lena disappeared around the corner, the tension that had been holding my spine straight finally uncoiled.
I could feel the eyes of the boar—hell, let’s just call him Boris at this point—burning into the back of my head like he was trying to figure out why I’d saved him.
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a glance.
He opened his mouth to say something—probably a weak "Thanks" or some half-baked excuse to justify what just happened.
"Don’t," I cut him off before a syllable escaped.
"You still owe me. Just keep your head down and don’t mess with anyone else."
He stood there awkwardly, like a statue trying to process emotion. Then he mumbled something that vaguely resembled agreement and shuffled off, shoulders hunched like a scolded dog.
Good.
Now I could breathe.
I leaned against the stone wall, rubbing the back of my neck. My heart was still beating a little too fast, and my legs were screaming at me for standing so tense for so long.
Honestly, I should’ve let Lena teach him a lesson. But that’s the thing about having a past filled with nothing but hardship—sometimes it makes you soft in weird places.
I don’t like bullies, but I hate wasted potential more.
Still, that didn’t mean I forgave him. It just meant I wasn’t his judge and executioner today.
I looked up at the sky—clouds drifting lazily by, as if the world wasn’t just minutes away from watching me get bodied by a guy twice my size.
"Man," I muttered to myself, "this place is exhausting."