Chapter 171

The silver-haired woman, Yuki, had her own personal gym.If someone else were to hear about this, they might respond with something like:

“Are you an athlete?”

or

“You must really love working out.”

And nine times out of ten, they would tilt their head in confusion.

At least outwardly, Yuki didn’t look like someone who enjoyed exercising.

She wasn’t so delicate that she looked like she might snap with a slight push, but she also didn’t give off the appearance of someone particularly athletic.

Her figure exuded a healthy beauty, and her features were strikingly elegant.

However, her unique languid demeanor made it hard to associate her with the image of an active individual.

Contrary to appearances, Yuki actually enjoyed physical activity.

…Though what she really enjoyed was fighting other people.

Still, it counted as physical activity, didn’t it?

It was a kind of escape she found as someone with natural talent who had grown numb to ordinary competition.

In any case, Yuki had poured the prize money she had won from various competitions, along with other funds she had saved, into building a gym.

It wasn’t particularly large, but it wasn’t cramped either—a small, functional space.

She had purchased the land, constructed a single-story building, and ensured it could be maintained without issue.

Thankfully, the gym was located in a slightly remote area. If it had been in the middle of Seoul, purchasing the land would have been impossible.

Though it was a bit of a hassle to get to the gym because of the location—

“I’m so glad I built this.”

The building, which she had impulsively constructed to have a place to exercise alone, had turned out to be one of the best decisions of her life.

To be able to hold a real sword and spar with someone as though it were an actual battle.

As far as Yuki knew, there wasn’t any other place in Korea where such a thing was possible.

If anyone found out that Yuki was sparring with real swords, she would undoubtedly become the main story on the evening news:

“Athletic Prodigy Stirs Korea… Turns Out She’s a Psychopath?”

Yuki wasn’t a psychopath, of course, but she was aware that her sensibilities differed greatly from those of the average person. Even so, she doubted such news would bother her much.

‘…I need to be careful.’

If she were caught, she would undoubtedly lose her current lifestyle. Determined to avoid that, she steeled her resolve once more and opened the gym door.

As soon as she opened it, a scream pierced her ears.

“Ahhh! Someone save me!”

“Don’t worry. People don’t die that easily.”

Then, she saw Kana tilting her pink head slightly.

“…Or maybe they do.”

“See?! Aaaah, the little brat’s going to kill me!”

“Little brat…?” Sёarch* The Novёlƒire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Kana, who had been tilting her head adorably, suddenly froze.

What followed was a scene of carnage so gruesome that, as they say, “words could not do it justice…”

“What carnage are you even talking about?”

Although Yuki wasn’t particularly close to the scene, nor was anyone speaking loudly, Kana glared at her.

For someone like Kana, who had already noticed Yuki’s presence and been paying attention to her, overhearing Yuki’s muttered words wasn’t difficult.

Kana turned her back to the body sprawled on the floor.

As Kana averted her gaze, Yuki also looked away, leaving the “body” abandoned and forlorn on the gym floor.

“I… I’m not dead yet…”

“Oh. You’re alive.”

“I was never dead in the first place…”

“See? I told you people don’t die that easily.”

Between Yuki and Kana’s nonchalant remarks, the “body”—Shin Da-eun—began to stagger to her feet.

Da-eun’s appearance showed no visible injuries, but her face looked so haggard that one might mistake her for an invalid.

Yuki glanced at Da-eun’s face and commented,

“Is it really that exhausting?”

Da-eun waved her hand weakly.

“Don’t even mention it. I really thought I was going to die.”

Their conversation flowed naturally.

A week ago, the two had spoken politely to each other, but now they addressed one another casually, like old friends.

It wasn’t surprising, given that they were the same age.

“Yuki, you wouldn’t know until you try it…”

Da-eun trailed off mid-complaint.

She realized that Yuki’s training was far more grueling than her own.

Yuki’s brows furrowed slightly.

“I’m not changing it.”

“…I wasn’t even planning to ask you to.”

Yuki had assumed Da-eun would suggest switching their training regimens, but Da-eun hadn’t even considered such a thing.

If Da-eun had suggested swapping their routines, it would have meant one of two things: either she had completely lost her mind, or someone was holding a sword to her throat, forcing her to make the suggestion.

“Let’s rest for a bit, okay? Honestly, we’ve been at it since morning…”

“I’m already resting.”

Kana raised an eyebrow but willingly agreed to Da-eun’s plea for a break.

As Yuki quietly observed the exchange, she let out a soft hum.

“Hmm.”

“…What?”

“Nothing.”

…It felt like her expressions had become richer compared to before.

As I had once confided to Da-eun, Yuki had rewatched Da-eun’s broadcasts countless times.

From the moment she first met Kana to the conclusion of their journey, she analyzed everything.

To overcome the wall that stood in her way.

And to reach the towering mountain that lay beyond.



Yuki watched those broadcasts endlessly, dissecting every move Kana made.

From her gait and posture to how she shifted her center of gravity and even her minor habits.

Thanks to that, she came to understand Kana—and noticed the changes in her.

Though her expressions were still mostly monochrome, Yuki could see that her face had grown far more animated than before.

It was like a bud just beginning to sprout.

Or perhaps a flower that had finished preparing to bloom.

Still, Yuki kept these thoughts to herself.

After all, the only thing that mattered to her about Kana was her martial prowess. Everything else was secondary.

‘…Or maybe it’s not entirely irrelevant?’

If Kana softened a bit, wouldn’t she be more willing to accept sparring requests?

Thinking this might be possible, Yuki nodded in agreement with herself, unaware of Kana’s reluctant gaze.

***

Over the past week, I had learned quite a bit about Yuki.

For instance, the name “Yuki,” which she used as her broadcast ID, was her real name. She was a mixed-race child born to Korean and Japanese parents.

She preferred meat over vegetables but wasn’t particularly picky about food.

She had dominated various athletic competitions since childhood.

And, most surprisingly, she was far crazier than I had initially thought.

“How can someone even like that kind of thing?”

“That’s because you’re the strange one, Kana.”

When I muttered in disbelief, Da-eun retorted in an exasperated tone.

As our eyes met, she quickly turned her head away.

I had no intention of interrupting her break or forcing her back into training over one comment.

Didn’t she realize that reacting like that only made me want to tease her more?

“If you check the internet, most people say they prefer meat over vegetables.”

“Sure, they prefer it. But there aren’t that many people as extreme as Kana. Honestly, how do you not gain weight eating like that…?”

Her gaze was filled with envy and a bit of jealousy.

Meanwhile, Yuki, who had been sprawled out on the floor after being knocked down earlier, suddenly sprang up.

“I feel the same way. It’s strange, considering how calorie-dense and sodium-laden it all is.”

I didn’t expect someone like Yuki, who seemed obsessed with fighting and adrenaline, to care about such things.

It was a surprising observation.

“Your body has to be healthy to fight better.”

“…Right. Of course, you’d think that.”

That thought didn’t last long.

Da-eun, echoing my sentiments, wore a tired expression as she responded to Yuki’s statement.

Her words perfectly captured my own feelings, and I nodded in agreement.

The statement itself wasn’t wrong—if anything, it was textbook logic.

But it wasn’t something you’d expect to hear from a regular person.

Most people, when asked why they work out, would say it’s for their health.

How many would answer, “To fight better”?

Still, neither Da-eun nor I found it strange anymore, as we had grown used to Yuki’s peculiar responses.

“So, how long do we have to keep doing this?”

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to…”

At the subtle question, Da-eun hesitated and avoided my gaze.

“We didn’t do it like this at first.”

“That’s true.”

“Then why are we doing it this way now?”

“…Hmm.”

Come to think of it, I hadn’t explained it to her.

The training… or whatever you’d call it.

Originally, Da-eun’s training involved flowing mana into her to help her sense its movement.

It wasn’t meant for physical conditioning, but it was the fastest method to teach her to manipulate mana.

My calculations, however, were thrown off shortly after I started teaching Yuki.

“Like this…? Oh, I got it.”

Yuki succeeded in moving mana only a few days after I started teaching her.

Though she had merely achieved “movement” without any precision or application, it was still a shocking feat.

When a stunned Da-eun asked how she managed it, Yuki answered,

“It’s similar to what I did in Silia, so it just worked.”

…Was this the outcome Edel had intended?

That thought led me to change the way I taught Da-eun.

Trying to teach her to manipulate mana without any physical conditioning was a flawed approach.

I had to admit, I had been slightly mistaken.

“If you eat chocolate after completely exhausting yourself, doesn’t it taste sweeter?”

In the same vein, flowing mana into someone when they’re utterly drained might make them feel it more acutely.

So, I started pushing Da-eun harder.

The new training method involved exhausting her through physical activity, such as exercises or sword swings, and then flowing mana into her.

Whether or not this approach would be effective remained to be seen.

After listening quietly to my lengthy explanation, Da-eun finally offered a counterpoint.

“If you push too hard, won’t it just make you less sensitive?”

“…I don’t know?”

When I tilted my head, Da-eun responded in disbelief.



“Wait, Kana, you’re supposed to know this stuff…”

Her remark wasn’t particularly helpful.

—

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