---

The world had gone quiet.

Ayame stood there in the doorway, frozen, her eyes locked onto me like the air between us had solidified. I couldn't breathe. I don't think she could either. The sight of her—stern, sharp-eyed Ayame, the one who never faltered—suddenly breaking in place, her grip loosening until the box slipped from her hands, scattering fruit and parchment across the floor.

For a long heartbeat, we just stared at each other. Neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke. The others didn't even dare break the silence.

Finally, my lips moved before I could think. "Ayame…"

The sound of her name shattered whatever restraint she'd been holding. She bolted forward before I could even finish, colliding into me with enough force to make me stumble back in the chair. Her arms wrapped around me like a vice, clutching as if I might vanish if she let go. And then—

She sobbed.

Right into my shoulder.

The sharp, controlled swordswoman, whose every step and word was usually calculated, was trembling against me like a child. Her tears soaked into my shirt, her voice muffled with broken, choked sounds she couldn't suppress.

I froze for a second, stunned. Then my arms rose, wrapping around her, holding her tight. My chest ached at the sound, but I forced myself to speak, my voice low and steady. "Ayame… hey. It's okay."

Her sobs only grew harder. Her fingers clenched into my back as though apologizing through touch. I felt the guilt in her grip before she even said the words.

"I'm sorry," she managed through the tears, her voice cracking in a way I'd never heard before. "I should've—if I had been stronger—if I hadn't—"

I cut her off, pressing my cheek to her hair. "Stop. None of this was your fault. Do you hear me? None of it."

She shook her head fiercely against me, but I held her closer, grounding her, refusing to let her spiral into blame.

The others shifted around us, and though they tried to be respectful, I could feel the energy. Mei's sharp gaze lingering too long. Rin biting her lip to hold something back. Even Akane had the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth.

Then—of course—Mei couldn't resist.

A snort broke the silence. Then a laugh. Loud, shameless, ringing through the room. "Oh, man," she cackled, clutching her stomach. "Ayame, you—crying like a lost puppy? Into his shoulder? This is gold. I'm never letting you live this down."

Ayame's head snapped up from my shoulder, her tears still streaking her cheeks but her glare sharp enough to cut steel. "Mei—" she hissed, voice trembling between rage and embarrassment.

Mei grinned wickedly. "What? Don't look at me like that! You were practically drowning him. Should I fetch a bucket? Or maybe—"

"Mei." The threat in Ayame's tone could've felled lesser beings.

I blinked, torn between wanting to laugh at Mei's audacity and shield Ayame from further humiliation. "It's fine," I said quickly, trying to ease the tension.

Ayame wiped furiously at her eyes, stepping back from me so quickly it was like she regretted ever touching me in the first place. Her composure returned in jagged fragments as she straightened her posture, arms folded tightly across her chest. "I… lost control for a moment. Forget it."

Mei chuckled. "Oh, we'll forget it… right after I carve it into the wall so no one ever forgets it again."

Ayame's glare intensified. "Touch the wall and you'll lose your hands."

"Worth it." Mei smirked.

I sighed, dragging a hand over my face. "Some things never change."

The tension eased with that, the girls hiding smiles they didn't want Ayame to see. And for a second, the weight of the past months seemed lighter.

Ayame finally turned back to me, her expression softened now, though her eyes still shimmered faintly. "I trust they've explained everything that happened while you were… gone."

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. More or less. Still feels like I've only got pieces of the puzzle, but… I get the gist."

"Good." Her voice was clipped, almost too sharp, like she needed to retreat into her usual discipline to cover the vulnerability she'd shown. Then, she exhaled, the edge softening. "Because we'll have no time to revisit it. You're joining us for the Moonlit Games."

I blinked. "…The what now?"

Ayame tilted her head slightly, as if surprised I didn't know. "The Moonlit Games. They begin in two weeks. You'll need to be prepared."

I stared at her, dumbfounded. "The… moon what? Why does that sound like some festival out of a fantasy novel?"

Silence. Then—Mei again, her smirk practically glowing. "Wait. You didn't tell him?"

Akane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We thought he should rest first. He just woke up, Ayame. You can't expect him to jump into something like this."

Rin's ears twitched nervously as she chimed in. "Yeah! He only just started eating properly again. Throwing him into… whatever that is… isn't fair."

Elira, ever calm, folded her hands. "Ayame… I advised against burdening him immediately."

Ayame's brows furrowed, her jaw tightening. "Burden? This is not a burden. It's necessity. He's one of us. He'll compete."

I raised both hands. "Whoa, wait. Back up. What exactly are the Moonlit Games? And why do I feel like I should be very concerned that you all avoided telling me?"

Nobody spoke at first. Mei, of course, was grinning ear to ear, enjoying every second of my confusion. Akane looked resigned, like she'd been expecting this fight. Rin fidgeted. Sora, uncharacteristically, wouldn't meet my eyes.

"…Okay," I said, my voice sharper now. "Someone explain before I lose my mind."

Ayame crossed her arms. "It is an ancient rite. A competition held once a century, beneath the full moon's blessing. Trials of strength, skill, and magic. To honor the balance between realms."

I stared at her. "…You're serious."

She didn't blink. "Deadly."

I dragged a hand down my face. "Great. Fantastic. I wake up from a five-month coma, barely remember my own reflection, and you're telling me I'm signed up for magical Olympic Hunger Games under the moonlight. Wonderful."

Mei snorted. "Honestly, that's the best way to put it."

"Shut up," Ayame snapped.

"No, no—let her talk," I said, glaring at Ayame. "You're telling me I have to do this? Why?"

"Because," Ayame said with a confident grin, "the Games are a tradition of our academy. They're not about punishment or anything grim—they're about testing ourselves, showing what we've learned, and… maybe showing off a little."

"Testing ourselves?" I echoed, wary.

"Mm." She nodded. "Think of it as a competition. Trials, challenges, duels—each designed to push us past our limits. It's not life or death, it's… fun."

Sora snorted softly, arms folding across her chest. "Fun for you maybe. I only like it because I get to hurt someone."

The bluntness in her tone made my head tilt. "You're joking, right?"

Everyone else turned their heads away almost at the same time, suspiciously silent.

"…You're not joking," I muttered, deadpan.

Sora's cheeks reddened faintly, but she didn't deny it.

Ayame cleared her throat quickly, brushing past the awkwardness. "Point is, Ren, this isn't some cruel council order or anything like that. It's our academy's way of making sure we're sharp. Every student participates, every household fields its team. It's about pride, skill, and… yes, fun."

I leaned back, still rubbing at my temple. "Fun. Right. Getting tossed into combat games days after waking up from a five-month coma… sounds like a riot."

Ayame smirked at me like she'd already won the argument. "You'll thank me later."

I wasn't so sure.

---

Ayame folded her arms, her expression shifting from smug to serious. "Besides," she added smoothly, "with your five months of missed attendance, your record at the academy looks… well, terrible. If you show up in the Games, it'll prove you're still on track."

I blinked at her. "…On track? Ayame, I don't even know where the track is."

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing just a little. "It's better than looking like you've been asleep for half a year. You'll regain some face, Ren. People talk. This will silence them."

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. My jaw tightened. She was right—five months gone, my attendance was probably a mess, even before I lost five months of my life, my standing probably in ruins. And yet, the truth was even worse.

"I don't know a single spell," I confessed, my voice dropping low. "Not one. From the moment I joined the academy, everything's been chaos. The system… the clone… the mess you all had to clean up. I've never had a normal day of training. Not one."

The room went quiet. Dead quiet. I expected them to laugh, maybe tease, maybe scold. Instead, they just looked at me.

And it wasn't pity.

Rin's green eyes shimmered, tail swaying uneasily behind her. Akane's lips pressed into a faint smile, but it wasn't mocking—it was the kind of smile you give someone who's more capable than they realize. Mei tilted her head, her smirk softening into something unreadable, almost sly encouragement. Elira's gaze lingered on me with the weight of someone who had seen kingdoms rise and fall. And Sora—sweet, Sora—watched me like she knew something I didn't.

Their looks said everything their mouths didn't.

They didn't believe me. Or maybe… they believed I didn't know a spell, but they also believed it didn't matter.

I felt my stomach twist. "…That isn't good either," I muttered. "You all know that, right? Me walking into a tournament with nothing?"

Still, not a single one of them moved to agree with me. Not one word of protest. Just those maddeningly steady, confident faces, like they knew something I didn't.

I leaned back slowly, exhaling through my teeth.

The silence felt heavier than any words they could have spoken.

And in that silence, a thought crept unbidden into my head.

Maybe they were right.

Maybe they knew something about me… that I didn't know myself.

---

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.