The atmosphere within Arcadia was bustling. Since it was the final days of the academy year, the headmaster had arranged school tours to coincide with the annual combat tournament, essentially killing two birds with one stone.

This only increased viewership of the tournament, in turn adding to the fame of the academy—as well as giving the students a wider audience to impress.

Of course this was not the only showcase that Arcadia provided. There were also competitions for alchemy, inscriptions and other popular disciplines outside of just combat, yet none were as popular as this tournament.

Combat strength it seemed, was still king in everyone's eyes. Many found it rather ironic, given the fact that the continent of Hyperia had been at peace for over two-thousand years.

Obviously this did not mean power was not useful, just that it was surprising the noble houses and institutions placed such a significance on it.

Perhaps it was merely the nature of mages to seek out strength and revere those who had reached the pinnacle?

These thoughts were far from Michael's mind as he walked through the familiar halls of the first floor. He had not gotten much sleep the night before, tossing and turning as his mind constantly went through outrageous scenarios.

What if his uniform ripped and exposed him to so many people during the fight? What if he mispronounced his incantations, or used too much force against his opponent?

These thoughts swirled in his head, no matter how absurd they seemed. It didn't take him long to realize that it was a result of the self-imposed pressure he'd placed on his shoulders.

While there was essentially no tangible benefits to winning the tournament other than being noticed by the noble houses, he still wanted to win—or at least reach the semi-finals.

Only then would Michael be able to hold his head high among the nobles. If he could beat the scions of noble houses with his skills as a mere commoner, they would have no choice but to acknowledge him.

Unknowingly, Michael clenched his fists, biting down on his lip.

"Hey… Are you okay?" A feminine voice prompted from beside him.

"Huh? Oh… yeah I'm fine." Michael lied, his gaze lingering on Melody for a mere moment before turning away. They still had yet to properly talk since that night a few months ago.

"Liar." She said in a small tone.

Michael felt his eye twitch. Some anger surged in his heart, but he quickly forced it down. Now was not the time to get into an argument with Melody, especially since she was right.

However, it seemed as if he wouldn't be getting out of it that easy. He felt a hand fall upon his shoulder, stopping him in place. He turned to see the blue-haired girl with her eyebrows knit together in a frown.

"Go on, say what you were about to say." She goaded.

"Leave it be."

Michael brushed the hand off and continued his walk, not wanting to speak about this now. It had been over three months, why had she decided to address the situation now of all times?

The tournament was an hour away and they were due at the arena in the next half an hour or they'd face "dire consequences", or so Quinn said. He wasn't sure what these consequences were, and he didn't want to find out.

He walked a few paces before two words stopped him in his track.

"I'm sorry…"

The words were said softly, but they caused his whole body to freeze. The vulnerability of her tone, the sincerity—it all swirled within his heart, almost melting the cold exterior he'd been displaying.

Why did it have to be now though?

For a moment, Michael considered ignoring her, but it didn't last long. He knew without a doubt that if he did so, it might irreparably damage their friendship.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked eventually, not yet turning around.

"I…" she hesitated.

Despite not seeing her, Michael could guess she was fidgeting and shuffling her feet like she always did when she was uncomfortable. He could even imagine the exact expression on her face in that moment.

Michael sighed, feeling most of his anger dissipate. The girl was clearly bad at apologies, something that hadn't gone unnoticed in the almost four years he'd known her.

Maybe I should give her a break, he thought, his heart softening.

All-in-all, they were both kids, not yet fourteen. While she was indeed a noble and would be of marriageable age in a little over two years, she was still just a teenager.

As was he.

Michael turned around, wanting to defuse the situation. It would do no good if either of them were affected before the tournament and performed poorly because of it.

However, he froze upon seeing Melody with tears streaming down her face. Her sapphire eyes were like shimmering pools, invoking a sense of guilt within him almost immediately.

Had he caused this?

"M-melody, what's wrong?" he asked, feeling slightly panicked.

"I'm sorry Michael…" she repeated, reaching out and grabbing his hands in one swift motion, stunning him. "I was afraid…" she said, tears still streaming down her face.

Afraid? What does she mean?

Instead of questioning her, he decided to let the girl talk herself. It appeared that she had resolved to do speak her mind now anyway.

She gazed at him, wiping the tears from her face. "I didn't want to believe, to have hope. All my life I've been seen as merely a possession, a pawn piece desired by all the noble houses…"

"It's always been my fate to be sold off, to be used as a bargaining chip to gain the most benefits. It was the purpose of my existence to begin with…" she admitted, lowering her head.

"The only reason my mother was married off to my father was to preserve the ancient bloodline. Despite the fact that my parents do love each other, they were also aware of this beforehand."

Michael didn't know what to say. He had guessed as much, given the fact that Mary had barely received any contact from her supposed family through the whole time he stayed at the manor. It seemed she was also married off for a political agenda.

He watched as the girl tried to compose herself.

"But then I met you, Michael…" she said softly.

"The very first day you became my butler, you treated me like just another girl. There were no ulterior motives, no falsehoods—you were just you." Melody's lips curled into a small reminiscent smile.

"You might not have told me everything about you, but at least you were genuine. Even when you figured out what my father had planned you never backed down."

Michael blinked a few times, speechless. He felt like if the girl wasn't currently crying, he might even blush.

"So when you told me that you would fight for my hand, I…" she paused, as if searching for the right words. "I was so happy…"

"I was so happy that I got scared."

Only now did Michael manage to speak. He gripped Melody's hands firmly and pulled her closer, "Why? Why would you be so scared? Are you worried that I won't be able to win your hand?"

"That… and what they would do to you if you succeeded." She said softly, lowering her gaze.

The revelation shocked him. It turned out that Melody had been keeping her distance from him not because she didn't like him—but because she was afraid he would get hurt.

It made sense, he had almost been beaten to death inside the academy—the place that was meant to be the safest. If he left the academy after graduating, wouldn't it be relatively simple to assassinate him?

The thought made him pause.

Did he really think this through?

"Man, I always need to shit when I'm nervous. Sorry for keeping you wait—" Rudy cut off his next words, his wide eyes glued to the sight in front of him for a few moments.

"I ugh… I'll meet you guys at the arena." He said in a panic, running past them like a bolt of lightning.

If it wasn't for the current situation, Michael might have laughed at his friends antics, however he wasn't in the mood.

"Don't worry about me, Melody. By the time I graduate, I'll be strong enough to take on any noble house—regardless of who tries to stop me." He said grandly.

While it might seem like a ridiculous boast, the supreme confidence radiating from him told another story.

Perhaps it was this confidence that seemed to relieve Melody, as she seemed to calm down significantly after his declaration. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she nodded.

"I believe you." She added softly, retrieving her hands and wiping the tears from her eyes. While she still looked a little vulnerable, it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"Let's go, we can't be late."

Michael nodded, feeling his heart stir. If anything, he felt even more determined to perform well in his first combat tournament.

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