Chapter 31: The Path of Least Resistance

Chapter 31: The Path of Least Resistance

The academy's training hall was buzzing with its usual mix of eager recruits and noble-born warriors posturing for dominance, but Jessica barely spared it a glance.

Her body ached.

Not in the good, satisfied way after a fight, but in the stiff, deep-tissue, "I should not have been conscious for the last forty-eight hours" kind of way. Her arms still burned in places, the ointment doing little to stop the deep, irritated throb of blisters that ran from her wrists to her shoulders. Beneath the uniform, her torso wasn't much better—her ribs ached where healing magic had struggled to knit bruises together, and the last thing she wanted was some wannabe noble ass smacking a wooden practice blade into an area that still felt like raw fire.

So when she stepped onto the training hall's main floor and saw him waiting, she immediately regretted this decision.

Alistair von Aurelius.

Crown Prince. Political mastermind. And currently, an irritating little shit standing in her way.

His ever-calm, perfectly measured gaze flicked toward her the moment she entered, the barest quirk of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. He had been waiting.

Not just for her.

For this moment.

The noble students around him were gathered loosely—some stretching, others pretending to spar—but their attention was locked on the exchange before it even began. Magnus was there too, adjusting his wrist wraps, though his expression remained unreadable.

Jessica exhaled through her nose. She already knew what this was.

He's going to push for a duel.

The setup was obvious. The way he shifted just slightly, ensuring Edgar von Riefenstahl stood at his side, the faint expectancy in the air—it was all deliberate.

Jessica sighed internally. This was so stupid.

⸻

The Setup: The Duel That Wasn't

Alistair's voice was smooth as silk, just the right balance of casual and condescending.

"Ah, Moran. You're here."

Jessica blinked. Am I? She refrained from saying it.

The prince continued, gesturing toward Edgar like this was all coincidence.

"I was just discussing with Sir Riefenstahl how... unconventional your style is. And how curious it would be to see it properly tested against magic, given the, ah... unique circumstances of your advancement."

There it was.

He was giving her two choices:

1. Duel Edgar and get absolutely dog walked by his Thunder Magic.

2. Refuse and look like she was avoiding combat after already humiliating an instructor.

It was a setup either way.

If she lost, it would further discredit her presence in the elite class. If she somehow won, it would only draw more suspicion about her capabilities. Either way, Alistair won—because the only thing nobles hated more than a nobody being strong was a nobody refusing to play their game.

Jessica didn't react.

Didn't stiffen. Didn't scoff. Just looked at him flatly before glancing at Edgar, who—while still looking composed—clearly had no real interest in this.

Then she glanced down at her own arms.

At the raw blisters. The healing burns.

She lifted one brow. Slowly. Deliberately.

Then, finally—she spoke.

"...I'm covered in burns and my muscles still feel like they got put through a grinder. Why the hell would I want to get electrocuted on top of that?"

Alistair paused.

Not because he was thrown off—no, he was too sharp for that—but because he could not argue with that logic.

Jessica didn't stop there.

She tilted her head, voice casual, almost lazy.

"I'm not really in the mood to fight anyone. What I am in the mood for is some endurance work."

She stretched her arms, rolling her shoulders slightly, testing the dull stiffness in her joints.

"I figured I'd jog a few laps, build back up my stamina. Maybe watch Tobias fight Magnus. That sounds fun."

Silence.

A noble near the back physically flinched.

Edgar blinked.

Magnus, who had been wrapping his wrist, paused briefly, his sharp blue eyes flickering to her with the faintest twitch of amusement.

Alistair, to his credit, did not falter.

He exhaled through his nose, slow and measured, adjusting his gloves with a neutral expression.

"...A reasonable choice."

Jessica could see it.

The barely perceptible tick in his jaw.

The way he had to physically accept that her reasoning was too airtight to refute without looking absurd.

Because even if he wanted to press further, he couldn't do it without looking ridiculous.

He had lost this exchange.

And he knew it.

⸻

The Aftermath: The "Feminine" Wall of Muscle

Jessica, unbothered, turned on her heel and started stretching near the edge of the training hall.

And that's when she finally noticed the stares.

She had already felt them earlier in the halls—whispers about her strength, her endurance, the scars she wasn't even trying to hide.

But now?

Now she could feel the full weight of them.

Because it wasn't just curiosity anymore.

It was adjustment.

She wasn't the strongest in the class. She wasn't the most terrifying presence.

But she was different.

She was feminine—that much was undeniable—but her build, her presence, was something no other noble girl in the academy could match.

Not lean and delicate. Not small and dainty.

Tone. Defined. A frame built for efficiency, not aesthetics.

More like her mother.

More like Tobias, if he was a woman.

And that fact unsettled them.

Because it wasn't just that she was strong.

It was that she was strong in a way they didn't have a place for.

Jessica sighed, exhaling through her nose as she settled into her first warm-up stretch.

Nobles were so fucking exhausting.

Jessica exhaled through her nose, letting her pace fall into a steady rhythm as she jogged along the training field's perimeter.

Her body still ached, still burned, but the motion felt good. It stretched out the stiffness in her joints, worked through the tightness in her muscles.

Endurance first. Strength later.

That was the rule.

Tobias and Magnus were a short distance away, their conversation carrying just enough for her to pick up when her focus drifted.

"...It's not just range," Tobias was saying, shifting his stance. "Angle manipulation changes how the mana distributes through the terrain. A direct stomp channels force downward—basic. But if you step off-center, like this—"

He executed a sharp, deliberate ground kick, his foot rolling into the earth at an angle.

The reaction was instant.

Instead of a simple shockwave, the stone lurched in a sharp, unexpected ripple, extending farther than before, twisting like something alive.

Magnus raised a brow, nodding slightly. "Shortens the distance for concentrated effects, extends it for wider control."

Tobias smirked. "Exactly. Waste less effort, get better results."

Jessica let their voices fade, rolling her shoulders as she pushed her speed just slightly higher.

Her body shouldn't be handling this well.

Her arms were still covered in blisters, and underneath her uniform, bruises still throbbed across her ribs and legs. Even so, she wasn't winded. Wasn't even struggling.

She could already feel the stares.

Murmurs trailed behind her.

"She's using endurance as an excuse."

"She's running faster than any of the first-year girls can sprint."

"How the hell is she not out of breath?"

Jessica ignored them.

If they were smart, they'd stop wasting time whispering and start training.

She didn't have time to play with people too lazy to think.

⸻

Unwanted Attention

Jessica didn't notice it at first.

Not because it was subtle—because it was so blatant that it took her a second to even register it.

That feeling.

Mana.

Not magic being used, not an attack being prepared—just presence.

Familiar. Heavy. Impossible to ignore.

She sighed internally, adjusting her path slightly to weave through the open training yard, shifting between groups of students mid-exercise.

Didn't matter.

He followed.

Of course he did.

Jessica tilted her head slightly, glancing toward the far edge of the field without breaking stride.

And there he was.

Lucien von Hohenfeld.

Standing near the outer fencing, arms crossed, watching.

Jessica exhaled. Great.

She could always feel him before she saw him.

His mana wasn't overpowering in the way raw force mages were—it didn't crackle like Edgar's lightning, didn't hum with layered spellcraft like Seraphina's presence.

It was refined. Sharpened. Focused.

And right now?

It was watching her.

Closely.

Jessica turned her gaze forward again, pretending she didn't notice.

Which, of course, meant he started walking.

⸻

Lucien's Approach: Unavoidable Conversations

Jessica continued jogging, but it didn't matter.

Lucien wasn't rushing.

He was just there.

Moving at an unhurried, calculated pace, cutting angles across the field, adjusting his approach with the kind of subtlety that wasn't actually subtle at all.

Jessica rolled her eyes. Fine.

If she ignored him any longer, he'd just be more annoying about it later.

With a measured sigh, she eased her pace until she slowed to a walk.

Lucien was already there.

"Morning," he said easily.

Jessica side-eyed him, still walking. "You're talking to me. That's never good."

Lucien smirked slightly, falling into step beside her. "I could say the same about you. You're running like someone who isn't half-dead."

Jessica sighed, slow and deliberate. "Didn't realize you were my physician now."

"Didn't realize you had one."

Jessica shot him a dry glance.

Lucien's smirk twitched. "You shouldn't be moving like this after what happened."

Jessica rolled her shoulders. "I shouldn't be alive after what happened."

Lucien's smirk didn't fade. "And yet."

She clicked her tongue, glancing at him. "If you're here to pick at details, I'll pass."

Lucien hummed thoughtfully. "Not at all. I was just wondering..."

Jessica waited.

Then—

Lucien's gaze flicked to her arms.

His expression didn't shift, but she felt the way his attention lingered—the way he took in the blisters, the faint healing burns, the bruises still visible under the ointment.

Jessica sighed through her nose. "Go ahead."

Lucien raised a brow. "Hm?"

Jessica gestured vaguely at his entire existence. "The pointed, passive-aggressive observation you're clearly about to make."

Lucien's lips quirked slightly, amused. "You're very self-aware."

"I have to be. I'm surrounded by irritating people."

Lucien laughed. Quiet. Sharp.

Then, smoothly—"You have time to run but not to duel?"

Jessica barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

"There it is," she muttered.

Lucien's smirk grew. "What?"

Jessica tilted her head, her voice flat.

"If I can run, then I should be able to fight, right?"

Lucien shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. "If you can sprint faster than a first-year can magically enhance their speed, then I'd say it's a fair question."

Jessica exhaled. Gods, he was annoying.

She let the silence stretch between them for a moment longer before answering.

"I don't want to get hit by lightning today."

Lucien gave her a look.

Jessica held up a single finger. "Blisters."

Then another. "Burns."

Then, finally—"Fucking electrocution."

Lucien chuckled, shaking his head. "So practical. It's almost like you're reasonable."

Jessica narrowed her eyes. "Almost?"

Lucien shrugged again. "If you were really reasonable, you wouldn't be here at all."

Jessica didn't answer that.

Not immediately.

Instead, she let her pace slow again, rolling her shoulders before speaking.

"...What do you want, Lucien?"

Lucien let the silence stretch for a second before answering.

"I wanted to see how you were."

Jessica glanced at him, unimpressed. "Why?"

Lucien's smirk faded just slightly.

Jessica saw it. A flicker of something else.

Something quieter.

Something he didn't say.

"...Because you're still standing," he finally answered.

Jessica exhaled slowly, looking forward again.

"You shouldn't be."

Lucien's voice was calm. Not accusing. Not suspicious.

Just a fact.

Jessica's fingers twitched.

She didn't answer.

Lucien didn't press.

They walked in silence.

For once.

Jessica had a feeling Lucien wasn't going to let this go.

But for now?

For now, he just walked beside her.

Watching. Thinking.

And Jessica?

Jessica just kept moving.

_____

She had felt the shift in the training hall the moment Lucien appeared beside her—felt the way conversations lulled, how eyes subtly turned in their direction, how the weight of noble expectation settled like a silent storm.

She had seen it before.

Even if she didn't know why Lucien was acting strange about this whole situation, she knew the pattern.

A future Duke shouldn't be this invested in someone like her.

Even if it was just duty, it was more than it should have been.

She didn't care to understand why.

She just wanted him to get a damn grip.

And now Seraphina—never one to let an opportunity pass—had seized on it.

"Lucien," she mused, voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Are you really courting Jessica Moran?"

Jessica felt the ripple that passed through the courtyard.

The way nobles shifted just slightly, the way conversations quieted, the way Magnus and Tobias both turned their heads at the same time.

Lucien, beside her, had gone very, very still.

Jessica didn't sigh. Didn't react.

She had seen this play before.

And she already knew Seraphina wasn't done.

Seraphina tilted her head, golden eyes gleaming with polite amusement.

"Well?" she continued smoothly. "I'd think carefully before answering. After all—" she smiled, her words light, "—it would be quite the scandal if you forgot what happened this past week."

Jessica's eyes narrowed slightly.

She knew what was coming.

Seraphina wasn't aiming at her.

She was aiming at Lucien.

"Aren't you the one who wept over her?" Seraphina asked.

Jessica felt the slightest shift in Lucien's posture.

The way his fingers curled, just briefly, before relaxing.

The way his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

It wasn't anger.

It wasn't even shock.

It was calculation.

Because he knew—just as well as Jessica did—that this wasn't just a casual remark.

Seraphina had just maneuvered him into a lose-lose position.

If he denied it outright, he would have to acknowledge—publicly—that his reaction to Jessica was too much, too emotional, too irrational.

If he let the assumption stand, well...

Jessica had no idea why that seemed to be the worse option for him.

But she could see it.

The way he hesitated.

The way he did not immediately say no.

Jessica's mind worked through the calculations with detached clarity.

Lucien wasn't actually courting her. That was obvious.

Which meant his hesitation had nothing to do with romance and everything to do with politics.

Jessica frowned internally.

Then why not just say it?

Seraphina watched him closely, her expression serene, but Jessica could feel the underlying sharpness to it.

She was waiting.

Lucien was trapped.

Jessica exhaled slowly, shifting her stance slightly.

And then, Lucien finally spoke.

"...It's none of your business, Seraphina."

Jessica blinked.

The nobles around them stirred, whispering.

Seraphina's smile widened.

Jessica's annoyance spiked.

What kind of vague half-answer was that?

⸻

Lucien's Perspective: The Trap He Walked Into

Lucien did not like this.

Not the situation itself—he had been maneuvered before, had faced political traps sharper than this one.

But this one felt... off.

Because when Seraphina had asked the question, his immediate answer should have been no.

He wasn't courting Jessica Moran.

It was absurd to even suggest.

And yet—

The moment he had opened his mouth, the words hadn't come out.

Something in his mind had stalled, something sharp and unspoken, something that warned him that denying it outright would solidify something irreversible.

It wasn't even about Jessica.

It was about Seraphina.

About the nobles watching.

About how much weight had suddenly been placed on an assumption that should have meant nothing.

Jessica wasn't a suitable match. That was obvious.

Even if it was a sense of duty—even if he had overreacted—there was no logical reason for a future Duke to invest in a magic cripple.

Lucien could feel Jessica watching him.

She wasn't confused.

She was assessing.

Because she understood the game, even if she didn't care about the rules.

Lucien exhaled slowly.

He should have just said no.

But he didn't.

And that was what bothered him.

⸻

Jessica's Perspective: I Am Too Tired for This

Jessica wanted to leave.

She wasn't flustered or embarrassed—she was just annoyed.

Lucien could have shut this down immediately.

But instead, he had given a half-answer that was only making things worse.

Seraphina wasn't even hiding her amusement anymore.

Jessica turned her head toward Lucien and stared. Flatly.

"...That's the answer you're going with?"

Lucien glanced at her, expression composed. "It's the truth."

Jessica clicked her tongue, shifting her stance slightly.

"The truth," she repeated. "That's what we're calling that."

Lucien's lips twitched slightly.

Jessica sighed.

She knew better than to engage with this any further.

Instead, she rolled her shoulders, stretching out the tension. "I'm going for another jog."

Lucien did not stop her.

Seraphina's smile remained.

And Jessica—without bothering to look back—had a very strong suspicion that this would not be the last time this conversation came up.