Chapter 9: Academy Heroine’s Right Diagonal Back Seat

If you want to be a hero, you must first have the right mindset.

That was the belief of a girl who dreamed of becoming a hero since childhood.

With that mindset, her actions naturally reflected her beliefs.

Even if people around her called her rigid, she believed a hero should never hesitate to do what they think is right, even if it meant people would distance themselves from her. She lived her life that way.

That's why she was furious that aspiring heroes were late on the first day of school.

Despite their excellent abilities that allowed them to see through illusions and handle them with ease, she believed that their mindset needed to be more heroic. After finishing her meal, she scolded the red-haired girl she met.

"Aren't you old enough to wake up on your own without your parents?"

"Sorry, I won't be late from now on. Besides, I don't have parents."

Hearing that, seeing the girl smile sadly as she responded, made her heart sink.

How many times had she heard such comments to be able to respond so nonchalantly?

Even in a world where heroes protected people, bullying still existed in schools.

Not having parents was an easy excuse for bullying.

She must have heard countless times that she was different because she had no parents.

Each time, she must have felt hurt, and the scars from those hurts must have accumulated so much that she could now smile through even her own unintentional hurtful words.

It was always like this.

What she thought was the right thing often unintentionally hurt others.

That was not heroic at all.

Perhaps that day, the guilt weighed heavily on her heart.

Maybe that's why, even though the teacher appointed her as the class representative, she didn't feel any joy.

She always thought heroes should lead everyone, so she always felt happy when appointed as class representative. But now, she felt nothing.

All she could see were the red eyes of the girl staring at her from a distance with a blank expression.

The next morning, while cleaning the classroom, she saw the red-haired girl enter the room.

It was 7:30, 30 minutes before school started.

Was she taking to heart what she had said yesterday?

The girl stared at her for a moment before walking away.

It felt like something heavy was pressing on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

That day, they had sparring class.

When the teacher called out her sparring partner's name, her heart pounded.

Scarlet Evande, the red-haired girl.

Even though facing her was uncomfortable, a hero must always do their best in any situation.

She bit her lip to steady herself, drew her sword, and minimized air resistance with her ability.

Speed was her weapon.

Although she prepared for the fight, Scarlet didn't even take out a weapon.

Despite her difficult situation, she was trying her best. But why wasn't Scarlet?

Suppressing her rising anger, she spoke.

"Are you treating me like an idiot? Take out your weapon."

"...I don't have a weapon."

She felt her anger boil over.

Anyone who wanted to be a hero should have at least trained with a weapon from a young age.

Even with strong abilities, there was a difference in power between using a weapon and not using one.

Not using a weapon was an insult, as if saying she could win without one.

In response, she decided to make Scarlet pay for her arrogance.

"I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're unarmed. Be ready."

Scarlet took a combat stance and flames erupted from her body.

Fire users were difficult because of their powerful long-range attacks.

But Scarlet had no weapon for close combat.

She aimed to end it with one strike.

3, 2, 1

As the match began, she lunged at Scarlet with all her might, aiming for a quick strike.

Without any air resistance, her lunge was swift enough to catch most heroes off guard. Yet, she felt no impact.

Just a step, a hair's breadth away, but that was enough to create a critical opening.

Scarlet's eyes, burning like her flames, met hers.

For a moment, she felt chills.

Those indifferent eyes seemed to say, "I knew you'd attack like that."

A spinning kick, fully utilizing rotational force, flew at her.

A loud noise resonated as the air compression barrier she had set up vibrated.

The power behind the kick was enough to make her heart tremble.

Arrogance? Insult? She was the one underestimating her opponent.

Scarlet had been giving her all from the start.

She counterattacked, but Scarlet dodged nimbly without any sign of distress.

Just one exchange, but she understood.

Scarlet's body was honed to its maximum potential.

Her vision seemed to anticipate attacks.

Even in unforeseen situations, she remained calm.

It was a depth she could only call martial arts.

She regretted underestimating Scarlet for even a moment and readied her sword again.

Filled with remorse and respect, she hoped her feelings would reach Scarlet.

"Here I come."

Scarlet dodged her attacks with minimal movements, leaving only minor cuts.

Her evasions were almost ideal.

Even though she had no air resistance, Scarlet's movements seemed faster.

It felt like her every move was being scrutinized by Scarlet's red eyes.

Suddenly, she felt ashamed.

She realized why Scarlet had no weapon.

A weapon was ultimately a matter of money.

It wasn't just about the cost; maintaining and training with it required money.

Most students at the academy were children of heroes or prestigious families because of this.

Ordinary kids often gave up on becoming heroes because of the cost.

But Scarlet was an orphan.

Could an orphan afford a weapon?

Could she afford to maintain it or hire a teacher?

Of course not.

Yet Scarlet had entered the academy without a weapon.

She had trained herself to a level where she could pass the academy's threshold with just her body.

Without a teacher or parents.

How much effort had she put in to reach this level?

Despite being scorned as an orphan and facing the harsh reality.

She must have trained to the point of spitting blood and enduring bone-crushing pain.

She had never given up, no matter how many times she fell.

Just because she wanted to be a hero.

Compared to that, how insignificant was she?

At that moment, flames erupted from Scarlet's fists.

The heat made her stop attacking, lost in thought.

Scarlet didn't miss the opening.

She stepped forward, determined not to be overwhelmed by the world, and threw a punch.

That step,

That punch,

The brilliant flames from her fist seemed to embody her life.

Unconsciously, she thought,

How beautiful.

After the sparring session, during lunch, she saw Scarlet talking to someone in the corner.

Scarlet nodded indifferently to questions about learning martial arts from a young age and the difficulty of training.

An impulse rose in her chest.

She stopped Scarlet as she came out of the cafeteria.

Then, she bowed her head and apologized.

For unknowingly hurting her, for misunderstanding her.

Apologizing was a selfish act.

Hurting others, regretting it, and trying to ease your own guilt by apologizing.

Yet, she felt too ashamed not to apologize and made Scarlet the victim of her selfishness.

After spilling her thoughts, she felt a bit relieved.

Most people she apologized to for hurting unknowingly just disappeared.

So she expected Scarlet to do the same and waited, head bowed, for her to walk away.

But then, she felt a warm touch on her hand.

"Thank you for apologizing."

The warmth from her hand and those kind words made her eyes well up.

Did Scarlet know how much those words meant to her?

Afraid of breaking down, she quickly left the scene.

That night, lying in bed, she stretched her hand toward the sky.

Would she forget today's events with time?

She gently shook her head.

The warmth from the hand that held hers still lingered, like a brand in her memory.

She placed her other hand over the outstretched one.

A girl who had only ever dreamed of being a hero,

For the first time, she thought she wanted to be friends with someone.

*

Meanwhile, another girl was realizing that a macaron split into twenty pieces was just crumbs and was in despair.