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Chapter 02
Summer, age twelve.
Every time she drives a dagger into her chest, she returns to this season. And every time, Lucy has met a ruinous end brought about by her own foolish choices.
Truly foolish. Even after accumulating years of wisdom and sharpening her instincts, she had still lived no better than that.
…Not this time. This time, for certain.
Lucy, who had been staring at the back of her hand with unfocused eyes, suddenly sprang up and kicked her door open, rushing into the corridor. The place she ran to in haste was her mother’s room.
Bang—she flung the door open, and her mother, who had been tuning an instrument, looked at her in surprise.
“Lucy? What is it? Why are you so covered in sweat?”
Her mother’s soft gaze met her—hair the color of pale sand, slightly deeper eyes filled with warmth.
Every time she saw her alive, it evoked an emotion Lucy found difficult to put into words. Lucy pressed her lips tightly together, holding back tears, and then finally threw herself into her mother’s arms.
Startled, her mother hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around her.
“Why are you like this? Did you have a nightmare?”
The warmth against her skin brought relief, but at the same time, an obsessive urge to protect it bound Lucy tightly. After a long silence, her throat constricted, she pushed her mother back slightly and forced the words out.
“Mother. I have a request.”
Meeting her mother’s puzzled gaze, Lucy solidified her resolve.
This time, she would protect her mother. And she would protect herself as well.
No—protecting them was obvious. First, she would strike back at the one who had twisted this cursed fate into repetition.
For that, she needed a sword. A blade sharper than anything else.
Grand General Walter Heiberg.
She would use that man. She would make him hers.
She didn’t care about royalty or being a princess. Right now, all that mattered was obtaining a sword.
If she could secure that man, she would hold the strongest piece on the board. And fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—he was currently within her reach.
Holding her mother’s hand, Lucy spoke with determination.
“Please send me to the military academy. I want to become a soldier, to protect you and our country.”
* * *
The Kingdom of Parnassus, Lucy’s homeland, could hardly be called a strong nation in terms of overall power.
After all, national strength came from capital, and while Parnassus was internally stable, it was not particularly wealthy.
However, thanks to a single unrivaled commander, its military strength stood shoulder to shoulder with neighboring nations.
And that was the very figure Lucy was targeting.
To meet him, she had to leave the palace.
No matter how she thought about it, choosing the military academy over playing princess in her mother’s arms was the right decision. Though at times like this—running twenty laps around the training field—she did sometimes doubt it.
“Haa… haa…”
As a sharp pain tugged at her side, Lucy slowed down, only for an instructor to rush over and strike her back hard.
“Arsinoe! What are you going to do if you’re already exhausted?!”
The rough voice, like someone shouting with their head stuck inside a barrel, tore at her eardrums. At the same time, the beast-like Lycan eyes—vertical pupils and all—stared her down in warning.
Lucy said nothing, forcing strength into her dragging legs and pushing off the ground harder.
Soon the instructor’s gaze snapped elsewhere.
“Jerónimo! My great-great-grandmother in her hometown could run faster than you! Pick up the pace!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Badle! At this rate you’ll wet yourself before reaching the latrine!”
“Yes, sir!”
The figure barking orders resembled more a wolf than a man—ears twitching atop his head, fangs bared as he shouted relentlessly.
“Move it, you sluggish bastards!”
The Lycan instructor bared his fangs, driving the trainees mercilessly. Jeronimo muttered under his breath, barely audible.
“Humans and Lycans don’t run at the same speed… this is ridiculous.”
Unfortunately for him, there was someone here who could hear even that.
Lucy exhaled quietly and fell two steps behind him.
A few seconds later—thud-thud-thud—the sound of something closer to the earth being torn up rather than footsteps thundered from behind.
“Hey, you!”
The instructor had already closed in, lips curled.
Below his elongated muzzle, sharp fangs gleamed dangerously. His expression was ferocious, as if he might bite someone to death at any moment. Everyone knew that was simply a Lycan’s “smile,” but it never made it less unsettling.
He leaned in close to Jeronimo, who had gone pale.
“I’m running on two legs just like you lot! And you’re still calling it unfair?!”
“I—I apologize, Instructor!”
“You think you can just slack off like that? You’ve got a fear of heights, right? If you come in last, I’ll tie you to my back and make you climb the academy bell tower!”
The threat sent Jeronimo scrambling into a faster pace.
The moment the last-place runner sped up, the rest of the group followed. Lucy also pushed herself harder, unwilling to become an exhibition tied to the bell tower.
* * *
Training ended roughly ten minutes later.
After finishing the final cooldown, Lucy collapsed onto the dirt, too exhausted to even collect herself.
“Seriously… I’m going to die.”
It had already been four years since she entered the academy.
She had met countless instructors, but this was her first time training under a Lycan. The instructor named Zen was enormous, tireless, and relentlessly pushed the trainees to their limits.
“This ‘special training’ is just suffering. Who can possibly outrun a wolf?”
Jeronimo, still lying on the ground, grumbled. Badle, catching his breath beside him, replied:
“Hey, stop talking like that or you’ll get in trouble again. You know how good Lycan hearing is.”
“As if he could hear us from all the way over there.”
Even as he said it, Jeronimo glanced nervously toward the instructor.
Lucy let out a faint laugh at their behavior. Seeing her smile, Badle chuckled and tapped his chest.
“Still, that instructor is kind of famous. He’s the Grand General’s direct subordinate. That’s why he was assigned as a special training instructor.”
“The Grand General? That Grand General?”
At the name spoken like a myth across the kingdom’s army, Jeronimo’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“You’re lying. That wolf is a subordinate of the Grand General?”
Badle quickly covered Jeronimo’s mouth.
For Lycans, “wolf” or worse insults were forbidden words. Everyone glanced around nervously.
Then Badle noticed a long shadow falling over them and froze.
“…You know something?”
A deep, gravelly voice spoke.
Jeronimo slowly looked up.
The instructor stood there, grinning with exposed fangs.
“You think Lycans get this strong during full moon nights for nothing? And if we lose control, we might tear someone like you apart.”
Jeronimo stammered in panic.
“N-no, I—”
“You think we like using those herbs? We’re basically high all the time just to keep control. Three days straight sometimes. You think that doesn’t mess with our lives?”
The tone was calm, but heavy with something deeper than anger.
Jeronimo swallowed and nodded quickly.
“I… I apologize. That was out of line.”
“Good. There aren’t many Lycans in the academy right now, so I get why it feels strange. But once you enter real military service, you’ll meet plenty like me. Be careful next time.”
The instructor scratched his head and grinned again before straightening.
“Alright, stop lying around and go eat lunch! And don’t miss the special lecture this afternoon!”
