"Hey, it's Yuri!"

"The one who handed in the test after only three minutes, claiming she had a mission, and still got a perfect score...?"

At the Imperial Magic Academy, Yuri entered, lugging a large suitcase behind her. The students, who had just started relaxing after exams, began to buzz with excitement.

"I heard she didn’t even bother with the final exam. Yet she’s still top of the class because of her practical scores?"

"What could she possibly be doing that would make her skip exams?"

"You haven’t heard? She works for Vermont Security."

"Isn’t she just an apprentice?"

"No, she’s not an apprentice—she’s active. She just completed a mission escorting the Duke of the North’s daughter and is on her way back now."

"...!?"

What should have been limited information spread like wildfire. Balancing her academic and work life was impressive on its own, but Yuri maintained her top rank in school while adding a successful escort mission to her resume.

Yuri had been famous since her first day at the Imperial Magic Academy, but now her reputation shifted from being a troublemaker to something more impressive.

Upperclassmen who had once challenged Yuri and lost had often harbored jealousy and resentment, but they were far beyond feeling mere inferiority now. She had evolved from the academy’s misfit to its pride, becoming a respected figure.

As Yuri, now lost in thought, seriously considered her predicament:

‘What would it take for Aslan Vermont to recognize me as a woman…?’

Do I really come off as that boyish? Is there really no femininity to me at all? She glanced in a nearby mirror and bit her lip in frustration.

Should I grow my hair out? Or maybe dress up a bit more? But wearing a skirt to work seems a bit much…

After all, even Instructor Sylvia just wears neat pants and a coat. Then why does no one mistake her for a man? she wondered, then glanced down, noting how easily she could see the tops of her feet.

‘Guess the only option is to take the initiative…’

With a determined clench of her fist, Yuri resolved to act. She had come to accept that Aslan wasn’t as bad as she’d initially thought and that Charlotte and Yulia weren’t mistreated, at least not in the obvious ways. But that didn’t mean she could ignore their plight.

After all, Aslan had much darker intentions in mind. He wasn’t looking at Charlotte and Yulia with pure, innocent eyes, like the Duke of the North believed. No, he was “training” them as future wives, making them eat from dog bowls as part of their so-called “education.”

Yuri recalled Yulia defending Aslan’s practice of using dog bowls, claiming it had its advantages. Just thinking about it made her chest tighten painfully. Even if there was no hypnosis involved, Charlotte and Yulia were clearly being indoctrinated under Aslan Vermont’s “education.”

‘What if—just what if they got engaged to Aslan Vermont and came to brag about it…?’

The thought was suffocating, her chest aching. Gritting her teeth, Yuri forced herself to endure the agony.

She had to act before things escalated. But without any justification, she couldn’t just storm in and drag them out. Her only remaining option was a non-violent approach—and the only method she could think of was to attract Aslan’s attention herself.

‘All I need to do is buy some time…’

Until she could rescue them, she’d have to keep Aslan’s focus on her. But she hadn’t expected the real challenge would be getting him to see her as a woman.

Ugh, it’s so annoying! She hated the idea of dressing up all girly just to catch his attention! Wasn’t there any way she could get him to notice without making it obvious?

"Oh!"

Suddenly, an idea struck, and she clapped her hands. She had always tried to handle things alone, but now it was time to call in some favors.

"Haa…"

If what Jacob said was true, Sylvia’s sword had completed its transformation, fully bonding with her. In other words, it couldn’t be removed from my body without destroying it.

According to him, this form was optimal for Sylvia, allowing her to maximize her strength. How that translated into using my body as a scabbard was beyond me, but when I considered each point, it was… reluctantly acceptable.

"What do you think?"

"I’ll try drawing it again. Whoa!"

Swish. Sylvia drew the sword from my mouth again, startled to the point that she nearly nicked my cheek.

"The mana is recharging…!"

"As expected."

I’d suspected it ever since I noticed Sylvia’s improved performance while wielding the sword. Sylvia couldn’t generate mana on her own, yet she displayed power far beyond her natural abilities, which meant the mana was coming from an external source. That source was the sword.

"A sword that emits mana… Is such a thing even possible?"

"Of course not. It’s not a living being; it couldn’t produce mana on its own."

"Then…?"

"The mana comes from me. While I can’t wield mana myself, that doesn’t mean I can’t generate it. It seems your sword is absorbing mana from my heart and transmitting it to you."

"Oh…! That makes perfect sense!"

An optimal form, indeed. If Sylvia, unable to generate mana, could now output power on par with a quasi-Swordmaster by drawing on my heart’s mana… that would be ideal.

‘But if that’s the case, this is Sylvia’s limit. She won’t be able to grow stronger.’

Something about it felt wrong. If this was her “optimal form,” it meant Sylvia would never exceed her current level. Though she’d surpassed the Sword Expert rank, she remained below that of a true Swordmaster.

That couldn’t be it. Sylvia was once a prime candidate to be a hero. She only stepped down after injuring her heart, a talent who had been on the rise. Could her limit really be so middling?

Something didn’t add up. There had to be some hidden factor I was missing.

"I have some errands to run. We’ll continue testing the sword’s performance when I return."

"Yes, my lord."

"…Why are you following me?"

"To remain by your side and provide close protection, of course."

"Wait here. I’m only going to the restroom."

"What if an assassin attacks while you’re in the restroom? Without a sword, I can’t defend you."

"…"

Sylvia’s unwavering gaze left me speechless. Without me, Sylvia would be defenseless, and without her, I’d be without protection.

Just as I was wondering what to do, Charlotte came running over, wielding her powerful sword as she trained on her own.

"Sir, sir! I’ve got a good idea!"

"A good idea? What is it?"

"Instead of Knight Sylvia, why not use me as your guard! I wouldn’t hurt you by drawing my sword from your throat, and I wouldn’t follow you to the restroom!"

"W-What?!"

Sylvia’s reaction was visibly flustered, a rare sight. It was true; replacing Sylvia could solve this issue. Removing Sylvia from the guard role would mean she wouldn’t need the sword, thus removing the risk.

As tempting as the idea was… no one else was as reliable a protector as Sylvia. I trusted Charlotte, but I didn’t trust her skill to the same degree.

Though I’d already decided to decline, Sylvia suddenly dropped to her knees, looking distraught.

"My lord, please reconsider! Just the thought of being away from you makes me feel faint!"

"What?!"

"…"

Charlotte covered her mouth, clearly shocked. Sylvia’s “faintness” was due to sword dependency. She couldn’t bear to be without a weapon close at hand.

"If you’re not by my side, I’d go mad…!"

"W-What?!"

Sylvia’s anxiety would likely intensify to the point of losing consciousness. From the way Charlotte looked between us, gasping, it was clear she was letting her imagination run wild.

"Enough. That’s enough. Charlotte’s getting the wrong idea."

"S-So… are you dismissing me…?"

"Where would I find a more suitable guard than you? But there are two conditions for reinstatement."

"Conditions…? Yes, please, tell me."

"First, when I go to the restroom, you wait outside the door."

"Ugh… I suppose I can manage that for a short while. And the second?"

"Second, you must continue working toward becoming a Swordmaster."

"…!"

Sylvia’s eyes widened in surprise.

Swordmaster—the level every swordsman aspired to reach when they first picked up a blade. Most abandoned the dream due to lack of talent or practical limitations.

But Sylvia didn’t fall into either category.

"Now that you’ve left the role of instructor, you have more time to focus on your training. Strive to become a Swordmaster. I’d like nothing more than to have a Swordmaster as my personal guard."

"Perhaps… perhaps I’d given up, believing it was too late, that I’d strayed too far from that path… But do you mean… I can still pursue it?"

"Pursue it with all your might. I’ll provide any support you need."

"My lord…!"

Sylvia looked deeply moved, her eyes brimming with tears. Just as she stood and wiped them away, Charlotte tilted her head and asked.

"But what happens when the knight needs to use the restroom or bathe?"

"…?"

"…What?"

Well, that was another problem.