The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the academy grounds as Marcus made his way toward the estate with purposeful strides. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the academy’s new entrance exam arrangents – since Ambrose had only regained consciousness just the day before and had yet to leave his room, he felt compelled to share this information with him. As the party’s leader, Marcus wanted to hear his thoughts and arrangents.
His determined pace faltered as a familiar figure stepped into his path. Sarah Winters – the sight of her stirred mories of a shared childhood, though those days felt like they belonged to another lifeti entirely. Now, he guessed she had probably beco one of Lysander’s subordinates. In his previous life, he had watched her dedication to Lysander’s party transform into bitter disappointnt when she was discarded even before his own expulsion. A twinge of sympathy flickered through him, rembering their forr friendship, but he quickly suppressed it. The present held more pressing concerns.
Without breaking stride, Marcus attempted to move past her, deliberately avoiding any acknowledgnt. Sarah’s hand shot out, catching his sleeve. "Wait!" she called, her voice carrying a note of desperation that made him pause.
Sarah studied his profile with growing confusion. The Marcus before her seed fundantally different from the childhood friend she rembered – the one she had been certain harbored feelings for her. His complete indifference to her presence felt jarring, almost unnatural. For a mont, she wondered if this was so elaborate act, was he playing hard to get?
Before she could fully process these thoughts, Marcus yanked his arm free with casual dismissal, resuming his walk without a backward glance. The gesture left her montarily stunned, but she quickly recovered, hurrying to match his pace. Whatever had caused this change in him was irrelevant – she had a mission from Lysander to complete.
Marcus’s display of power in the dungeon had impressed even her. Though she had always known about his obsession with swordsmanship and his top-level talent, the skill he’d demonstrated exceeded anything she could have imagined. The transformation seed impossible for such a short ti fra.
"What do you want?" Marcus’s dismissive tone cut through her musings.
"Wha?" Caught off guard by his directness, Sarah quickly composed herself. "Never mind. Do you want to join our party? We are only one person short."
Marcus’s knowing look made her shift uncomfortably. "Lysander?" he asked, though it sounded more like a statent.
"Yes, yes! He’s the party leader," she confird eagerly. "He’s also soone from the ten gr—"
"Not interested!" Marcus cut her off, brushing past her once again. He paused briefly, adding over his shoulder, "And I suggest you leave too." The warning carried genuine concern, though he knew better than to expect her to heed it. Her fate, like before, would be her own choice.
Sarah watched his retreating back with mounting frustration. His newfound arrogance baffled her – what had happened during their ti apart to cause such a dramatic change? Had he developed so strange affectations? She pursued him once more, undeterred by his obvious dismissal.
"I told you, I’m not interested in joining your party," Marcus repeated firmly.
Her patience finally snapped. Was this all so ploy to make her beg? Did he really think himself too good for Lysander’s party? "Stop being difficult!" she snapped, her voice echoing down the road. "The young master saw your fight earlier and is impressed by your skills, you should appreciate this chance!"
Their heated exchange carried through the road, unknowingly drawing the attention of two figures who had just erged from the nearby gate.
…
The scene unfolding before Ambrose and Hualing drew an imdiate frown from the young noble. "Who’s this bitch trying to take my regressor from ?" he wondered, his mind already categorizing this as a serious threat to his carefully assembled party dynamics. They approached the pair with asured steps, Hualing’s presence radiating silent nace beside him.
Marcus’s attention imdiately shifted upon noticing them, completely dismissing Sarah as he hurried toward Ambrose. "Young master, I was just about to co find you!"
"Hm, why do I feel like I’ve heard this exact dialogue before?" Ambrose mused silently, before focusing on the more pressing matter at hand. He hadn’t anticipated such a brazen attempt to poach his valuable resources – he ntally corrected himself – valuable people. His keen eyes assessed both Marcus and Sarah, quickly deducing their shared history. The childhood friend route, he noted with an internal sigh. Not the worst possible scenario, but certainly problematic.
His first priority was determining any lingering attachnt on Marcus’s part. If such feelings existed, he’d need to brainw– he caught himself – carefully explain why such relationships were dood to failure. "That can wait," he said aloud, then turned his attention to Sarah. "A friend of yours?"
Sarah shifted nervously under his scrutiny. Though Ambrose’s slight fra and blindfolded appearance might have seed unthreatening, his presence carried an undeniable weight. More imdiately concerning was Hualing’s predatory gaze – Sarah hadn’t forgotten watching her tear apart that monster in the dungeon. The maid’s hostile aura suggested she’d gladly replicate that performance given the slightest provocation.
Unknown to Sarah, her re proximity to Ambrose had automatically categorized her as a threat in Hualing’s mind, regardless of her actual intentions.
"We’re just acquaintances," Marcus stated flatly, surprising even Ambrose with the genuine dismissal in his tone. Sarah’s visible shock at this declaration told its own story, one that Ambrose quickly pieced together: likely friends in Marcus’s previous life until she abandoned him for more prestigious connections. The theory satisfied his analytical mind.
A subtle smile played across Ambrose’s lips as he recognized an opportunity to help his regressor deliver so well-deserved face slapping. He stepped forward, Hualing following like a deadly shadow, her hand already resting on her sword’s hilt. Marcus watched with nervous anticipation, uncertain of his young master’s intentions.
Standing before Sarah, Ambrose allowed his aura to fill the space between them. Though she couldn’t see his eyes behind the blindfold, Sarah felt the weight of his attention like a physical pressure. His smile, when it ca, carried an edge sharp enough to cut.
"My friend here doesn’t seem to want to join your party," he began, his tone deceptively pleasant. "But since your young master insists, why don’t you have him co discuss this personally? I’m quite interested in who values my friend so... highly." The pause before that final word carried volus of implied aning, transforming a simple statent into an elegant threat.
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