Chapter 10: Fortunate because of hatred

Lyra had long planned out Simon’s training.

The first step was physical conditioning. From her observation, Simon had never undergone formal training before, but because he was always working, his physique wasn’t bad.

Long-distance running was meant to improve his endurance, while push-ups and lifting stones were for building the strength a swordsman needed.

“Simon, this isn’t your limit, is it? Keep going a little longer.”

Looking at Simon drenched in sweat, Lyra spoke expressionlessly. Though her tone sounded calm, it carried an unquestionable command.

If Simon thought she was simply trying to torment him, he was wrong.

Lyra genuinely wanted to help him become a swordsman, and win the tournament.

As for why…

Perhaps, as a villain, she simply didn’t want him to escape her grasp.

After all, if someone performed too poorly at Cather Academy, they could be expelled outright.

If she wanted to keep “tormenting” Simon, she had to make sure he passed the final exam, keep him by her side, and keep him hating her forever.

After Simon finished his physical training, Lyra began teaching him proper sword grip and correct ways to exert force.

“Hold this. Don’t move.”

She handed him an unsharpened iron sword.

“You saw what I did just now. Hold it like that.”

Simon took it, only to realize it was much heavier than he had imagined. He had to tense his arms just to keep it steady.

‘Like this…?’

He recalled Lyra’s posture, gripping the hilt, leaning slightly forward, the blade angled upward.

But it felt awkward. He kept adjusting his fingers.

Seeing this, Lyra shook her head ever so slightly, inwardly exasperated by how clumsy he was.

Without thinking, she stepped forward and grabbed his hand.

Simon’s body trembled instinctively, as if he wanted to pull away.

Lyra frowned. She knew he disliked her, but she hadn’t expected such resistance.

She lifted her chin slightly, her gaze turning sharp.

“Simon, don’t move!”

Her tone was cold and firm.

Only then did the hand she held stop resisting.

Slowly, she guided his fingers into the correct position.

“Hold it like this. Got it?”

“Got it.”

His voice was cold, but there was an unmistakable tremor in it.

Lyra noticed his inner turmoil, but she didn’t care.

To her, Simon was nothing more than a tool. As long as he hated her, that was enough.

Then she moved his hand, guiding him through a swing.

His hands felt rough to her.

Once, she had hands like that too, for twenty years.

But fate had changed everything. Now her hands were pale and delicate… but they had lost their former strength.

If only she were still a man.

Then she wouldn’t be this fragile.

Still… being able to live again was already a miracle.

“Swing like that. Try it.”

Lyra let go and stepped back, letting him demonstrate.

As soon as she released him, Simon unconsciously relaxed his breathing.

‘What is wrong with this woman… just grabbing my hand like that…’

‘Soft… a little cold…’

He had thought about it many times, if Lyra weren’t such a cruel noble girl, she would probably be very popular.

At least… not someone everyone feared.

Shaking off the thought, Simon tried to replicate the motion.

He swung downward, but the weight of the sword threw off his balance, forcing him to struggle just to stay upright.

“Tch. What a weakling.”

Lyra commented, rubbing her forehead as she thought.

“Then today, just swing the sword two thousand times.”

Simon’s heart nearly stopped.

Of course. He should never have imagined Lyra might change.

Rather than hoping for that, it would be more realistic to hope for some accident that would free him from her control forever.

But for now, he had no choice.

Under her watchful gaze, he began swinging the sword.

Again.

And again…

Sweat flew with each motion. Every swing sent sharp pain through his muscles, like countless needles piercing him.

His palms went numb. Each time he gripped the hilt, it felt like electric currents were running through his hands, causing spasms.

But this… he could endure.

Compared to the bone-deep agony of those monsters devouring him in his nightmares…

This was nothing.

“Alright. You can stop.”

Finally.

Simon drove the sword into the ground and leaned on it for support, Lyra didn’t allow him to sit.

After a long silence, his strength slowly returned, though his muscles still felt stiff, like rusted gears.

Lyra stepped forward again, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Alright, Simon. You’ve rested enough. Now for the third stage.”

She picked up a wooden sword and pointed it at him.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

“Now it’s sparring. I’ll allow you to attack first.”

Simon knew that “letting him go first” was just a formality.

His body was exhausted. He couldn’t muster strength.

Lyra, on the other hand, was in perfect condition.

And he was just a beginner.

Once again, he was beaten down completely.

He couldn’t even get close.

Each strike of the wooden sword knocked him back, she showed no mercy.

Pain flooded his body.

He was easily thrown to the ground. His iron sword was knocked several meters away.

Every part of him screamed in agony.

Clutching his arm, he slowly forced himself up.

“Simon, you might be wondering… why I treat you so cruelly.”

Lyra stood there, watching his miserable state, a twisted smile of satisfaction on her face.

“The answer is, there is no reason. Your sense of reverence isn’t enough.”

“Yes, Miss.”

Simon gritted his teeth, suppressing all emotion.

“Good that you understand.”

Lyra spoke as if disciplining a dog.

She tossed aside the sword casually.

“You can leave now. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

“I’ll take my leave, Miss.”

Simon lowered his head. His black hair covered his eyes.

Lyra couldn’t see what emotions lay within them.

Even if she could, it wouldn’t change anything.

She was, after all, a complete villain.

She watched as he limped away, disappearing from sight.

“I really don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

A low voice sounded behind her.

Lyra turned. Ulysses was walking toward her.

She had already noticed the elusive Sword Saint’s presence, so she wasn’t surprised.

“At first, I was surprised you were actually teaching him. I didn’t think someone like you would bother.”

Ulysses continued.

“But just when I thought you were sincere, you beat him half to death. What exactly are you thinking?”

Lyra’s expression didn’t change. She merely glanced at him coldly.

“No comment, Ulysses. And you don’t need to worry about his injuries. Someone will heal him.”

She turned and began walking toward the exit.

“I’ll be watching you. Don’t go too far.”

“Do as you like.”

Without looking back, Lyra left those words behind.

Her figure soon disappeared from Ulysses’ sight.