Namgung Se-ga, the warrior, was reincarnated in Romance

Perhaps it was because we had talked about him last time. On the way back after the basic magic and formula principles class, I unknowingly paused when I heard the sound of loud, cheerful laughter.

On the east side of the Shierun Academy, there was the swordsmanship department, and on the west side, the magic department, each with several training fields and buildings. To the north, the buildings for law, business, and other subjects for those who were considered to have a bit of intellect took up space. The dormitories and shared spaces were located in the central area, making it easy to move around.

The laughter had come from the shared space near the sports field.

Curious, I chose not to take my usual shortcut but walked along the path that curved around and overlooked the field.

Though I often heard the sounds of people talking and laughing near the large sports field or shared spaces on my way to and from the dormitory, this was the first time I had deliberately stopped to follow and find the source of the laughter.

It seemed like they were playing a game of “Chukguk” (an ancient ball game similar to soccer). Boys and girls with their hair tightly tied up were running after a high-quality leather ball.

Their limbs were long and strong, a clear sign that they were from the swordsmanship department. Familiar faces mixed with unfamiliar ones were playing together.

I couldn’t help but feel happy when I saw the excitement of the referee, who was jumping around and shouting out the score.

Even back in the Central Plains, I would sometimes see children running after balls made from pig bladders inflated with air.

Sometimes, there were complaints about how the street vendors’ stalls were being ruined or dust flying everywhere, but seeing children, around ten years old, running after a round ball had the same charm as watching little puppies play together, and I found it enjoyable.

I walked on, watching those kids, who were skilled at kicking the ball instead of swinging swords with their well-trained limbs.

One of the good things about being at the academy was that I could see such young, carefree children laughing, shouting, and playing. It made me feel warm and content.

They tumbled and spilled from one side to the other, but since they had learned how to fall properly, they got up without injury and kept running.

At this point, it was still hard for me to tell them apart, so I often had to guess who they were by their hair color. But as I started to remember a few familiar faces, I was able to recognize more of them.

Lucilla Anti Shierun, the Third Princess of the Shierun Empire, was said to possess as much strength as her twin brother, yet she often publicly declared that everything born into the world has life but no mission.

She had repeatedly declared that she wasn’t interested in the throne and enjoyed searching for fascinating and fun things. She loved mingling with people, appreciating the extravagant, and valuing expensive things, which meant she was always surrounded by people.

It seemed that what they said about her was true.

The girl with brown hair tied up high, with a shiny ribbon, was easy to spot from afar.

Her radiant smile, as she playfully hung her arm around the neck of some boy, laughing and shouting loudly, naturally drew attention. Her expression was pure and untainted.

Her white pants were stained with dirt, but her boots, which came up to her calves, shone with polish.

“Hey, hey! One more time!”

“Do you know how long we’ve been at this? The match was decided a long time ago!”

“Let’s do just two more rounds, then we’ll go eat.”

When someone begged, Lucilla, as if having no choice, grabbed the ball and kicked it high into the air. That was the signal, and everyone rushed out to chase it.

I was captivated by the peaceful scene for quite a while, until I saw another boy, covered in dust, use his leg to stop the ball and kick it into the goal marked by a line. Only then did I continue walking.

It was only natural that I thought of his brother, who was always quiet and frail.

I couldn’t help but laugh, wondering how two people born from the same womb could be so different in temperament.

I suddenly thought that Ruber, who was good with both long and short blades, probably wouldn’t be any good at something like Chukguk (the ancient ball game). His appearance and nature didn’t seem suited to being around people.

Then I had the thought that I needed to make a dinner appointment for Ruber and Shaiden, but I decided it wasn’t urgent and that I wouldn’t rush into it.

It had taken me so long to get used to difficult and uncomfortable things, but the comfortable and good things quickly became second nature to both my body and mind.

The sound of laughter was sweeter than a scream, and soft, fresh food was more delightful than something rough or bitter.

I had grown accustomed to seeing my white hands, without any scars, without them looking eerie.

After laughing and eating with my friends, I went back to the training field.

As always, there were many people around, but it didn’t bother me. I accepted the goodwill in the eyes of passersby as kindness. I straightened up and went into my familiar sword form.

Now, when I performed the 4th, 8th, and 17th movements of the Changcheon Mu-ae sword that Maelo had initially pointed out, there was no longer any murderous intent behind the movements. There was no weight of the blade meant for cutting throats, splitting bellies, or slicing thighs. Instead, I was happy to swing my sword without such dark intentions.

The many people who had once stood in front of me, people I had to kill, now appeared blurry and indistinct.

Or rather, when I saw them, I tried not to look. When I looked at a person, I focused on their expression and appearance, not the vital points or pressure points that could be deadly.

It had only been a short while since I had gotten used to smiling and shaking hands after delivering a decisive strike.

Back in the Central Plains, no one would just trust their wrist to anyone like that. Now, after two months at the academy, I had shaken the hands of more people here than I ever did back in the Central Plains.

I wondered, if I had to end someone’s life now, would it feel as shocking as my first kill, or would it feel nothing at all? The question lingered, but there was no way to answer it.

I continued my training, using the correct form to extend the Thirty Seconds.

As I had done before, I performed the sword form in reverse, bringing in correctness and precision. The sword was proper and true—taken from the life I had lost. A sword that had lost its completeness at the moment of life and death.

As I controlled my breathing, it was hard to tell whether the energy building up inside me was aura, internal power, or something else. It felt like a quiet, cold, distant sound, like the tail of a wild animal trying to hide.

When someone cheered and clapped, I raised my hand in acknowledgment.

This sense of ease was something I had learned at the Shierun Academy.

The students here loved it when I raised my hand to shoulder height and waved it gently. Though it had been unfamiliar at first, I had become accustomed to it. Now, after training, I often greeted people this way, responding to the encouragement I received.

Sometimes, when I had seen another student’s impressive sword form, I would return the applause as a gesture of admiration.

Such playful and admiring acts were, I believe, a way to strengthen the sense of community that the academy fostered. I had learned just how precious and rare it was to share the same time and place with someone else.

After finishing my own training, I watched the sword forms of several others.

* * *

The next day, in the advanced swordsmanship class, the Third Princess, Lucilla, took the stage for a sparring match.

I had observed her sword forms a few times during previous lessons. She used a free and unrestrained style, much like her own temperament.

I learned about the next form of the Siren Sword technique, which one of my friends used during the basic swordsmanship class, from Maelo Sanson, who explained it to me.

The way her aura flowed, resembling waves that rolled, connected, and surged, was fascinating.

Once again, I felt a gaze brushing against my cheek, so I turned my head.

Perhaps because we were a bit closer now, I had grown somewhat used to Ruber not focusing on the class and looking my way, and I didn’t feel the urge to scold him. When our eyes met as I casually glanced at him, he smiled, so I smiled back. I let my lips curl into a smile and turned my gaze back to the sparring field.

Lucilla Anti-Sierun, the Third Princess, kicked her opponent’s knee to trip them, and as they rolled on the ground, the opponent narrowly avoided her sword. Despite this, the sparring continued without pause. The opponent, who had been rolling on the floor several times, managed to place one arm on the ground, using that leverage to spring up.

Their swords clashed again, the blades sliding along each other with a forceful impact.

In the Central Plains, rolling on the ground to evade was considered shameful. It was believed that because of the large difference in skill between opponents, rolling on the floor would damage one’s dignity.

However, the warriors of Sierun said that it was natural for a cocoon to be wrapped in its shell before it became a butterfly. Their attitude of not regarding immediate humiliation as shameful was something truly worth learning.

Clang—!

The sound of swords colliding rang out loudly.

Eventually, Lucilla succeeded in knocking her opponent’s sword away and took a deep breath, smiling brightly. The boy whose sword she had disarmed accepted the blade pressed against his throat. He raised both hands in surrender, and Lucilla took his hand to help him up.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that the boy who had scored a goal in the football game the day before was the one she had been sparring against. Their camaraderie was visible in their actions.

“That was an impressive display of the 8th and 9th forms of the Siren Sword technique. The match ended early, so how about showing a demonstration up front, Lucilla?”

“Just the 8th and 9th forms?”

“Yes, those moves exceeded the level of a Sword Expert. The way the energy mixed with the waves, creating an intimidating display, was great. It was also good that you were holding back about 40% of your strength.”

“You’re praising me a bit too much today, Professor Sanson. You’re making me embarrassed.”

“Matt Niko. You stay out of this and just watch.”

The princess spoke with a teasing tone, positioning her sword. The boy she had just sparred with stepped back seven paces. He seemed to know the exact closest distance at which he could stand without affecting the duel.

Instead of Matt Niko, Maelo Sanson positioned himself in the sparring field.

Lucilla began her sword technique at the same speed as before, but Professor Maelo Sanson leisurely explained and deflected her sword.

Lucilla’s brow furrowed slightly, as her firm arms couldn’t easily push his sword away.

Sanson mimicked Matt Niko’s posture but occasionally demonstrated how to twist the wrist to release the force.

Once again, I felt a sense of realization. The clang, clash, and screech of the swords were loud.

“There’s no need to match force with force. It’s a principle you already know, but it’s hard to apply in real combat. When swords clash like this, if you practice using your wrist like this, you can create an opening to strike or counterattack, even when your opponent’s strength is overwhelming.”

Though the rest of his words were implied, it was clear that this would be the ultimate technique to save their lives.

A moment later, when their swords stopped, Maelo Sanson, as he always did after a sparring match, reached out for a handshake. Lucilla, gasping for breath after the intense match, grabbed his hand and growled.

Her expression was so amusing that I couldn’t help but laugh.

As I released Maelo Sanson’s firm hand and turned my head, I was briefly startled by his glance, but I didn’t wipe the smile off my face. I had remembered the goodwill that everyone in the academy had shown me.

I didn’t think that the cheerful girl would scold me over such a thing. Her sharp, dark eyes, reminiscent of Ruber, narrowed as she looked my way but then looked away.

Just like with other classmates and seniors, I thought they would approach me after class. I always enjoyed getting closer to good warriors. Before I even started a conversation, I already felt excited.