I didn’t answer immediately. I made sure to look shaken. Not scared—troubled. Like something was clawing at the back of my mind and I couldn’t shake it.
"There’s something wrong," I said finally, voice low.
He raised a brow. "Wrong?"
"Something bad is about to happen during the match." I stepped closer, keeping my voice steady even though my palms were clammy. "I don’t know how I know. But... I just do."
The guard didn’t move.
I wasn’t sure what reaction I expected—maybe laughter, maybe a scoff—but he just kept staring at me, trying to read between the lines.
"Are you saying you’re unwell?" he asked cautiously. "Should I call for medical?"
"No, it’s not that kind of thing. Listen, just—" I clenched my jaw. "What if there’s a breach? What if someone gets inside the arena?"
His brows drew together.
"There are guards posted. Surveillance. Security checks. You think someone would slip past all that just to attack a bunch of cadets?"
Tension hung in the air between us like a pulled string.
And then, finally, he sighed. "You’re nervous. That’s normal."
"I’m not just nervous." I took a step forward. "I’m telling you, something is coming. If we don’t act now, people could die."
The guard folded his arms again, but this time he didn’t look dismissive. If anything, he looked... conflicted.
"You’re a prospective cadet," he said quietly. "Not even fully enrolled. And you’re telling me there’s going to be an attack that none of our systems picked up?"
If I was going to die anyway, I might as well go down screaming the truth.
"That’s right. There’s going to be an attack."
"Excuse me? Are you really feeling unwell?"
No I’m not.
—5 minutes and 30 seconds.
"In less than five minutes, someone’s going to attack this acadmy. I don’t know the exact details, but a villain—no, a group—is going to launch a surprise assault."
He said nothing.
So I kept talking, faster now, words tumbling out like I could outrun my fate if I just explained fast enough.
"There’s a bomb—or magic trap, or both. I don’t know how they smuggled it in, but the first strike is coming here. People will die. Students. Faculty. I’m trying to avoid that."
Still silence.
The guard just stared at me, expression unreadable.
Then he exhaled, long and slow.
"...I see."
I waited.
Waited for him to raise an alarm. Do anything.
Instead—
"You’ve read far too many manhwa, Cadet Evans."
He stepped forward, voice firm.
"If this is your idea of a joke, let me be clear—false alarms for normal reason is immediate disciplinary action. Now go back inside, I will call you when you’re time to match is near."
—4 minutes left.
I blinked.
He wasn’t just ignoring me.
He didn’t believe me.
"I’m not lying," I said, stepping back. "I’m not joking."
He didn’t even glance at the stage. He just crossed his arms.
"Return. To. Your. Spot."
That was it.
No one was coming to save me.
No one was going to listen.
In the story, Rin Evans died right here because no one saw him coming. Because no one cared. Because to them, he was just one more student.
And right now?
He still was.
Except I wasn’t planning on dying with him.
"Let go," I said, my voice tight with frustration.
I turned my back to him.
Screw this.
I tried. I tried. Warned him, gave him the benefit of the doubt, hoped that maybe—maybe—this world had some semblance of logic. But no. Same result. Just like before. Just like the first time Rin Evans died, no one gave a damn what he had to say.
So I had no choice but to act alone.
—3 minutes, 50 seconds.
I reentered the room, slamming the door behind me harder than I intended. My heart was pounding in my ears now—not out of fear, but fury. Fine. If they wanted to treat me like some twitchy first-year crying wolf, let them. I’d survive despite them.
My eyes darted back to the mirror. Nothing had changed. Still the same bench, the same reflection. Still the same scrawny frame of Rin Evans staring back at me.
But now, something was different.
Resolve.
I stepped up to the mirror, placed my palms against the cold glass, and stared myself down.
-----
[Ryen’s POV]
"I almost lost this time. I was just lucky that I managed to get him out of the boundary."
Ryen muttered himself as he walked in the corridors of the Velcrest Academy, his destination was his wating room as he was going to have some rest before the final ends.
After the final ends, there’s going to opning ceremony and Ryen’s wants to be in his best conditions when he attended that.
As he was about to take right turn he heard some distance voice, maybe an argument.
Out of curiosity he moved in that direction and found one guard and cadet were arguing with each other.
—There are guards posted. Surveillance. Security checks. You think someone would slip past all that just to attack a bunch of cadets?
—You’re nervous. That’s normal.
—There’s going to be an attack.
’An attack?’
Ryen narrowed his eyes as he looked towards them
—There’s a bomb—or magic trap, or both. I don’t know how they smuggled it in, but the first strike is coming here. People will die. Students. Faculty. I’m trying to avoid that.
Ryen’s brows furrowed as he listened from the shadows.
A bomb?
A trap?
It was easy to brush off as paranoia—cadets getting cold feet before a big match wasn’t new. But this wasn’t some trembling novice whispering nonsense. This guy meant what he said. His tone, his stance, the urgency in his voice—it all screamed truth. Or at least his truth.
And that was the dangerous kind.
Ryen stepped closer, just enough to get a good look at the cadet’s face when the door slammed shut.
"...Who is he?"
Throwing around words like attack, bomb, and death right before one of the most high-profile exhibitions of the year?
That wasn’t just suicidal—it was suspicious.
Ryen waited a moment until the guard exhaled sharply and muttered something under his breath before stepping away from the door, arms stiff at his sides.
Then Ryen made his move.
"Mind telling me what that was about?"
The guard jolted, turning his head to see Ryen approaching, his uniform crisp, silver emblem of the top cadet gleaming under the hallway lights.
"Cadet Ryen—" the guard straightened, saluting instinctively. "It’s nothing, sir. Just a little pre-match nerves. The boy’s a bit unstable, I think."
"Unstable, huh?"
Ryen walked past him and rested a hand lightly against the closed door. He could still hear footsteps pacing on the other side.
"Tell me exactly what he said."
"He claimed—" the guard hesitated, "—that someone’s going to attack the academy. Soon. Mentioned a trap. Bombs. The usual conspiracy delusions."
"He seemed serious?"
"Dead serious." The guard sighed. "But Cadet Ryen, it’s clearly stress. The matches always—"
"I’ll be the judge of that," Ryen interrupted.
He looked at the door for another long second, eyes narrowing.
Something wasn’t right.
The pieces didn’t quite fit... but they weren’t random either. That guy had nothing to gain from making a scene like this—especially not right before his match. The only thing he’d earn was suspicion or punishment.
Which meant... either he was insane.
Or something really was about to happen.
And if it was—and Ryen ignored it—he’d never forgive himself.