The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 101: Last Two Days [3]

Professor Lena was known for her calm and graceful presence, always soft-spoken and patient during lectures.

But when it came to hand-to-hand combat?

That calm melted away, replaced by a razor-sharp intensity that demanded attention.

Suddenly, she wasn’t just a professor anymore. She was a fighter. A warrior. Someone who could knock you flat before you even realized you’d blinked—and look graceful doing it.

"In this age," she began, pacing slowly in front of us, "where more and more people are born with gifts, and magic is as common as smartphones used to be, traditional martial arts are often overlooked."

Her eyes scanned the class. Some students shifted awkwardly, probably guilty of that exact thought.

"But I’ll be blunt with you—boxing, kickboxing, even judo or wrestling—they still work."

She stopped, turning to face us fully.

"Magic is flashy. Useful, sure. But what happens when your magic runs dry? Or you’re caught off guard in close quarters?"

She raised an eyebrow, letting the question hang.

"That’s when this stuff matters."

Without warning, she took a stance—legs slightly bent, fists raised, weight balanced. There was no dramatic aura, no glowing runes, just... control.

She hopped forward with a bounce in her step and delivered a sharp roundhouse kick to the heavy sandbag dangling from the ceiling.

Bang!

The sound echoed through the gym, the impact crisp and satisfying. The bag swung violently to one side like it had just been struck by a truck.

All around me, jaws dropped.

Even I had to admit it—that was cool.

Her movements were fluid, powerful. And somehow, in that moment, her usual professional air mixed with something fierce. Confident. Almost... badass.

"You won’t always have a sword in your hand," she said, stretching her leg with a casual ease that made it clear she did this daily. "And magic won’t always save you."

She turned back to us, her tone firm but encouraging.

"That’s why we start with the basics. Today, you’ll learn three things: how to throw a proper punch, how to break a grip, and how to not look like a fish out of water while doing either."

A few students chuckled. One guy in the back muttered something under his breath about "not signing up for MMA," but quickly shut up when Professor Lena fixed him with a look.

I glanced down at my hands. I wasn’t exactly cut out for brawling, but... something about the way she carried herself made me want to give it a shot.

Besides, if I ever lost my magic mid-fight and ended up in a villain’s grip?

Yeah. Knowing how to knee someone in the face sounded like a pretty solid backup plan.

"Pair up!" Professor Lena clapped her hands, and the sound snapped through the gym like a whip.

Groans echoed almost immediately.

"Don’t worry," she added with a smirk. "You’re not fighting yet. Just practice the basics."

I glanced around, hoping I wouldn’t get paired with someone who looked like they’d bench-pressed bears for fun. Too late.

A tall guy with short black hair and arms like tree trunks turned toward me. "You got a partner?"

"Uh..." I looked behind me, pretending someone else might be free. No one was. "...I guess I do now."

He grinned. "Cool. I’m Drex."

"Rin," I muttered. My arms already felt sore from this morning’s dumbbell session. Great. More training.

"All right," Lena called. "Let’s start with breaking a wrist grab. Pretty basic, but if you don’t learn the right angles, it won’t work—no matter how strong you are."

She walked us through the motions—step by step. If someone grabs your wrist, you don’t yank back. That’s what rookies do. Instead, you rotate toward the thumb, step in, and pull sharply with your whole body. Easy in theory.

In practice?

Drex’s hand clamped down like a manacle.

I gritted my teeth and tried the movement.

Twist, step, pull—

"Gah—!" I nearly toppled backward, but to his credit, Drex let go before I actually fell.

"Not bad," he said. "You’re lighter than I expected."

"Thanks?" I said, brushing myself off, trying not to sound insulted.

From the corner of my eye, I saw others struggling too. One girl slapped her partner by mistake. Another fell flat on her back with a loud thud.

Lena moved between groups like a shark, adjusting stances and correcting form with effortless ease.

When she stopped beside me, I straightened up reflexively.

"Drex, was it?" she asked.

He nodded, trying to hide how out of breath he already was.

"You’re using too much force with your arms. Focus on your hips. Let your whole body help you, not just your biceps."

She demonstrated on Drex—who looked genuinely nervous.

"Grab me," she said.

"...Are you sure?"

Lena smirked. "Do it."

The moment he reached out, her body shifted, and bam—in one blink, she’d spun around and Drex was somehow bent over, gasping.

She didn’t even break a sweat.

"That’s how you do it," she said, brushing imaginary dust off her palms.

A murmur of impressed awe spread across the room.

"...Did she just judo-throw him?" someone whispered.

"She’s insane."

Yeah. That sounded about right.

By the time class ended, my wrists were sore, my pride was slightly bruised, and I’d gained a whole new respect for close-range combat.

But more than that... I felt good.

Like, really good.

I wasn’t magically stronger or faster. I still had the upper body strength of a wet noodle.

But there was something satisfying about learning to move like that. About being taught by someone who could kill you with a look and still offer a friendly smile after.

As I packed up my things, Drex gave me a thumbs-up.

"You’re not bad, Rin. Just don’t try to suplex me next time."

"No promises."

I left the gym exhausted but... energized in a weird way.

This place might still kill me.

But at least I’d know how to throw a punch when it did.

---

Back in her dorm room, Kiera lay on her bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the hum of the air circulator barely registering in her ears. The day’s events replayed over and over in her head like a loop she couldn’t pause.

"Rin thinks about you a lot. He’s a really good kid. I hope you apologize to him properly and become friends."

Ryen’s words had sounded casual when he said them, but they’d stuck to her like thorns.

"...Rin? Thinks about me?" she’d asked, confused.

"Yeah," Ryen had replied without hesitation. "He came to me about the rumors, said it was getting out of hand. He asked me to talk to the others. He said, ’At the very least, if people are going to talk, it should be based on truth.’"

Now that she was alone, Kiera couldn’t stop thinking about that.

Gratitude was the first thing she felt—unexpected, maybe undeserved. But it was there. Warm and painful.

And then came the guilt.

Because she had tried to make him look small.

She’d told people he was pretending to be humble, that his kindness was fake, that he was trying too hard to please. That maybe he was just another wannabe hero hoping for attention.

But the way he fought during sparring—firm but not cruel, calm but unyielding—wasn’t the behavior of someone shallow. He didn’t have the flair of a prodigy, no flashy magic or loud declarations. But there was something solid about him. Something real.

And the fact that he’d gone to Ryen—probably the most socially powerful guy in their year—meant he knew exactly where he stood. Rin hadn’t tried to lecture or argue with everyone one by one. He’d chosen someone who could influence the others. That wasn’t naïve. That was smart.

He didn’t act like he was above them. But clearly, he wasn’t beneath them either.

Kiera rolled over, pressing her cheek into the pillow. She felt... small. Not because of what Rin had done—but because of what she hadn’t.

She’d laughed at the jokes. Let the rumors spread. Added fuel to them when it was convenient. She’d thought it made her seem stronger, above it all.

But if Rin could stand up without being loud—if he could care, and still not fold under pressure—what did that make her?

A sigh escaped her lips, muffled by the pillow.

"Idiot," she muttered. She wasn’t sure if she was talking about him... or herself.

Probably herself.

It was easy to misunderstand him.

With that long, unkempt hair, those round glasses that always slipped down his nose, and the way he shrank into himself like he was trying not to exist—he looked every bit the stereotypical nerd. The kind you’d expect to find in the library corner, whispering to himself about mana formulas.

A loser, really.

But maybe... he wasn’t.

Maybe he was actually kind of competent.

"Well, that’s probably why Leo noticed him," she muttered to herself.

She tried not to smile. I’m not laughing. I’m definitely not laughing.

But the truth was, she was curious. There was something quietly persistent about him—like he was always one second away from doing something unexpected. And that bothered her.

Or maybe it intrigued her.

"That loser," she said out loud, testing the words like she was still trying to believe them.

But then her voice softened.

"...I think I want to be friends with him."

It was ridiculous. Even she knew that. Selfish, too.

After everything that had happened—everything she had done—why would he even consider that?

But he didn’t seem to hate her.

That was the strangest part.

If it were her in his shoes, she’d already be plotting revenge. Smiling to his face while sticking knives in his back.

But not him.

He was... still kind. Still polite. Awkward and shaky, sure, but not cold. Not cruel.

Hopeful, even.

She felt a pang in her chest. Guilt, maybe.

"...I should probably stop calling him ’loser,’ huh?"

The words tasted weird as she said them—like letting go of a label she used to keep him at arm’s length.

Because the truth was, she didn’t really see him that way anymore.

Not after watching him try. Again and again. Not after the way he spoke to her like she was just another person—not a noble, not someone dangerous, not someone untouchable.

He didn’t look at her like everyone else did.

And that scared her.

But you know you can’t like me, right, loser? I like Leo, after all.

She closed her eyes.

—Fuck you.

She almost smiled again, but this time, it was sad.

Because he didn’t know it—but maybe... maybe she had already started liking him.

---

Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.

It’s my first novel so if there’s any kind of mistakes you find in the novel related to grammar please tell me and I’ll edit it as soon as possible.