The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 88: Morning Agony

"Gods," she muttered hoarsely. "Why does food have to hurt?"

"That’s what happens when you go full masochist on your first real weekend."

She groaned again and flopped back onto the bed.

"I regret everything."

I sat down in the chair nearby, crossing my arms.

"No, no. You were right, remember? I was the scaredy-cat. The weak one. The—what did you say again? ’Mild sauce is for toddlers’?"

She waved her hand weakly at me without looking up.

"I take it back. I take everything back."

I couldn’t help laughing.

For her first weekend as a normal teenager, she really went all in. Singing, spicy food, zero self-preservation. It was kind of impressive, honestly.

"Don’t worry," I said, patting her shoulder. "You’ll survive. Probably. Just... next time, stick to medium spice, okay?"

She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "traitor," but she was too far gone to argue.

Looking at her, I couldn’t help but think about yesterday.

[Flashback — at the Karaoke Room]

The moment we stepped into the neon-lit karaoke booth, Leona’s eyes widened like she’d just entered some kind of sacred temple.

"So this is karaoke?" she whispered, her gaze darting between the glittering disco ball, the flashing LED lights, and the touchscreen song menu like she’d stumbled across ancient, forbidden tech. "It’s... loud."

"That’s kind of the point," I said, flopping onto the couch and grabbing the remote. "This is a no-shame zone. Just you, the mic, and your dignity left at the door."

She sat beside me slowly, eyeing the microphone like it might explode. "And people do this... willingly?"

"Yes. Regular people. Like us. Now come on, pick something."

"I don’t know any of these songs."

"Well, lucky for you, I’ve been training for this my whole life."

I picked a catchy pop song—easy melody, dumb lyrics, total crowd-pleaser—and threw myself into it with zero hesitation. My voice cracked a little at first, but by the chorus I was jumping around like a maniac, pointing at imaginary fans and overacting every line like I was on a world tour.

Leona looked mortified.

At first.

But then—slowly—something changed. Her lips twitched. Her eyes crinkled.

And just like that, she smiled.

Not the careful kind. A real one.

Before the next song started, she reached for the second mic with the same expression someone might wear before diffusing a bomb.

"I’ll try one," she mumbled. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

We did a duet. She was stiff, off-beat, but her voice? Surprisingly steady. Kinda nice, actually. The more we sang, the more relaxed she got.

By the third song, she was bobbing along.

By the fifth, she was up and doing weird little air guitar moves.

By the seventh, she was full-on screaming the lyrics to some anime opening like it was a battle cry from Mount Olympus.

Time flew.

Before we knew it, food arrived—kimchi fried rice, crispy pork cutlets, and soda.

And that’s when the night turned into a warzone.

Leona glanced at my mild cutlet and raised an eyebrow. "That’s it? Thought you had more guts than that."

I narrowed my eyes. "Don’t start."

Too late.

With the smug grin of someone about to make a terrible decision, she ordered the extra spicy cutlet—just to prove a point.

First bite: her eyes widened.

Second bite: she started hiccupping like a broken engine.

Third bite: she stared into the void, questioning every life choice that led her here.

But did she stop?

No.

She powered through it with the grit of a soldier behind enemy lines. Because pride is a hell of a drug.

Fast forward to now—she’s curled up under a blanket, clutching her stomach like it betrayed her.

Lesson learned? Maybe.

Probably.

...Yeah, no. She’s totally doing that again someday.

I smirked. Call me petty, but she called me a scaredy-cat. That kind of insult doesn’t go unpunished.

She managed to sit up, wobbling like someone who just walked off a boat. I had a strong suspicion she wanted to head to the restroom, but unfortunately for her... I was still here.

Honestly, it was kind of pitiful. A top-tier heroine, reduced to using all her endurance stats for bathroom survival.

But hey, heroines are human too.

And judging by the desperate glint in her eyes, I’d say revenge was complete.

I stood, stretching casually. "Alright, I’ll get going."

"Wait..." her voice was weak but stubborn, and it actually caught me off guard. I’d expected her to want me gone, not stop me.

"Huh? I’ve got some errands to run. I’ll be back before dinner."

She paused, shifting slightly under the blanket. "Can you grab me something sweet while you’re out?"

I smiled. "Sure. I’ll find something soft. Nothing spicy, I promise."

"Good..." she muttered, already sinking back down.

As I stepped out the door, I glanced back at her one last time. Her eyes were half-lidded, but the ghost of a smile was still there.

Honestly?

That was the most fun I’d had in a long time.

----

Leona’s POV

The moment the door shut behind him, I collapsed backward into the mess of pillows like a soldier retreating from the battlefield.

My mouth was still on fire.

Why did I do that?

Why did I eat the entire cutlet when my tongue begged me to stop after the second bite? I was not proving anything—except maybe that I was stubborn to a fault.

I pressed the back of my hand against my forehead, letting out a long, slow exhale.

"Idiot," I muttered to myself.

Though... I wasn’t sure if I meant him or me.

Probably both.

Rin had left like he always did—careless posture, hands in his pockets, some teasing comment right before the door closed. I didn’t ask him to stay. I wouldn’t. But...

He was quick to leave.

My stomach twisted again, not from the spice this time, but from something harder to pin down. I rolled over, hugging the pillow to my chest, burying my face in the soft fabric.

It still smelled like the karaoke booth—cheap fabric, snacks, and the faintest trace of his cologne. He really had no right to sing that badly and still be that entertaining.

I should be mad. Or embarrassed. Or something.

Instead, I found myself smiling into the pillow, just a little.

Maybe it was the food poisoning.

Maybe it was the sheer absurdity of the night.

Or maybe it was the way he looked at me when I sang—like I wasn’t ridiculous, like I was someone worth watching.

I reached down to pull off the jacket I’d borrowed earlier, letting it fall beside me. The loose shirt underneath shifted a little, reminding me of what I was still wearing.

Right.

I sat up slowly, brushing my bangs back and staring at myself in the mirror across the room.

Boy’s clothes.

Technically.

Baggy hoodie, oversized slacks I had to belt tight just to keep from slipping. The collar was stretched out from where I’d tugged at it earlier. My binder was still on underneath, just tight enough to flatten things out.

I’d gotten used to it—moving this way, dressing this way.

It was easier.

Safer.

Smarter.

With Rin it’s always fun.

I couldn’t help but thought about yesterday.

In fact yesterday was day that I know that place like ’Karoke’ exists in this world.

Growing into nobel family didn’t allow me to know about common culture of the world.

But now I could explore —

At that moment, I couldn’t help but stop my thoughts.

The pain in my stomach made a sudden comeback, wrenching my thoughts back to the present. I hissed through my teeth and muttered something sharp under my breath, dragging myself upright.

"Never again," I groaned, holding my side.

That idiot better come back with ice cream.