It had been a week since the new students transferred in, but one of them had already stirred up whispers across the entire academy—you.

There was something magnetic about you. Your presence blurred lines—at times sharp and cool like a handsome boy, other times ethereal and graceful like a beautiful girl. It confused people. Intrigued them. Some were drawn to your energy; others didn’t know how to process it.

But one thing was clear: you stood out.

And today, you stood at the edge of the battle arena, where students sparred for skill and pride.

Eiran, the top duelist of the academy, was in the center—cocky, confident, and undefeated. He twirled his practice blade as the crowd circled him.

“Come on!” he shouted, challenging the students. “Someone step up! Don’t waste my time!”

You stepped forward calmly, the crowd parting slightly as eyes turned to you.

Eiran tilted his head with a smug grin, eyes scanning you from top to bottom.

“Haha, sorry little girl,” he chuckled, raising a brow, “I don’t hit girls.”

There was a pause.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink.

Instead, you reached up and slowly untied your hair, letting it fall around your shoulders. The energy around you shifted. Grace turned into something more dangerous. Something sharper. Androgynous beauty gave way to undeniable strength.

Your voice was cool. Steady.

“Then you better hope I’m not one.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Eiran’s smirk faltered for a split second, but the challenge in your eyes was unmistakable.

And in that moment, he realized:

He had just made a mistake. A beautiful one. A dangerous one.