015 Heroine’s Heart - Part 1 - Mirai’s POV

I groaned, slumping further into my armchair. My pen tapped against the blank page in frustration. "Ughhh, why is this so hard?"

Luck. Probability. Fortune. What the hell was I even supposed to call this thing?

I skimmed through my dictionary, flipping through pages way too fast to actually read anything. Lucky. Fortune. Chance. Serendipity? No, that sounded like a perfume brand. Providence? Too pretentious. Fate? Too dramatic.

I started playing word association in my head. I could store luck. Release it. Stockpile it. Distribute it in bursts. Bank? Reservoir? Something about that felt right, but it wasn’t clicking yet.

Reina clapped her hands, drawing my attention back to the front. "ESP isn't just about raw ability—it’s about passion, ideal, and vision. The name you give it shapes how you use it, how others perceive it, and how it grows. If you can't name it, you don't understand it yet."

I huffed, slumping further into my chair.

To my left, Mark was already done. Two pages' worth. Of course. His handwriting was neat, his expression unreadable. He didn't even hesitate. He just knew what he wanted his ESP to be.

To my right…

I glanced at Ron.

...Never mind.

He was doodling. Not writing. Doodling. He'd drawn a little chibi version of Reina breathing fire at stick-figure students, half of whom were burning while the others ran away.

I sighed. "You're not taking this seriously at all, are you?"

Ron beamed. "I am taking it seriously. This is art."

I resisted the urge to smack the back of his head.

Maybe I needed advice. Maybe from someone who actually cared about this assignment.

My gaze shifted back to Mark.

Psycho Mark it was.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at my blank page like it had personally offended me. This was stupid. Why did naming an ESP have to be this complicated?

With a sigh, I turned to Mark. He looked... distracted. Like he was lost in his own world, thinking about something way more important than this assignment. But he seemed smart. He had already written two whole pages, which meant he at least had an idea of what he was doing.

"Hey," I nudged him with my elbow. "Got any advice?"

Mark blinked, as if snapping back to reality. He turned his gaze toward me, studying me for a second like I was some kind of puzzle.

I suddenly felt the urge to not be studied.

Then, just as I was considering dragging my chair over to Matt Wentworth instead—because he looked like a smart dude too—Mark grabbed my wrist.

"WTF, bro?" I blurted, my chair halfway off the ground.

"Just answer this," Mark said, his tone calm but firm. "Where do you see yourself ten years from now?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Ten years from now," he repeated. "What kind of person do you want to be? What do you want to accomplish? What kind of feats do you want your ESP to be capable of?"

I hesitated. That was… a lot to think about.

"I dunno," I muttered. "Hopefully not dead?"

Mark didn't react to my joke. He just stared at me expectantly, waiting for a real answer.

I glanced at my blank page, then back at him. Maybe this was worth actually thinking about.

Mark leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied me. “Naming your ESP is like naming a child.”

I stared at him. “…What?”

“That’s what my mom told me,” he said matter-of-factly. “It carries a person’s dreams and hopes. It’s not just some random label—it defines the direction of your power, what you want it to become.”

That made me pause. A name wasn’t just a name? I never really thought about it like that.

Mark continued, his tone serious. “If you don’t give it a direction, you’re just letting your power decide things for you. That’s a risk.”

I frowned. “A risk?”

“You could end up somewhere you don’t want to be.”

That hit a little too close to home.

I stared down at my empty page, Mark’s words lingering in my mind.

Direction, huh?

For a moment, my thoughts drifted back to my childhood. The orphanage. The endless days of feeling like I didn’t quite belong. I remembered the way the other kids looked at me when weird things happened around me—when I tripped but never fell, when I picked the winning ticket in every game, when food never ran out on my plate no matter how little was left.

I remembered how I used to think it was just luck. A stupid, fickle thing that came and went as it pleased.

And then, about a year and a half ago, I awakened. I realized my luck wasn’t random—it was something I could control, something I could use.

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It made me feel like a heroine in one of those stories.

For the first time, I started dreaming. Dreaming of something more than just surviving, more than just scraping by. Maybe… maybe Mark was right. Maybe I needed to name my ESP after the kind of future I wanted.

I tapped my pencil against the paper, staring at the blank space beneath my name. I had to think about what kind of life I wanted ten years from now.

I wanted to help people. That much was obvious. I also wanted to be rich. No shame in admitting that. But what else?

Fame? Maybe. I wasn’t sure.

Happiness?

Yeah… I guess I wanted that too.

I chewed on my lower lip, my gaze flicking toward Mark. His pencil moved steadily, filling the page with whatever genius thoughts he had. On my other side, Ron was still doodling nonsense on his paper. He was probably going to get scolded.

I sighed and focused back on my own work.

I wanted to be a hero in the future. The ideal one. Someone who stood for something.

But what was the most important thing to a hero?

Ideals?

Power?

The heart?

Huh. That sounded nice.

The heart.

The Heroine’s Heart.

I blinked, rolling the name around in my head. It had a nice ring to it. It fit. My power wasn’t just about luck—it was about me.

I turned to Mark, nudging him lightly. "I think I got it."

He glanced at me, looking like he was pulled out of his own thoughts. "Yeah?"

"I'll name it Heroine’s Heart."

Mark’s brows lifted slightly. He seemed surprised, but after a brief moment, he nodded. "Whatever suits you."

I grinned, feeling a little more confident, and quickly wrote the title at the top of my paper:

The Heroine’s Heart.

Now, I just had to write the rest.

Heroine’s Heart

“A hero is someone who stands for something greater than themselves. Some say it’s about power—the strength to protect others. Some say it’s about ideals—the vision that shapes the world. But to me, the most important thing a hero needs is heart.

“The heart is what keeps a hero moving forward, even when the odds are stacked against them. It’s what makes them rise after every fall, what makes them care even when it’s easier not to. Strength without heart is just violence. Ideals without heart are just empty words. But with heart, even the weakest person can become someone great.

“My ESP allows me to store, release, and control luck. Some might think luck is just chance, a roll of the dice, but I believe it’s more than that. Luck is possibility. It’s the belief that things can change, that no matter how impossible something seems, there’s always a way forward. That’s what Heroine’s Heart means to me. It’s not just about luck—it’s about the courage to trust in the future, to take risks, and to never give up.

“I don’t know what kind of person I’ll be in ten years. But I do know that no matter what happens, I want to be someone who never loses heart.”

Master Reina walked around the classroom with a lazy, almost predatory gait, her sharp gaze sweeping over students' shoulders as she passed. She didn’t say much, occasionally glancing at someone’s paper but never stopping long enough to offer real feedback. It was hard to tell if she was actually reading anything or just enjoying making people nervous.

I tapped my pen against my cheek. The classroom still felt weird to me. No desks. No chairs—well, unless you were one of the lucky ones, like me, who had grabbed an armchair before realizing they doubled as ultra-tech spatial storage. And worst of all… no windows.

Seriously, what kind of classroom didn’t have windows? The walls were dull, the air felt strangely still, and the lighting was just bright enough to be uncomfortable. It was like we were locked in some kind of experimental bunker.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the blonde girl sitting in the front raise her hand. She had a sharp, noble air about her, but something about her face looked oddly familiar.

"Master Reina, is there an ideal length for this essay?" she asked.

Reina shrugged. "As long as you properly explain why you chose your ESP’s name, I don’t care if it’s a sentence or an entire book. Just don’t hand me nonsense."

I squinted at the girl. Wait… now that I got a closer look, she kind of looked like… Ron?

Oh no.

I darted my eyes to Ron, who was at my side, still doodling something on the side of his paper. He didn’t seem to notice—or care—that someone who looked suspiciously like him was sitting right at the front. A twin? A cousin? Maybe a long-lost sister?

Because if they were… like a relative, shouldn’t he be with her and not sticking to me?

Honestly, Ron was bothering me. He had too much energy.

A few other students raised their hands to ask questions. Some were technical, like whether our ESP names could change later on (answer: it was possible but difficult), while others were more philosophical. Even Ron, who I was convinced had zero brain cells dedicated to stress, had a few questions.

"Master, what if we don’t like our ESP?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Reina snorted. "Tough luck. Work with what you got or die useless."

…Okay, so she was accommodating, but still had a terrifying way of phrasing things.

Fifteen minutes before class ended, she clapped her hands together. "Alright, time’s up! Hand them over."

There were some groans, a few hurried scribbles, and even one desperate "Wait, wait, just one more sentence!" from the back before students hesitantly stood up to turn in their papers.

I glanced at Ron’s work, half-expecting to see just a mess of doodles, but to my surprise, he had actually managed to fill an entire page. His handwriting was surprisingly neat, too.

Mark, on the other hand… I had definitely seen him writing like a madman earlier, but when he handed in his paper, it was just a single page.

What the hell? Was he messing with me? Didn’t he write, like, two whole pages? Where did the rest go? Did he crumple them up? Burn them? Eat them?

I shook my head. Not my problem.

Taking a deep breath, I handed my essay over as well. Heroine’s Heart. That was the name I had decided on. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine.

Reina took the stack of papers without looking at them and smirked. "Good. Class dismissed. Try not to die before next time."

Reina sat at her desk, flipping through our essays with an unreadable expression. She didn't rush, taking her time as if savoring every word. The classroom was mostly quiet at first, but with about fifteen minutes left before class ended, people started murmuring amongst themselves. Some tried to strike up conversations, testing the waters to make friends.

I figured I should do the same. My luck wasn’t going to help me with socializing, so I had to take the first step. I walked over to Matt and greeted him, “Hey Matt, how are you doing?”

Matt looked away, pretending I wasn’t there. “F-fine…” He murmured-shouted.

Before I could figure out what that was about, Karl—yes, the same Karl I knocked out earlier—swaggered over and scoffed. “What’s your problem, bruv?” I tried to look tough, but failed at it spectacularly as Matt suppressed a guffaw.

For a second, I braced for another stupid confrontation, but to my surprise, Karl sighed and muttered, “My bad.”

Huh?

He then turned away, plopped down in his corner, and pulled out a handheld game console like nothing happened. The complete 180 had me blinking. Did I knock some sense into him or something?

I shook my head and tried again to talk to other students, but most of them were wary. Not outright hostile, but guarded. I got a few polite nods, but the energy was clear—no one was looking to buddy up yet.

Except for one.

A blonde girl, sitting at the front of the class, openly glared at me. “You should know your place,” she remarked, her tone cold.

I blinked. “Bitch, what’s your problem?”

That was probably not the smartest thing to say, but I wasn’t in the mood for whatever power trip she was on.

Before things could escalate, Ron stepped between us with that golden retriever smile of his. “Ahaha… guys, let’s all get along, yeah?” He then turned to me, scratching his cheek. “Mirai, uh… this is my cousin, Elena Faust.”

Cousin? Oh. That explained a lot.

Before I could say anything, I felt someone lean in close from behind. A soft voice whispered into my ear, “What’s your relationship with the prince?”

I turned my head slightly to see a girl with blue hair, her expression playful but her eyes sharp.

Prince?

“Prince who?” I asked.

She tilted her head, amused. “The handsome one, of course.”

Mark?

I blinked at her, the gears in my head turning. Mark’s last name was Valentine. Didn’t ring any bells, but… wait. Ron’s last name was Ardent. Wasn’t the Ardent family—

My stomach dropped.

The Ardent family was the Imperial family.

Which meant Ron… was a prince.

And I just casually called him a golden retriever.

Ugh. What the hell did I get myself into?