After the bell outside rung and everyone left, Hildebrand lingered last, sending Erika away. She wanted to be alone. She wanted time to think. In-between bouts of sulking questions raced in her mind.

Why isn’t he here? she wondered. Why is he so different? Could only one person go back in time at a time? Was she even in the past? If it wasn’t the past, what could it be? No, she decided, it’s the past. Like Hugo’s second life, things weren’t exactly the same. There was never a guarantee that her Hugo would be here. There weren’t any promises made in the first place. This wasn’t part of the deal. She never asked to live again. All this was just a prank by the cruel gods.

Or maybe it was a kindness. Hildebrand perked up. Does this mean I didn’t kill Rinaldo? And the others? Or countless innocents? she pondered. I haven’t done anything yet, ergo… It made sense to her. She was innocent, or as innocent as a miscreant from the slums could be. She had yet to break the world. The thought was enough to make her smile, enough to make her chuckle slowly. It was enough to make her stop sulking. It was enough to make her jump for joy.

“Ha!” she shouted, jumping to a stand. Her head hit something with a thunk.

“Ow!” a boy shouted.

A blonde-haired boy with beady blue eyes glared at her from the floor. He rubbed his chin while hissing through his teeth. He looked angered, apologetic, and perturbed all at the same time. He had a scowl permanently etched on his face, like a miscreant who had just crawled out of the slums. Just looking at his unsightly face ruined Hildebrand’s merry mood.

“Who are you?” Hildebrand asked, raising a brow at the miscreant.

His nose wrinkled, and his brows furrowed. His mouth opened, his teeth baring, but he said nothing. He closed his mouth and stood with a grunt. “No one,” he said.

Hildebrand huffed through her nose. “Then, Mr. Nobody,” she said. “What do you want?”

He grunted again and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes drifted around the room.

Hildebrand snapped twice to get his attention for a moment.

He grimaced and his beady eyes slowly drifted away from Hildebrand again. They moved side to side and up and down. “Are you alright?” he asked.

She touched her head. Painless. “My head’s fine,” she said.

“Not your head,” he said. “I mean, what you were crying about.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’m fine.” She rubbed her swollen eyes with her sleeve.

He quietly huffed. “Guess so,” he said. “My mistake. Shouldn’t have bothered you.” Despite how he looked, the low and quiet way he spoke reminded Hildebrand of somebody older, somebody she had known. It was an unexpected likeness, but the day was full of surprises. “I’ll leave you alone,” he said.

A piece of paper caught Hildebrand’s eye as she nodded up and down. “What’s this?” she said, crouching to pick it up.

“Wait!” The miscreant tried to snatch it from her hand, but Hildebrand rolled away like a pig in the mud and stood up.

He was baffled; he was speechless. She used the opportunity to open the piece of paper.

“Hold on!” he said, walking towards Hildebrand.

“No,” she said, backing up. The miscreant picked up his pace, but she kept backing up, going in circles with him.

“Just hold on a second,” he said, chasing Hildebrand. “Don’t read it!”

Hildebrand stopped and shoved him back. He landed on his ass with a grunt. He was tall, but he was lanky and light.

Hildebrand let out a “Heh,” with a smirk. She scanned the paper and read it aloud.

“How dare you lay your filthy eyes on me,” she read. “You dirty commoner scum—”

“Dear Altamea!” someone screamed. The culprit was a girl standing at the double doors. She had long blonde hair that shimmered like golden threads, and blue eyes like the clear day sky. She even had pale, glimmering skin and Hildebrand could’ve sworn she could see a halo around the girl’s head. “I can’t believe you’re bullying this poor, dimwitted-looking boy!” she said with self-righteous indignation. “I was watching over you because I was concerned about your well-being! And this is how you wasted my sympathy?” she shouted.

Hildebrand was at a loss. She was confused. She was scared. Scared by the beautiful divine entity yelling at her. She would have liked a warning first, a warning to not be afraid, at least. She stammered a bit before averting her eyes back to the piece of paper. And she read it, continuing exactly where she left off. “Get away from me, you dirty slum-dwelling, ugly, rat-faced peasant…” That was what the paper said.

The girl gasped loudly, so loudly it summoned more people to her side. One, a boy, had overgrown chestnut-colored hair that covered his eyes. He had a dirty glare for Hildebrand with his green eyes. It unsettled her, like being stared down by a hound. The other person was an unpleasant surprise, given the circumstances. It was Anya.

“How dare you!” the gold-haired girl shouted. “You! You!” she repeated, pointing at Hildebrand. She was on the verge of tears. “You bitch!”

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“What!” Hildebrand shouted back. “I was just reading this!” She tried to thrust the paper towards the golden-haired girl, but the boy next to her slapped it away.

“Step back,” he demanded, low and guttural, like a growling hound. The gravel in his voice made it seem more like a threat than a request.

Hildebrand stepped back as commanded, only to find an unexpected ally stepping in front of her.

The miscreant raised his arm ever so slightly, as if to defend Hildebrand.

“This is a big misunderstanding,” he said. “I made a mistake—”

The golden-haired girl put a finger to his lips, mumming him. “I understand!” she said. “You made a mistake, but that’s no reason for her to be so cruel to you! This academy was founded on the principle that everyone is equal! All people are equal in Altamea’s eyes! Commoners do not differ from nobles! And nobles are no better than commoners! Plebeians still deserve to be treated with kindness and respect!”

He shoved her hand away. “Listen to what I’m saying,” he pleaded. “This is all just a silly misunderstanding. This is my fault—”

The girl put another finger to the miscreant’s lips, shushing him. “You’re not at fault!” she said, speaking over the miscreant’s attempts to speak. Every time he tried to move her hand from his face, she placed the other on him. “Commoners shouldn’t be afraid to speak up! If nobles lorded their power to silence commoners, there would be a chilling effect on the intellectual discourse at this academy! We all have a duty to stand up to tyrants! I—”

“Agh!” the miscreant growled, swatting away the girl’s arm. “Will you shut up! You braindead idiot!” He poked her forehead. “Do you have parasites in your brain? Or were you just born with half a brain?” Hildebrand couldn’t even cheer him on. His words were too cruel, and he kept going. “Is your giant forehead just for show? What’s the point of it being so damn big if there’s nothing behind it!” He poked her forehead so hard it left a round, red mark.

She pouted, her lower lip coming up. Tears welled in her eyes, making them glimmer like wet sapphires. And she held her forehead, covering it up. “My forehead isn’t big…” she whimpered.

The miscreant clacked his teeth slowly, his finger still frozen in the air. “I-I’m sorry,” he said.

Before Hildebrand could even say anything, Anya ushered the teary, golden-haired girl away. She had been the only thing holding the hound-like boy back from pouncing on the miscreant. “Let’s go, Priscilla,” Anya said, shooting the miscreant and Hildebrand a deadly glare before exiting. The hound-like boy stomped forward, lurching forward like a beast.

The miscreant pushed Hildebrand further behind him, but she shoved him to the side. She shot him a glare, as if to say, “I can protect myself.” His mouth gaped with astonishment, the kind of astonishment one had when looking upon the worst fools.

The hound looked at Hildebrand, then the miscreant. “You made an enemy for life,” he growled, before turning and leaving. They left Hildebrand to linger with the foul-mouthed miscreant.

The miscreant broke the silence first. “Crap,” he muttered, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Hey,” Hildebrand growled, grabbing the miscreant by both sides of his collar. She shook him thrice. “What’s your problem? How could you say that to a lady! Are you insane?”

“I didn’t mean to say that!” he said, trying to put his hands up in his own defense.

Hildebrand gave him three more shakes for daring to defend himself. “Of course you meant it! There’s a place for scum like you!” she snarled.

“Hell?” he asked.

“…Yes,” she said. She was thinking of the ground, where she was planning to throw him.

Erika turned the corner of the double doors.

“I overheard everything,” she said, just as chipper as she had been all class.

Erika placed a hand on Hildebrand’s arm. “Come on,” she said. “Give him a break.” Hildebrand raised her brows at Erika, who smiled awkwardly. “Not the kind you’re thinking of,” she added, touching her ribs.

Hildebrand let the boy go. “Explain yourself,” she demanded. “Why on earth would you write that nonsense? And carry it around!” Hildebrand could feel her hands rising closer to his collar again, but Erika slapped them back to Hildebrand’s side.

He stood tall, stretching his back, and combed his hair back with his hand. He was almost as tall as Hugo was, much taller than Hildebrand, but he seemed about as tough as a willow. He groaned and put a hand up defensively.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “The short version is, I actually meant to say all that to you.”

“Maybe you should give him a break,” Erika whispered into Hildebrand’s ear. “The kind you’re thinking of.”

Hildebrand nodded.

“Wait!” he said, but Hildebrand already threw her punch.

It landed on his stomach with a soft thud. Despite how lanky he looked, his belly was pudgy.

He grunted with mild discomfort. “Ow,” he muttered.

“Did you brace yourself?” Hidlebrand asked, her head tilting in confusion.

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

Hildebrand composed herself and pulled her arm back again. “Let me try again,” she said.

The miscreant caught her incoming fist, much to Hildebrand’s shock. She gasped audibly. The blonde boy didn’t look surprised. He looked mildly amused. Maybe it was just how his face naturally looked, but he looked all too pleased with himself. It was the kind of look arrogant nobles wore when dismissing the Hero and Saintess’s requests and pleas, like they were looking down on children. It made Hildebrand grit her teeth.

“One more time!” she said.

When the miscreant shoved Hildebrand’s fist away, another landed on his face with a loud thwack.

“Sorry,” Erika said, smiling, “I think you deserve to be hit.”

The miscreant shot Erika a seething glare with his beady blue eyes, his eyes like daggers, but he composed himself quickly. He rubbed his cheek and sighed again. “Fair enough,” he said. “I probably did deserve it.”

“You definitely deserved it,” Hildebrand said.

He nodded and said, “I hope that makes us even.” He pocketed his hands. “If it’s worth anything, I’ll try to fix this. I wasn’t trying to do anything… Malicious.”

Hildebrand glared at him. She kicked him in the shin.

“Ow!” he shouted. He hissed at her and briskly away, raising his fist. But whatever he was going to do with his finger, he stopped himself, opting to just grumble and walk out of the gym.

“What an ass!” Hildebrand grumbled. “At least you got a good hit in,” she muttered.

“Hmm,” Erika hummed. She looked at her knuckles; they were bony and rugged, by any standards. The tall tomboy had clearly put them to good use throughout her life. “It wasn’t a good hit. He dodged it,” she said.

“Wha—He got lucky,” Hildebrand said.

“No,” Erika said. “He saw it coming.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep,” Erika said.

Hildebrand nodded. The miscreant didn’t look the type, but it wasn’t uncommon for aristocrat boys to receive martial training from childhood, even if they were unwanted children. It was quite common, in fact. They had calloused hands and knuckles, like Erika. Lady knights, on the other hand, were uncommon.

“Hmm,” Hildebrand hummed too, with a small smile. She got lucky. She found a reliable ally in Erika. She would need one since she made an enemy for life.

It bothered Hildebrand, however, that an out of shape miscreant could dodge Erika’s surprise attack so easily. The sneaky hit had even surprised Hildebrand. It was a cheap move, in all honesty, a little unbecoming of a knight to-be, and very much unexpected. Could he really have seen it coming?

“Did he really see it coming?” Hildebrand asked again.

“Yep,” Erika answered again.