Chapter 06 Noble Maiden Brought Low by a Treacherous Stone

She stared, mesmerized. At his manly jaw line, the slight flex of his forearm as he adjusted his grip, the confident set of his shoulders. A wave of heat washed over her.

"Ugh, I’m so jealous of Dad right now. He gets to have this intense, sweaty, one-on-one time with Leon every week. That should be my scheduled activity! ‘Weekly Date with the Hot Hero in my bedroom for some sweaty action on my bed'! Instead of ‘Weekly Attempted Bro's Meeting'! What a waste!"

Her fantasies took a sudden, vivid turn. "I wonder if he would make that same face when he’s… he's on top of me? Kyaaa! Molly, stop! Not now! Totally not the time to go crazy! But… he’s just so… handsome…"

By the time she realized Leon was waiting for her answer, she was thoroughly flustered. Her tan skin was flushed a deep rose-gold, and her voice came out in a breathy, quivering squeak that was equal parts nerves and something else entirely.

“R-Ready!” she managed to say, lifting her sword with hands that felt suddenly clumsy. She wasn’t heated up from the anticipation of the fight. She was heated up from the very specific, very private cinematic her imagination had just screened in glorious, high-definition detail.

“Alright, let's begin then. Here I come.”

Leon dashed toward Molly putting only the barest minimum of speed and force behind the swing. "Alright. A simple attack. Start slow. A basic diagonal slash. Let's see how she reacts."

Molly’s sword came up and met his with a soft clink, batting it aside.

"Good. She has decent reflexes." He flowed into the next sequence, a low horizontal sweep, followed by a quicker thrust to her exposed shoulder. He amped up the speed.

Clink. Clink.
Again, her blade was there, deflecting each strike.

"Interesting. Her stance… at first glance, it seems full of openings. Her left side is perpetually forward; her guard isn’t tight to her body… it’s almost reckless." He feinted high and went for a genuine, faster lunge at that apparent opening on her lower left.

Her sword dropped like a guillotine, intercepting the lunge with a louder CLANG, stopping it cold.

"Oh? As I expected. A trap. Those aren't openings. They're deliberate invitations. Bait. She’s presenting a weakness to lure an opponent into a predictable attack she’s already prepared to counter. That’s… not beginner’s intuition. She is used to combat." A spark of genuine intrigue ignited in him. "I see now, you only look small and weak, Lady Moriana. You could fool most opponents into seriously regretting underestimating you. This makes me more interested in you."

A competitive, testing urge rose within him. "Let’s see how far this goes. How long can she keep up?"

 The next series of strikes came not as teaching examples, but as a rapid, fluid combination. High, low, middle, a spinning backswing. The kind used to overwhelm an opponent’s defense. 

"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! He’s coming at me! And he’s so… fears! And close!" Her body operated on pure, demonic autopilot, her sword moving on its own to meet each of his strikes with a series of loud CLANG-CLINK-CLANG sounds that rang out across the yard.

But her mind was in another universe entirely. "His face is so serious! He’s looking right at me! Not through me, not past me… AT me! Kyaaa!"

With every step he took forward, forcing her to retreat and defend, her imagination went wild. "He’s advancing on me… pushing me back… it’s so… dominant! What if… what if he actually disarmed me? What if that strong hand of his grabbed my wrist instead of his sword hilt? What if he pushed me down onto the training mats after winning… and he would be breathing hard just like this… and he would look down at me with this same intense, focused expression… kyaaa!"

A thrilling shiver ran down her spine. Her demonic nature purred in delight. "He’s testing me… trying to see how far I can go… what if this was a different kind of test? A test of… endurance? Kyaaa! Bad thoughts! Very bad, very demonic thoughts!"

She parried a swift thrust, her blade shuddering with the impact. The vibration traveled up her arm, feeling weirdly pleasant. "Ugh, this is so unfair! How am I supposed to concentrate on not revealing I’m a demon when he’s over there being all… hot and sweaty and attacking me in the most handsome way possible?! This isn’t a spar; this is a targeted assault on my ability to think straight!"

During her lewd fantasy spiral she noticed the impressed gasps from the crowd. 

"Crap, crap, CRAP! This is getting out of hand! I can totally keep blocking these, but he’s not stopping! And everyone’s staring! They look way too impressed! I’m supposed to be a mediocre first-year, not the star of the show! I need an exit! A cute, non-demonic exit!"

She began to deliberately falter. Her parries, which had been solid, turned into weak, fluttering deflections. She let her sword arm tremble artistically, widened her eyes in a convincing mask of overwhelmed panic, and allowed herself to be pushed back across the training yard with little, gasping breaths.

"Okay, Hero. Take the hint. I’m a weak little girl. You win. Now stop so I can go scream into a pillow about how hot you look when you swing!"

But Leon’s sky-blue eyes were only focused on her.

"An act. She’s pretending to tire. Her footwork is still perfectly balanced even as she ‘stumbles’ back. She’s trying to lure me into overconfidence, just like she did with her false openings. Clever. But I see through it. You still have more to give, Lady Moriana. Show me."

Instead of relenting, he pushed harder. 

"OH, COME ON! He's not stopping! This is totally bad! Fine. If he won’t take a graceful surrender…" Her eyes darted to the ground as she retreated another step. "There! A pebble! Perfect!"

On her next backward step, she dramatically placed her foot right onto the loose stone. She let out a high-pitched, perfectly timed yelp “Kyaa!” and let her ankle buckle beautifully beneath her.

Her sword clattered to the ground as she threw her arms out for balance, her body twisting in a flawless imitation of a clumsy fall. The picture of a delicate noble maiden brought low by a treacherous stone.

In a blur of white and blue, Leon was there. His practice sword was forgotten, dropped carelessly to the dirt. His strong, firm arms shot out, catching her before her knees could even brush the ground. One arm hooked securely under her knees, the other wrapped around her back, lifting her against his chest in a princess carry.

The world tilted, and suddenly Molly’s face was inches from his. She could see his jaw, the tiny flecks of darker blue in his irises, the genuine concern on his handsome face. 

“My apologies, Miss Molly Moriana! I pushed you too far. Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

Molly’s brain flatlined. Her tan skin burned with a blush that felt nuclear. She was cradled against the solid, warm wall of his chest, her legs dangling over his arm. It was a hundred times more intense than her fantasies.

“I-I-It’s my ankle,” she squeaked, her voice embarrassingly faint. “Just… twisted it. A tiny bit! It’s nothing, really! You can put me down!” "Please don’t put me down, oh, my handsome hero! Take me away!"

“Nonsense. Even a minor sprain needs attention. I’ll carry you to the infirmary. It’s the least I can do.”

He began walking, striding past the stunned crowd of students and the speechless Professor Hemsley. Molly loop one arm around his neck for ‘balance,’ her other hand clutching nervously at the front of his uniform. Her face was buried near his collarbone; muscles firm under her. His heart was beating against hers.

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 ACADEMY INFIRMARY

The room was empty, a note reading 'Back in 15 - Herb Garden' was left on the desk.

“Hmmm, no one is here. It would seem we'll have to help ourselves.” He headed toward one of the neat, white-sheeted beds along the wall.

"Wait-wait-wait! This is totally crazy! Nurse office? All alone. In a room. With a bed. And the hero is carrying me. Chance! This is it. I can’t waste this! But how… how to make it… more?"

Shameless, demonic, intrusive thought slithered into her mind. "What if… he ‘fell’ too? Onto the bed. With me. Like in my favorite romance novel chapter 7 of ‘The Duke’s Forbidden Garden’…"

As Leon took the final step toward the bedside, preparing to gently lower her, Molly’s eyes, hidden against his shoulder, flashed a faint, obsidian purple for a nanosecond. A tiny, thread of her magic darted out, hooking Leon's feet.

“Wh—OOF!”

Molly landed on the soft mattress with a poof of sheets, and Leon landed half on top of her, one arm braced beside her head at the last second to catch most of his weight. The other was still wrapped around her back, pulling her tight against him.