The training room hummed with focus as Elijah adjusted his aim, his gun pointed at a target precisely 10 meters ahead. Meanwhile, Kieran and Visconti practiced tirelessly, sparring with wooden dummies. Kieran wiped his brow and, noticing the time, headed out to fetch refreshments for the three of them.
Just as the door swung open, two figures stepped into the room. Elijah turned at the sound, his attention caught by the unfamiliar faces. One man had a buzz cut and a sheepish expression, while the other, with jet-black hair, carried an air of casual indifference.
Visconti's eyes narrowed as recognition sparked. These were the same men who had ambushed them during the monthly test in the forest.
"Training suit guy? Sword guy? Why are you here?" Visconti's voice was sharp with suspicion.
The two men exchanged confused glances. 'Training suit guy'? 'Sword guy'? they muttered under their breaths
The two men blinked, clearly puzzled by the strange nicknames. "Uh… it's kind of embarrassing to ask this, but… do you want to be friends with us?" the man with the buzz cut asked, holding out a sheet of paper.
His appearance screamed "arrogant bully," but his demeanor was surprisingly soft, almost endearing.
"What?" Visconti asked, his brows furrowing.
"Huh?" Elijah echoed, equally baffled.
"Make ten friends in a week?" Elijah read the words scrawled on the paper aloud.
"Scouts get weird homework, huh?" Visconti remarked dryly, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.
The man with the buzz cut nodded sheepishly. "Yeah… So, will you be our friend?"
Visconti's expression twisted in disgust. "I don't want to."
"Hey, why not? I heard you love making friends," the man argued, his tone surprisingly earnest.
"Who told you that?" Visconti asked, his voice filled with incredulity.
"The redhead," the man replied, as though it were obvious.
"That jerk!" Visconti growled, his irritation evident.
"But let's not forget," Visconti continued, a smug grin spreading across his face, "you're the team that ambushed us during the monthly test. Do you really think we'd help you?"
The man with black hair stepped forward, his tone calm but firm. "I also believe that conflicted with the spirit of swordsmanship. I apologize."
"Apologize?" Visconti raised an eyebrow. "You think you can just say sorry and that's it? Is that your so-called spirit of swordsmanship? You've got some nerve."
"I'm only talking about the right path of swordsmanship," the black-haired man replied, his tone unwavering. "And by the way, you're incredibly narrow-minded."
Visconti glared at him, his pride clearly wounded. Sparks seemed to fly between the two as their gazes locked.
Elijah sighed, watching the brewing storm. "Here we go again…"
The man with the buzz cut laughed nervously, stepping between them. "Haha… Come on now, no fighting! Why don't we all get to know each other better?"
Visconti crossed his arms, his lips curling into a smirk. "Fine. I'm Visconti, son of the Zenon family. A direct descendant of one of the 17 great families. Visconti Zenon is my full name. In short, I'm a noble, unlike you guys."
The black-haired man snorted, unimpressed. "We didn't ask about your father. That information is as useless as your earrings. How about giving us something useful this time?"
Visconti's jaw tightened, his blue vine earrings swaying as he clenched his fists. "This jerk! What's it to you if I have earrings or piercings?" he snapped.
"Calm down, Visconti," Elijah muttered, but the damage was done.
"Hey, calm down. It's Hanz's turn to introduce himself," the buzz-cut man said hurriedly, attempting to diffuse the tension.
He turned to his companion and whispered, "Hanz, do you realize how many times we've been rejected because of your attitude? Tone it down, will you?"
Hanz scoffed, crossing his arms but refraining from further argument—for now.
"My name is Hanz," the black-haired man introduced himself, ignoring the chaos. "I'm 18. My father is a swordsmith, and I grew up liking swords, and I grew up with the spirit of a swordsman."
Visconti sneered. "Spirit this, spirit that. Are you still living in the past? What's next, your family still practices seppuku?"
"You mock the honor of swordsmanship?" Hanz snapped, his temper flaring. "Seppuku is a noble act!"
"Noble? That's ridiculous. Do you also commit seppuku when you accidentally order too much chicken?" Visconti retorted, laughing.
"Of course! It's the only way for a true man!" Hanz replied, his serious tone making Elijah and the buzz-cut man exchange disbelieving looks.
"Seppuku is manly? That's stupid. Even the Laurent family don't do sepaku." Visconti mocked.
"And you! Didn't people in your town talk behind your back because of your silly earrings?" Hanz asked mockingly.
"Nope. Earrings are trendy in my town. Everybody wears at least 5 earrings, and not only people, but also animals and objects wear them too! That's the trend" Visconti said arrogantly.
"Stop lying. Are you a kid?" Hanz said not believing him.
"Stop it, both of you!" the buzz-cut man intervened again, exasperated. "Anyway, my name's Enu. I don't have anything against you guys. That time during the test… it wasn't ideal. I hope you can look past it."
Elijah tilted his head. "Your teammate almost stabbed me. Yup, not ideal."
"I don't blame you, though," Elijah added thoughtfully. "If it were me, I might have done the same."
"Thanks," Enu said, though his disappointment was evident. "But I guess we've failed at making friends again."
Elijah smiled faintly. "Let's be friends. My name's Elijah Blackwood, but you can call me Eli."
Visconti groaned. "Eli, don't. They don't want real friends; they just want to fill out that paper."
Eli shrugged. "There's not much to know about me. I'm not from a noble house, just an ordinary family."
Visconti sighed. "Fine, whatever. Let's be friends."
Hanz looked surprised. "Really? Thanks, Eli—and you too, Earrings."
"Earrings? Wanna die?" Visconti snapped.
"Visconti, you sound like Kieran," Elijah commented.
Visconti was speechless, but for once, he couldn't argue.