I Start with a Bad Hand!

“Shouldn’t there be some penalty for them? We don’t have a single person assigned as an archer this time,” one of the Sereti representatives complained. He imagined that consistently losing for several years would put more pressure on the losing side, but in reality, it wasn’t like that. It was quite a burden to be expected to continue the legacy of victory established by the upper class.

“Especially since the Second Prince is on the Thomple side. No matter how skilled we are, it’s daunting to face someone who’s been on the battlefield even before entering the academy.”

Why did someone who seemed uninterested last year suddenly decide to participate this time? The representative from Sereti grumbled while glancing at the Thomple student council president. His dark hair complemented his sharp eyes, exuding an overwhelming presence even without any significant movements.

“…Let’s do that,” the president said after a moment’s thought, to everyone’s surprise. It was a demand made half-jokingly, knowing it was unreasonable, and he hadn’t expected it to be accepted without resistance. The immediate acceptance left the Sereti representative feeling more disconcerted than relieved.

‘Is he serious? Or is this a trick to stab us in the back later?’

Before such suspicions could last a few days, they really replaced their bows with ones that looked so crude they might break. It was as if they had been waiting for this. Among the Sereti students, there were mixed feelings of ridicule for what seemed like complete surrender and suspicion that Thomple must be hiding something.

The minority who suspected something was accepted as soon as the match started. As they charged towards Thomple’s camp, they were met with an immense deep sea illusion.

‘We brought an Oliphaunt, but…’

Determined to wash away four years of humiliation, Thomple seemed thoroughly prepared. The horses couldn’t move, and neither could Sereti’s, with occasional appearances of a kraken adding to the challenge. Fighting against well-acquainted opponents revealed such difficulties.

Only a few students, after several attempts, managed to get accustomed to the illusion and step into it. But Thomple’s strategy, focusing almost all their manpower on defense, prevented anyone from getting close to their tent to even see what the national treasure was.

Moreover, when the crude bows and a few arrows managed to hit the magic stone Oliphaunt, and the Second Prince single-handedly defeated Sereti’s defenders, it briefly seemed like this year might indeed be different.

But that was just a fleeting moment. A few outstanding individuals do not guarantee victory. The overall attitude and skill level of Sereti and Thomple differed fundamentally. While some Sereti students fought hard, the majority were not enthusiastic. They had set up campfires during the match, lain in the grass, and even engaged in romantic escapades in the bushes.

Perhaps this laxity led to a slight relaxation of vigilance. One Thomple student, who looked like he had just woken up, strolled around leisurely as if he were out for a walk. Even when they saw him trudging back to his camp with a lack of enthusiasm, no one bothered to confront him.

So, when the Sereti students reviewed their loss after five years, they couldn’t help but recall that scene.

Was it a mistake to think that a single girl couldn’t make a difference?

Had we failed to recognize the sudden appearance of the Second Prince, who had remained hidden until now, as suspicious? Had we made a mistake by not stopping him when he turned his back to the battlefield and started shooting arrows towards his own camp?

***

“…Avenge your senior? Weren’t you an exempt member?” asked the Sereti student, who had broken Irene’s arm. I silently drew my bow. The Sereti student, who had been smirking, soon tightened his expression. Our fencing club members, who had been struggling under his pressure, now looked relieved.

“Impressive….”

With a weak shout, the arrow I shot grazed between the two and entered the tent weakly. Both combatants paused and turned to look at me with expressions that asked, ‘What are you doing?’

“…The first shot was a warning. I missed on purpose,” I said, hoping my lame excuse would work, as I drew the bowstring again. Two arrows. Again, the arrow missed everyone and weakly entered the tent.

Now, the expressions of the two students had completely changed. The Thomple fencing club member was now stone-faced, while the Sereti student regained his confidence. They both refocused on each other, seemingly indifferent to me. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I fidgeted.

‘No one… really cares about me.’

I shot again. Three arrows.

After a few clashes with wooden swords, the duel ended with Sereti’s victory. The Sereti student confidently swung his wooden sword and approached me. Quickly, I shot another arrow. Four arrows. He didn’t even flinch as the arrow passed by him.

I was about to shoot the fifth arrow when the student got too close for me to dodge.

“Wait.”

I raised my hands as if to surrender. The Sereti student gestured for me to speak.

“Spare me.”

“…What?”

Seeing the Sereti student laugh incredulously, I calmly said, “Let me go. I’m weak.”

“No skills, no pride, huh?”

Just as I was about to step back in embarrassment, I saw someone rushing from behind.

‘Oh, it’s Aiden.’

Without thinking, I felt for a marked arrow instead of the one I intended to shoot. When I released the arrow, Aiden looked at it with disbelief as it struck his chest. Blue paint started to drip down, which he wiped with his hand.

“That… was a mistake.”

“Oh… Oh! Degoph! Are you kidding me?”

Hearing the shout from behind and seeing the Sereti student turn around, I took advantage of the distraction and shot another arrow. Five arrows.

“Hey! How did you miss from that distance!”

How did you even get selected? Aiden stomped his foot in frustration. Trying to make up for my mistake, I quickly shot another arrow. It once again missed both the relaxed-looking Sereti student and Aiden, landing inside the tent.

‘Two arrows left.’

I felt the remaining arrows with my hand. Not many left. Trying not to provoke the Sereti student, who was now laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes, I repositioned myself to shoot the last two arrows.

‘I can’t believe this is the plan.’

This strategy had started with Agnes’s suggestion.

“Shoot them over. You’re good with a bow, right? As long as we get it to our camp, it’ll be fine.”

Walking the perfume over was the best method, but… Sereti students were stationed there. Agnes had said this with soot smudged around her mouth.

“Does that make sense? How can an arrow carry the weight of a perfume bottle?”

“Who said to shoot the glass bottle?”

With a nod from Agnes, one of the archery club students tapped the tip of an arrow. The arrowhead, replaced with a paint-filled glass bead, was wrapped in fabric to prevent injury if it shattered.

“Can you unscrew this?”

Carefully twisting the tip, the archery club student let blue ink drip out. It was detachable. They must have replaced the paint in it.

But there were too many flaws with this method.

“Even so, what about the impact when the arrow hits?”

“It’s a makeshift tent. The arrow will hit the fabric, not with full force anyway.”

Despite my skeptical expression, one of the archery club students, thinking deeply, spoke up.

“Then add a mount to the arrowhead to distribute the impact.”

“And where will you get the materials for the mount?”

“Why worry? We’re in a forest. Materials are everywhere,” the student shrugged, gesturing at the abundant forest behind us.

But that wasn’t the only issue.

“What if they refuse to accept it? They might insist the perfume bottle needs to be brought over.”

“There’s a tracking spell on each national treasure. As soon as it enters the enemy camp, victory fireworks will go off.”

“If the spell is on the bottle—”

“Hey, the perfume is the main thing, not the bottle. They made sure we couldn’t transport it by horse anyway. And—”

“No matter what, if the perfume separates from the bottle, how—”

I was about to argue further when Icarus interjected.

“Transferring wine from a barrel to a bottle doesn’t make it any less wine, does it?”

Everyone turned to look at Icarus. Accepting their stares, he replied indifferently.

“Just argue it out passionately if they complain.”

He added this with a mischievous smile.

“For once, we agree,” whispered Agnes into my ear. Ignoring her, I wiped the soot smudging her mouth, only to smear it further. Hoping she wouldn’t realize how her face looked, I subtly moved a bit away from her. Sorry….

With a clear expression, completely unaware of the state of her face, the empire’s Mun Ik-jeom asked, “So, how many arrows did you say you had left?”

From that point on, things moved quickly. Fortunately, the perfume bottle wasn’t very large. The portioned perfume filled the tips of the arrows. Wrapped in several layers of cloth to prevent breaking and equipped with makeshift wooden mounts to disperse the impact, there were eight arrows with perfume and two with paint.

‘We could just win this fairly with skill, but we resort to every trick because we’re falling behind.’

There was no time to think further. Having come this far, I couldn’t afford to be squeamish about this tactic.

It was time to end this period of underhanded tricks and accusations masquerading as a friendly match.

‘Next time, let’s clearly establish the rules to avoid this nonsense.’

I drew my bowstring again. Among the people who ignored me, my only focus was on the arrows. Don’t use too much force. If the bow breaks here, we lose our only chance.

Closer than hitting an elephant, and not aiming to break anything, I released the arrow calmly. The arrow safely entered the tent.

One arrow left.

The Sereti student, now wiping his tears, finally seemed to regain his composure and approached me. I paused momentarily, my hand on the bowstring.

“What are you doing here? Did you come to repay us for sparing your life a few times?”

“….”

“Thanks to you, we avoided some crises. Should I be thankful?”

“I told you, I came to avenge my senior.”

I took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be a dramatic victory. Using such dirty, underhanded methods might not be meaningful, but I had done my best.

Before the Sereti student could say another word, I shot the last arrow. With a snap, the bow broke. As the arrow entered our tent, blue signal flares announcing Thomple’s victory erupted simultaneously. Everyone stopped fighting, standing still in shock.

“…What the,”

Looking between me and the tent, the Sereti student seemed utterly confused.

I slowly lowered the broken bow and tossed it at his feet.

“Judging by your expression, I think I did it right.”

…Wow, wowww! Behind me, triumphant shouts and screams of disbelief burst forth. Gazing at the kraken wriggling at my feet as if to congratulate me, I let out a weary sigh.

And with that, I collapsed for the day.