Im'the son of the Villainess's at the Academy

The weight of the suit was unbearable.

Every breath Rina took felt heavier, her lungs fighting for space against the crushing pressure of the enchanted training gear. The material clung to her form with sentient firmness, adapting to every movement, every strain of muscle, every shiver of weakness.

She had been sitting in the center of the stone-floored training chamber for what felt like hours, trying to maintain the mana-enhanced state that Seon had taught her. Her palms rested gently on her knees, eyes closed, breath deep and controlled, but the fire within her surged in defiance.

Rena could feel it—her mana. A swirling river of golden-red energy tracing the channels of her veins like a second bloodstream, coating her nerves, threading through her bones. It was not wild like her emotions had once been. It was precise. Calculated. She was learning to wield her power with discipline.

A warm drop of sweat traced the side of her face, then fell to the obsidian-tiled floor.

"You're pushing too much mana into your shoulders again," Seon's voice echoed gently from nearby.

Rena opened her golden eyes, frustration painting her expression.

"I can't help it. It just wants to go there—like it's... pooling."

Seon crouched beside her, her red-brown eyes scanning Rena's aura.

"It's because your upper body strength is lacking. Your body compensates instinctively, but it's sloppy. You need balance, or you'll tear something."

Rena exhaled sharply, biting her lip. Her whole body felt sore. Even her thoughts felt heavy, like the enchanted outfit was weighing down her mind, not just her muscles.

"I'm not used to... this kind of training," she admitted under her breath.

Seon chuckled softly. "Of course not. You're a high-blooded noble sorceress, not a front-line soldier. But if you want to survive as a Rocchi..." Her voice darkened with something that felt almost like sympathy. "You will be both."

Rena didn't respond. Instead, she closed her eyes again and returned to her meditation, letting Seon's words echo through her.

A Rotschy.

The name still felt foreign when attached to her own. Heavy, sharp-edged, wrapped in shadow.

And yet, a part of her—maybe the same part that was tired of being protected, tired of feeling powerless—began to reach toward it.

As the sun fully dipped behind the obsidian walls outside, the room dimmed, lit only by the glowing sigils embedded into the floor. Seon stood back and folded her arms, watching in silence.

"Again," she commanded.

Rena opened her eyes, stood slowly—shakily—but stood nonetheless.

She began again.

Mana flow.

Breath.

Focus.

The sensation of the mana wrapping her body like a second skin became less foreign with each cycle. It was still difficult. Still exhausting. But no longer overwhelming.

Seon's gaze followed her closely, assessing every twitch of muscle, every grimace of pain.

"You're improving," she admitted. "Your control is raw, but your instincts... they're not bad."

Rena looked at her, still catching her breath. "Is that... a compliment?"

Seon smirked and leaned casually against the pillar.

"Don't get used to it."

A brief silence settled between them before Seon spoke again, more softly this time.

"You still talk too much."

Rena raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Seon approached, her tone now more serious.

"You asked earlier why I told you to stay quiet in the academy. It's not just about discipline. It's about protection."

"Protection from what?"

"From being noticed," Seon said bluntly. "You're married to the heir of one of the most dangerous families in the continent. You're already a target. Every word you say, every friend you keep, every look you give someone—can be used against you."

Rena's brows furrowed. Her first instinct was to argue, to reject the paranoia... but something about Seon's tone shut her up. It wasn't fearmongering. It was experience.

"You're not just Rina Amberheart anymore," Seon continued. "You're the Rocchi heir's wife. And Naoko doesn't allow weakness in her bloodline—married in or born. You'll either rise to her standards... or she'll break you."

Those words hit like a blade. Rina stiffened, shoulders squaring with pride and defiance.

"She won't break me."

A slight smile touched Seon's lips. Not warm, but real.

"Good. Keep that fire. You'll need it."

She gestured toward the far end of the chamber, where several obsidian weights, enchanted with mana, waited.

"Let's see how far that fire takes you. Time to move from meditation to motion. Pick one—start small."

Rena walked slowly, deliberately, toward the weights. Her legs were heavy from the suit, and her arms ached from holding the mana state for so long. But her pride wouldn't let her hesitate.

She reached for one of the smaller weights—still heavier than anything she'd ever trained with before—and gripped it with both hands.

As soon as her fingers wrapped around the cold, smooth stone, she felt the resistance surge against her.

She exhaled, gritted her teeth—

And lifted.

Not gracefully.

Not quickly.

But she lifted it.

Behind her, Seon watched with a hint of something almost like approval flickering in her gaze.

"That's it, princess," she murmured. "Bleed for it."

.......... 

Heat: Trust me, you'll know why Naoko made Sion tell Rena to stop talking and clear her throat.