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

The hall echoed with a quiet hum—the calm before the chaos.

Jin's laughter lingered in the air like a forgotten melody, warm and sincere for once. It wasn't the sharp-edged smirk he wore like armor. It was… real. A rare moment of softness for a boy raised to be steel.

Seon tilted her head, her reddish-brown eyes watching him with a quiet fondness she rarely showed. She could read him better than anyone. That flicker in his smile, the relaxed muscles in his face, the curve at the corner of his eyes—he was, for just a moment, at peace.

And so, without a word, she stepped forward and pulled him into a soft embrace.

Her hand ran through his dark hair gently as she whispered, "You did good, my little prince."

Jin stiffened in her arms, visibly flustered. His cocky bravado faltered for a second. Seon smirked—she *lived* for that look on his face.

She pulled back, still grinning. "Don't be so shocked, sweetie. I only hugged you so you'd fall hopelessly in love with me," she teased, pressing her generous chest against his shoulder with a mock sigh. "And really, who could resist *these*?"

Jin rolled his eyes, that mischievous glint sparking back in his crimson eyes. "If you keep doing that, I *will* touch you. Fair warning."

"Oh?" Seon opened her arms theatrically. "Come on, baby. Be my first taster. Limited edition."

He chuckled, brushing his black bangs out of his eyes. "Tempting. But you'd probably flip me over and pin me before I got within five inches."

"Five inches?" she repeated with a wicked smile. "Is that your actual reach or are we still talking about training?"

"Let's find out," he said coolly, turning toward the training arena. "Training room. Now."

"Such a tease," she purred, following behind him with a playful swing in her hips. "But fine. Let's see how much of that mouth you can back up with muscle."

No more banter. Not now.

The second they entered the arena, Seon's demeanor shifted.

She dropped into a perfect fighter's stance—left foot forward, right behind, both hands up, her posture flawless. Her eyes sharpened like a predator locking onto its prey.

Jin didn't need a signal. He dashed in first, fast as a whisper, his movements powered by white and red lunar mana. His strikes were fast—faster than most fighters his age. But to Seon? They might as well have been in slow motion.

She weaved through his attacks with liquid grace, countering with a snap kick to his abdomen. The air escaped Jin's lungs in a sharp hiss.

Then came the punch.

Laced with mana, her fist struck his chest like a hammer. Jin flew across the arena, landing hard. Two ribs cracked instantly.

"Dammit…" he muttered, blood on his lip, but a grin still dancing there.

He surged to his feet, green lunar mana swirling around him as it began mending his wounds. But healing was only half the battle.

He reached deeper.

Red and white mana erupted in tandem, blending into a blazing aura. Jin launched himself at her again, this time wielding **Nihil**, his obsidian blade, burning with crimson light.

Their blades—well, his sword and her fists—clashed.

The sound was like thunder bottled in a jar.

Seon danced around his sword, her arms glowing with converted mana. She didn't just *block*—she absorbed, twisted, redirected. Her "Weapon Conversion" ability made her body a living conduit, and Jin was starting to realize the gap between them.

He barely dodged her palm as it nearly crushed his chest again, only to be launched off his feet by a sweeping kick from behind.

She was everywhere.

No… she *was* the arena.

Jin landed with a grunt, bruised and scraped, his black leather coat now torn. But he didn't back down. No way in hell.

He activated **Azure Lunar Flame**, blue fire swirling around him like a storm, electricity dancing at his fingertips. He gripped **Nihil** tighter and roared toward her, blade flashing.

Seon's grin widened. *Now* we're talking.

They clashed—blade and fist, fire and steel. Sparks flew. Each collision lit the room with moonlit fury.

And then…

She absorbed the flames with a wicked smile, letting them run over her body and into her core. Her mana tank surged with power as she pulled back her arm, focusing it all into one punch.

**BOOOOM!**

Jin blocked with his sword—*too late*.

The explosion shattered the blade, sending him flying, his coat torn, skin bruised and bloodied. He lay on the ground, panting.

Seon knelt beside him with a chuckle, brushing blood off his cheek. "Ten minutes. Not bad, princeling."

Jin coughed but smirked. "Thanks, sweetheart. I'm still breathing. Barely."

"No more mana, huh?" she asked, reading him like an open book.

He nodded.

Seon pulled out a shimmering vial and handed it over. "Here. Energy, not miracle juice. It'll heal the bruises, not your pride."

Jin drank with a grateful groan. "Tastes like regret."

"That's because it is," she said, patting his shoulder. "Now get up. You've got potential to be less useless next time."