It seems She has Become the First Love of the Impenetrable, Iron-Hearted Male Protagonist

“I… I confessed to you, Senior. I asked if you would… go out with me.”

What?! A confession?

A knight had actually confessed to Rosevelia?

I felt my lips part slightly in shock, and Simon’s face turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Wait, hold on… you confessed to me?”

Simon nodded shyly, rubbing at his flushed cheeks.

“Yes, I did.”

I struggled to respond, my mind spinning. “But… I don’t really know you, and honestly, I don’t think I’m in the right mindset to date anyone right now.”

Simon hesitated for a moment, then asked with unexpected boldness, “So… does that mean if you’re in the right mindset someday, you’d reconsider?”

Despite how embarrassed he seemed, his question was surprisingly direct.

“Well… I mean, I guess someday I might have time… but there’s no guarantee. I might never feel ready for something like that,” I admitted cautiously. “There’s no telling how long it might take, or if it’ll ever happen.”

“Is it because of the upcoming demon beast subjugation mission?” he asked.

Ah, the demon beast subjugation. That was coming up soon. In the original story, the White Knights were sent on that mission around the mid-point.

“It’s not just because of that,” I replied, avoiding his eyes. I’m not even the Rosevelia you admired. But of course, I couldn’t say that out loud, so I bit my lip instead.

“Thank you for your honesty, but I’ll have to turn you down,” I said finally.

“Then… it’s okay if I keep liking you from a distance, right?” Simon asked softly.

His words caught me off guard. If the story follows its original path, nothing good will come from liking me. And if anything between us deepens… it’ll only lead to even greater tragedy.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” I said with a small sigh. “There are plenty of people out there who’d be a better match for you.”

“I’ve only been in the order for a short time, but I’ve admired you since I heard about you. To me, you’re the most remarkable woman there is,” Simon said earnestly, his eyes sparkling with determination.

“Look, I…”

“I’ll keep these feelings to myself. That’s all I ask.”

Before I could respond, Simon gave me a polite bow and quickly left the training ground.

The original story. The ending. Death.

The unresolved dilemmas that had been gnawing at me since yesterday resurfaced, leaving my mind in turmoil once again.

“Senior.”

The low voice that broke through my thoughts sent a ripple of tension down my spine. I didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.

Ian.

“When did you get here?” I asked cautiously.

“Did you confuse me with that guy?” Ian said flatly, his voice carrying a hint of disbelief.

So, he’d heard everything.

“Well, I…”

“You really don’t have much of an eye for people, do you, Senior?”

He wasn’t wrong. Simon and Ian couldn’t have been more different in terms of demeanor and presence. Simon was boyish and shy, while Ian was…

Our gazes locked. Ian’s brow furrowed slightly, and a faint, sardonic smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Did you seriously mix me up with him?”

“I mean, it could happen,” I said defensively.

“There’s nothing about us that’s remotely similar,” Ian replied, his tone incredulous.

“Well, it was during the eve’s banquet. I might’ve actually been drunk—”

Before I could finish, Ian stepped closer, his head tilting slightly. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, and he stopped just shy of where our breaths mingled.

“What are you doing?” I asked, stepping back slightly.

“This is the exact distance we were at when we crossed swords during the tournament,” Ian replied evenly. “Close enough to tell if you were drunk or not.”

“…”

“Senior, you weren’t drunk. Not at all.”

As Ian straightened his posture, the deep, navy ocean that had seemed so close a moment ago receded, and I found myself finally able to breathe.

“That’s strange,” I muttered. “Then why can’t I remember anything about that night? I just assumed I’d blacked out from drinking too much.”

I forced a stiff smile, tilting my head in mock confusion. After all, I genuinely didn’t remember anything, so I could stick to my excuse.

The only question was whether this clumsy lie would work on Ian.

“If you thought that was the reason, then… I suppose that makes sense,” Ian said, surprisingly agreeable.

Huh. He’s taking this better than I expected. I’d thought he’d press me relentlessly, but he seemed to let it go without much fuss.

“Anyway, sorry for the confusion,” I offered.

“Although… I can’t say I feel particularly good about it,” Ian said, his tone cool but tinged with something deeper.

“What?”

“It means I must not have left a strong enough impression on you, Senior,” Ian replied, his gaze unwavering.

Well, that’s a bit of a leap.

To me, Ian wasn’t just another blurry face among the recruits—I knew exactly who he was because of the original story. But in Rosevelia’s memories, Ian had been just one of the many new recruits.

“Well, a lot of recruits joined recently…”

“Do you even know my name?”

“Your name…?”

I knew his full name from the original story, of course, but surely he wasn’t using his real name in the knight order.

When I hesitated, Ian gave a knowing shrug. “I thought so.”

“Looks like I’ll have to make sure you remember me with this sparring match,” Ian said, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“What?”

“My presence. I’ll make sure you can’t forget it,” he added, his lips curling into a soft smile.

“You’re sounding pretty intense. Is it because we’re about to spar?” I teased.

Ian easily caught the wooden sword I tossed his way, and his smirk deepened. As he adjusted his grip, his throat bobbed slightly.

“My name is… Klein,” he said after a pause.

“Klein, huh? Alright, then. Shall we start?”

I tilted my wooden sword slightly, and Ian stepped forward to tap the tip of his blade against mine. With a firm push, I deflected his sword to start the sparring match.

At first, I remained on the defensive, letting Ian take the lead. He lunged forward, pressing hard, but I easily redirected his strikes and stepped back, avoiding his blade.

A small smile tugged at my lips. Ian was serious about this sparring match. His determination was clear in every strike, and I couldn’t help but appreciate his effort.

As I shifted my stance and went on the offensive, Ian responded with more power in his strikes. His form was impressive for a recruit, but he was still rough around the edges. When he aimed for my wrist, I quickly stepped back, deflected his blade, and countered with a sharp thrust toward his neck.

“Let’s stop here for today,” I said as my blade hovered near his throat.

Ian was a talented swordsman, without a doubt. For a newcomer, his skills were remarkable. But even so, I could sense it instinctively—he was at least two levels below Rosevelia’s ability.

“You were holding back quite a bit, weren’t you?” Ian said, his breath coming in shallow pants.

“Not really. It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed a sparring match,” I replied, lowering my blade.

Unlike Ian, my breathing remained steady. While my stamina wasn’t taxed, I did feel a surprising lightness in my body. The tension that had weighed me down earlier seemed to have vanished, and even the dull ache in my head had cleared.

I couldn’t help but marvel at Rosevelia’s skill. While my fencing background focused on thrusting techniques, Rosevelia’s swordsmanship was designed for cutting—entirely different styles. But now I understood why Rosevelia had reached the level of a Swordmaster.

Her agility with a sword that weighed three times as much as a fencing blade was astounding. And to her, this weapon had always felt light. It was a level of mastery I could only describe as extraordinary.

“May I request another sparring match sometime?” Ian asked, his voice calm but his gaze eager.

“Whenever you’d like,” I replied automatically.

Wait. Is this okay?

Rosevelia hadn’t sparred with anyone for a long time after an incident where she injured Edwin during a match. Was it really alright to spar like this?

Regret came rushing in belatedly, but I didn’t take back what I’d said. I didn’t want to let go of this refreshing, invigorating feeling that I hadn’t experienced in so long.

“Thank you, Senior.”

Ian gave a polite bow, his face lighting up with a radiant smile. That smile made a small pang of guilt prick at my chest.

When I’d read the original story, I’d rooted for Daisy, Edwin, and Rosevelia. Ian, on the other hand, hadn’t even crossed my radar.

In fact, I’d once resented Ian for failing to acknowledge Daisy’s feelings. I’d empathized so deeply with her that I outright disliked him.

When Edwin eventually delivered the news of Ian’s death to Daisy, I’d thought it was for the best. I’d hoped Daisy and Edwin could finally find happiness together.

But the Ian standing before me now was completely different. He wasn’t the aloof, untouchable figure I’d read about. He was ordinary—expressive, honest, and surprisingly easy to read.

This must have been the Ian Daisy first fell for—a version of him untouched by the coldness of his future self.

“Let me ask you something,” I said. “Can you sense Aura?”

“I can sense it, yes.”

Rosevelia had been able to sense Aura within just a year of picking up a sword. Shortly after, she’d learned to wield it freely, eventually reaching the level of a Swordmaster.

In other words, she was a prodigy.

“How long have you been able to sense it?” I asked.

“Not long.”

Knights capable of sensing Aura were rare to begin with, and for those who could, mastering it typically took years—sometimes decades.

In the original story, Ian’s transformation into a tyrant was less than a year away.

Could Ian realistically become a Swordmaster within that time?

No. It was impossible. Even for someone as skilled as Rosevelia, mastering Aura to that extent had taken more time than that. There was no way Ian could achieve it.

Something had undoubtedly happened to Ian around the midpoint of the original story. And then there was that word—curse.

If it truly was a curse, then it wasn’t something Ian had chosen for himself. It must have been imposed on him.

“Is that what changed you?” I murmured to myself, my thoughts swirling.

“Senior?” Ian’s voice brought me back to the present.

“Huh?” I looked at him, startled.

“It’s time to leave,” he said, handing me my cloak.

Taking the cloak from him, I tossed the wooden sword back into the storage rack.

“Alright.”

“When’s our next sparring match?” he asked.

“Four days from now, same time.”

“Understood.”

Can I change it?

Can I rewrite the ending marked by death and tragedy?

If I could somehow alter our fate, to escape the destiny of killing each other…

If I could ensure that both of us lived ordinary lives instead…

Wouldn’t that be worth fighting for?

As I followed Ian out of the training ground, a gentle breeze brushed past, stirring an inexplicable flutter in my chest.

“Have you thought about it?”

“I have. I’ll have to decline your request for a sparring match.”

“Why? Is it because I’m not skilled enough?”

“You know that’s not the case. Objectively, your skills are excellent. That’s why I even considered sparring with you for a moment. But…”

“Then why refuse?”

“It’s just my principle. I’ve decided not to spar with anyone in the knight order. I don’t want to break that principle, even for you.”

I woke with a start, my heart racing. Dim light filtered through the slightly parted curtains.

Was that a dream?

It had felt so vivid, as if Rosevelia and Ian had been standing before me, speaking those words.

“The training ground…”

I muttered to myself, recalling the setting of the dream. It had been the same training ground where Ian approached me the night the festival ended.

What’s going on?

It felt too unsettling to dismiss as just a meaningless dream.

What if what I saw was a fragment of the story left untold? The hidden past between Rosevelia and Ian?

The more I thought about it, the more certain I became: if it had been the real Rosevelia, she would have rejected Ian’s request for sparring exactly as I’d seen in the dream.

If Rosevelia did refuse Ian in the original story…

“Is the story already changing? Can I… change it?”

A strange chill ran down my spine as my thoughts raced. The mere idea of altering the original plot filled me with a dizzying mix of excitement and fear.

No, it’s too early to jump to conclusions. It was just a dream.

But I couldn’t shake the possibility. If I could truly change the story, I’d know for certain on that day—the day Ian and Daisy meet for the first time in the original.

If that day went the way I wanted, I’d have my answer.

Sleep refused to come. My restless thoughts churned until I finally gave up. Slipping into a comfortable outfit, I quietly left the mansion and made my way to the woods on the estate’s outskirts.

It was a secluded spot that Rosevelia often visited to practice using Aura.

“This Aura thing… can I use it too?” I murmured to myself.

Would it come as naturally as the sword techniques Rosevelia had mastered? Techniques that felt ingrained in my body, even though I’d never trained in them before?

Rosevelia had used Aura during a dire moment in the demon beast subjugation mission. As a member of the White Knights, she’d always been selected for those missions, and there was no doubt she’d be part of the upcoming one.

I could only hope I wouldn’t need to rely on Aura, but it was better to prepare for the possibility.

Standing in the tranquil forest clearing, I took a deep breath and gripped the hilt of the practice sword I’d brought with me.

“Let’s see what this body can do,” I whispered, and began to focus.

As I drew the sword, the soft light of dawn gently settled over its blade.

Following the memories of Rosevelia, I moved slowly, deliberately.

Focusing on the Aura flowing through my body, I guided it into the blade. In an instant, a white glow enveloped the sword. I gave it a light swing, and the tree before me split cleanly in two.

“Got it. So this is how it works… so easy…”

But I couldn’t finish the thought.

A sudden, searing tightness gripped my throat, as if it were about to catch fire. My hands instinctively flew to my neck, clutching at the unbearable heat.

What is this? Why is my throat burning?

The sensation intensified, a violent nausea surging upward, and I coughed uncontrollably.

As I slowly lowered my gaze, what I saw stopped me cold.

“Why…”

My voice trembled as my eyes locked onto my hand—stained crimson, slick with blood.