Reality's Beholder

**Jared's POV**

Jared was livid. Aurora had not merely requested but ordered him to summon a certain "maggot" by the name of Adam—a rank 178 fellow. Only now, as he stood before the man, did his recollections solidify. This was the same feeble fellow who had slumbered for two weeks and returned to class only that very day. The sight of the boy's face fanned the flames of Jared's fury even more.

"Lady Aurora demands your presence," Jared declared to the boy. After several heartbeats of silence, the boy responded with, "Can you wait for a few minutes? I have to get ready," then had the temerity to close the door in Jared's face. Every instinct screamed at Jared to beat the insolent whelp senseless, yet he suppressed his barbaric urges. As a respectable noble, he would comport himself accordingly.

Within roughly two minutes, the boy reappeared. Without exchanging a word, Jared strode toward the elevator, the boy sauntering behind him. They soon reached the portal station and arrived at the academic building. Jared escorted the boy to a lobby area and finally to an office bearing a door inscribed "First Year Representative."

"Come in," a voice intoned even before the knock was made. With a push, the door swung open, and there she was—his cousin, Aurora De Silva—seated behind her desk with her gaze falling on both Jared and the boy.

"Aurora, I have brought him," Jared announced.

"Good," she replied, blinking expressionlessly.

The boy performed a slight bow, addressing her formally as "Lady Aurora." Aurora turned her attention to him. "I told you you were supposed to start today, did I not?"

"I apologize; it slipped my mind," the boy offered sincerely.

Jared's voice trembled with indignation. "Wait, start what?" he demanded.

"He's my secretary as of today." Jared's mouth fell open, his jaw nearly touching the floor.

"Wa...wait, Aurora—how could you do this? A lowlife, and a boy at that. In my opinion, even if you intend for a commoner to be your secretary, you should have chosen a girl," Jared rambled in indignation.

"And since when have I cared about your opinion?" Aurora asked calmly. Jared visibly gulped at that, barely managing a muttered "Never." When he began to protest further, she cut him off with a terse, "Get out."

"What?" Jared seethed, his teeth gritted. Humiliated in front of this wretched specimen, he found it intolerable. Yet Aurora's tone remained implacably calm. Begrudgingly, he stepped toward the door and exited. Though their grandfather was the family patriarch, Aurora had more influence in the family than than even Jared's own father his own father.

**3rd POV**

Adam's heart sank at the one-sided heated exchange. 'What if he comes after me for how Aurora dismissed him' he thought.

"Come with me," commanded the captivating she-devil as she rose from behind her desk. Moving briskly toward the door on the right of the room, she slid it open to reveal the gleaming, grey metallic walls of a training room. Adam's thoughts raced: *Her own personal training room!?,* though his face betrayed none of the awe he felt. Just how lucrative was the position of First Year Representative to merit such an extravagant facility?

She stepped into the room, and Adam followed obediently, like a marionette. Once the door closed with a soft click behind them, she turned to face him. "Bring it out."

Adam paused in confusion. "Hmm?" he murmured, clearly perplexed.

"Your sword. Bring it out," she repeated firmly.

With barely concealed disdain, she continued, "I saw your performance today. To put it mildly, you were utterly pathetic."

Inwardly, Adam gritted his teeth. *There she went again with her crude remarks. At least phrase it with a bit more tact,* he mused, though he obeyed reluctantly and fetched his sword from storage.

"From your movements, it appears you have never been properly taught to wield a sword, have you?" she inquired.

Adam shook his head. "No, I have not."

"Then this lesson shall prove simpler: with a mind as empty as yours, it will be easier to instill new methods," she declared.

"Watch me," came her icy retort. In a sudden burst of authority, an ethereal purple blade materialized in her right hand. Even her long, wavy locks had been swept into a neat bun, and Adam felt as though a single misstep on his part might result in his ruination.

In a flurry of motion, she executed a vertical slash, followed by a horizontal one, and concluded with a diagonal slash so precise that it appeared to sever the very fabric of space around the blade. "Practice each of these moves exactly as I have demonstrated—thousands of times if need be—and do not cease until you have mastered them."

A torrent of confusion swirled through Adam's mind. *Wasn't he supposed to be introduced to his new role? How had this transformed into a relentless training session?* Clearing his throat, he ventured cautiously, "If I may speak, I was under the impression that my role involved serving as your secretary." Though he recognized the value of her lessons, he yearned to understand his true responsibilities.

"The role of a First Year Representative is not a mere desk job; it entails acting as the disciplinary head for the entirety of the first year. The student council comprises four leaders—the representatives of the first, second, and third years, along with the council president," she explained.

*What in heaven's name is the student council?* Adam wondered silently.

"Your duties as my secretary are to remain in the lobby and relay any visitors to me, as well as to accompany me to student council meetings. So, will you commence your training, or would you prefer to idle away your hours in the lobby?" she pressed.

Adam had no alternative but to choose training over boredom. 'Boredom is a fate worse than death' he thought. "I will begin at once, my lady," he replied, echoing her stance as he mimicked her vertical sword swing. "Wrong—widen your stance, one foot ahead of the other, and try again," she instructed.

Adam adjusted his position and swung once more. This time, he attempted the horizontal slash; yet she admonished, "Perform the vertical slash a thousand times before attempting the others." Thus, he continued with the vertical motion. "I'll be watching you," she stated, then vanished from sight.

Adam resumed his relentless slashing, muttering under his breath, "How hard could a thousand be?" His sword swung so persistently that he lost count of the repetitions and even of the passing hours. His arms began to ache under the unyielding strain until a sudden command rang out: "Stop."

Mid-swing, Adam's hands froze. Before he could process what had occurred, something latched onto his shoulder, and in an instant he found himself outside his dorm room. His racing mind offered no room for questions—only the haunting rhythm of his sword strikes remained. He scanned his bracelet, and with a click, the door opened. As soon as he closed the door behind him, it was...darknesss.

----

Just a minute ago,

Aurora sat in her room when a nagging feeling pricked at her thoughts. She had a feeling she was forgetting something, then she suddenly recalled that Adam was still training. Teleporting swiftly to the training room, she discovered him still engaged in his repetitive swings. Nearly five hours had elapsed since he commenced—he had started at roughly twenty minutes to 4 p.m., and now it was almost 9 p.m. Though she considered him somewhat pathetic, she could not help but admire his diligence.

"Stop," she ordered as he was caught mid-swing. Before he could even react, her hand latched onto his shoulder, and in the same breath, they were transported right outside his dorm room. In that fleeting instant, Aurora had already returned to her own room.

----

At dawn, Adam groaned, "Argh, why is the bed so hard?" as he gradually emerged into wakefulness. His face met the cold floor of his living room, and he muttered, "What on earth happened?" Memories cascaded back in a relentless stream—the countless swings, the relentless training. His aching arms bore silent testimony to his exertions, and he berated himself for his naivety, resolving to set an alarm next time.

It was now 6 a.m., and his stomach churned with hunger. After freshening up, he ordered a noodle dish from the local restaurant. A drone soon arrived with his meal—a dish so delicious it would go down in his memory.

Opting for a delayed start to class, Adam entered the class just minutes before 8 p.m. The room was already teeming with students. Owen grinned and waved as Adam took his seat at his usual seat. Aurora spared him not even a glance; he knew she was the one who brought him back to the dorm yesterday. Oh how embarrassing it must have been.

Shortly thereafter, Instructor Cornwell arrived. "I hope you all are ready for the mock test," she began briskly. Adam grimaced internally; he had entirely forgotten about it the moment she had departed the class the day before.

"Follow me," Cornwell instructed with no further ado. As the cadets followed her out in droves, Adam waited until almost everyone else had left before rising from his seat.

"Let's go, ma bro," he murmured to himself, reminiscing that, indeed, almost everyone had left—and notably, Owen remained behind.

*******

A/N:

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