"Excuse me, are you alright?"
Her voice was soft, filled with genuine concern.
I couldn't help but let out a faint smirk.
How considerate.
I quickly wiped the smirk away, replacing it with a friendly, disarming smile.
"Yes, I'm fine," I replied, keeping my tone light and steady.
The woman's expression softened almost immediately, mirroring my smile.
Good.
I took note of the warmth in her eyes—the subtle easing of tension in her shoulders. She was buying it.
I exhaled softly, allowing a relieved sigh to escape, as if grateful for her kindness.
I couldn't afford to miss this opportunity.
Fortunately, lying with my face came as easily as breathing.
From a young age, I had learned how to control my expressions—to reveal only what I wanted others to see. To wear whatever mask suited the situation.
And right now, the mask I needed was that of a tired but harmless cadet. Friendly. Polite. Vulnerable.
And it was working.
"You look very tired," she said, her voice gentle. "Maybe you should rest a bit before going any further?"
Her concern sounded sincere—genuine, even. Like she was just a random hiker offering well-meaning advice.
But I knew better.
She wasn't just some passerby.
No, I knew exactly who she was.
The Chairman's right-hand woman.
Lena.
A professor at Velcrest Academy—and soon to be the protagonist's homeroom teacher.
Her striking features were unmistakable. Gorgeous, flowing black hair and eyes the color of deep emeralds—bright and piercing, yet deceptively warm.
Hardly the look of an ordinary hiker.
But it wasn't her beauty that gave her away.
No—it was the earrings.
Delicate, adorned with emerald-green jewels that perfectly matched her eyes.
Jewels that were far more than mere decoration.
The Chairman had crafted them himself—personally forging them as a gift for her when she was young. A keepsake meant only for her.
That was how I knew.
Without a doubt, the Chairman had sent her.
He must have caught wind of my reckless stunt—either my bold prediction of the terrorist attack or the reckless use of my talent, [Enhancement].
Of course.
It was only a matter of time before the Chairman took interest.
But that was fine.
Because right now, Lena wasn't here as a hunter.
She was here as a watcher.
And I was going to make sure she saw exactly what I wanted her to.
She was probably watching me from the very start.
I had predicted that she might be observing me, but I hadn't been able to figure out from where.
In fact, if she hadn't revealed herself just now, I wouldn't have known she was watching at all.
Her approach was subtle—almost casual—but I wasn't fooled.
She had been keeping tabs on me.
"No, I'm sorry," I said, forcing a faint smile. "But I can't rest. I need to keep going a little further."
Lena frowned slightly, her eyes sweeping over me with a clinical sharpness. She didn't miss a thing.
"You're sweating a lot," she pointed out, her voice steady but firm. "Your breathing is rough and uneven. And… you're trembling." Her gaze narrowed. "I think you really need to rest. Even just for a bit."
I clenched my jaw.
Damn.
There was no need for her to spell it out—I already knew how pathetic I looked. A seventeen-year-old boy barely able to stand, drenched in sweat, limbs shaking from the strain.
I wanted to scoff. To say something self-deprecating.
Yeah, I'm a real mess, huh?
But I held my tongue.
I couldn't let my frustration slip. Not yet.
Instead, I chuckled weakly, keeping my expression as lighthearted as I could.
"Haha, you're right. I probably should rest." I exhaled shakily, pretending to brush it off with casualness I didn't feel. "But… I can't. I've been weak ever since I was young, so I want to push myself a little further. You know… to build up my health."
It was a flimsy excuse. But I said it with just enough earnestness to make it sound believable.
And from what I remembered about her character in the novel…
Lena was the type who tried to keep her cool in every situation. She wore a mask of composure—calm, aloof, professional.
But in reality, she was nothing like that.
Behind that cool façade was someone far too kind and far too meddlesome for her own good.
No way was she the kind of person who could turn a blind eye to a struggling cadet.
And she definitely wouldn't say something like, "You can't improve your health by exhausting yourself," even if she was thinking it.
She wouldn't be able to leave me here.
I could see the hesitation flicker in her eyes.
That was my cue.
"Actually…" I lowered my voice, as if confessing something. "I heard there's a spring with medicinal water around the middle of this mountain, so I came to look for it." I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing away as if embarrassed. "I'm not very healthy, so… I wanted to try it. Thought maybe it could help."
I didn't have to fake the exhaustion in my voice—it was already there.
Her expression softened instantly.
I caught the subtle shift in her eyes—the fleeting flash of pity.
Got her.
"Ah…" Her voice lowered slightly, almost apologetic. "I'm sorry for bringing up such a heavy topic… especially since we're strangers." She looked genuinely regretful.
I forced a small, self-deprecating smile and took a shaky step back.
"I'll excuse myself now," I mumbled quietly, as if unwilling to burden her further.
Then, with visible effort, I dragged my reluctant feet forward.
I didn't need to act pitiful.
I was pitiful.
Every step felt like trudging through thick mud, my legs threatening to buckle beneath me. My arms felt heavy, my breath shallow.
But I kept going.
At this moment, I was a challenger facing my limits.
A pitiful young man refusing to succumb to fate.
And from the corner of my eye, I caught the faint crease of worry on Lena's brow.
She won't leave me alone.
Just as I wanted.