My Childhood Friend Told Me to Go Marry the Most Beautiful Woman in the Kingdom, So I Seriously Started Improving Myself—and Somehow Ended Up Making Women Fall Hard - Chapter 16 & 17

Act 02

Chapter 16: The Weight of What Was Lost (2)

Side: Rina

At first, life as an apprentice court mage was rough—but somehow, I was managing in my own way.

I started waking up an hour earlier than before. 

I straightened my uniform collar, tied my hair back, and fixed my face in front of the mirror.

A perfect young lady. A perfect mage. At least—that’s how it was supposed to look.

The palace corridors were always cold. The stone floors were polished too much, making my footsteps echo strangely loud.

The gazes of people passing by brushed against my title—and then quickly turned away.

At the academy, I had graduated top of my class.

An elite student. One of the few chosen to become an apprentice court mage.

…Those labels walked ahead of me, before me.

“Next, check the records for this magic seal. There are omissions in yesterday’s portion.”

“…Yes.”

I could answer. My hands moved as told.

But I couldn’t keep up.

There wasn’t even time to breathe.

Lines of text tangled together in my head, piling up without ever loosening.

This wasn’t like academy assignments.

Here, a mistake could lead to someone’s death.

I knew that. I knew it—and yet my fingertips grew cold.

If I failed, I’d get yelled at. If I got yelled at, I’d shrink.

The more I thought about it, the narrower my vision became.

And still, the reason I was barely keeping up was—

Because of my looks, some men treated me kindly. And because of the stockpile of knowledge I’d built up over the years.

More than anything, I’d developed the habit of never letting my failures show.

♢

The corridor in the evening.

As I hurried along with a stack of reports in my arms, a sweet scent drifted softly into my path.

Perfume. Elegant—yet cloyingly sweet.

My steps stopped.

When I lifted my eyes, she was there.

Glossy brown hair loosely gathered. A pale violet dress embroidered with silver thread. Perfect posture. A thin, measured smile.

It was as if she’d been waiting there from the start—just for me.

The count’s daughter: Irene Hadius.

A former classmate. And, like me, an apprentice court mage.

“Good evening, Rina.”

Just hearing her voice made something unpleasant twist in my chest.

Ever since our academy days, she was the woman constantly lined up beside my name.

Me—the top graduate. Her—the runner-up.

Me—the gifted prodigy. Her—the gifted prodigy.

…A rival.

At least, that’s how I saw her.

I didn’t know who started calling us that, but the label stuck.

And there was one more thing about her.

A rumor from the academy.

That she had feelings for Hort.

Ridiculous—or so I used to think.

It had nothing to do with me.

But now it did. I was no longer by Hort’s side.

If she knew that, then there was only one reason she’d appear before me like this.

“…Good evening, Lady Irene.”

I smiled.

The noble lady’s mask stayed firmly in place.

I couldn’t let it crack.

If it did—I’d lose.

Irene glanced at the bundle of reports in my hands and slowly nodded.

“Oh my. Working, are you? As expected of the top graduate. Even at court, you’re quite busy.”

“Lady Irene seems to have plenty of time. Aren’t we both apprentices?”

When I answered back, she blinked once—and let out a soft laugh.

“Yes… but I don’t pretend to be busy. I finished my share without any trouble. People who work this late are usually either bad at their jobs… or cleaning up after a mistake, wouldn’t you say?”

She stabbed straight in.

Same as always.

An unpleasant woman.

I almost clicked my tongue.

“So, what do you want?”

“My, my. A noble lady with no composure. There’s no need to rush.”

Irene opened her fan and spoke slowly, hiding her lips behind it.

“I was just a little curious. Lady Rina, lately… you seem to be alone.”

“…”

She noticed. No—she knew.

That Hort was gone.

I kept my smile perfectly in place as I replied.

“It’s work. Of course I’m alone. Apprentice duties are individual tasks. They’re not something you lean on others for.”

“Oh my… how admirable.”

Irene’s fan trembled—just slightly.

“Then let me ask you this. You truly never relied on anyone, did you?”

“Yes.”

“Not even back at the academy?”

“Of course not.”

The moment I said it, something stirred uneasily in my chest.

Irene tilted her head, deliberately.

“How strange.”

And then she smiled.

Graceful. Beautiful. And filled with malice.

“At the academy, I saw it quite often. The one who carried your bag. The one who hauled your documents. The one who brewed your tea. The one who brought you your forgotten items. The one who remembered deadlines and handed things to you on time. …Tell me, who was that, I wonder?”

…My breath caught.

A sharp pain squeezed deep in my chest, like fingers crushing it from the inside.

“That was—”

“Sir Hort, of course.”

Irene placed the answer down calmly.

Before I could say it myself.

“You’ve been using him this whole time, haven’t you?”

“I-I wasn’t using him—!”

My voice came out too strong.

Damn it.

I quickly steadied my breathing and forced my face back into a noble lady’s smile.

“He’s my childhood friend. Helping each other is only natural.”

“Oh my.”

Irene snapped her fan shut.

Click. A dry, sharp sound.

“Helping each other?”

That single phrase landed quietly—and painfully.

“Then tell me, Lady Rina… what did you do for Sir Hort?”

“…”

No words came.

What had I done? Helped him? Supported him?

I tried to remember—and my mind went completely blank.

He was always there.

Even without being asked.

Reading my mood. Making time. Clearing obstacles away. Setting everything up so I could do my best.

And I’d taken all of it for granted.

Irene’s voice pierced in, elegant and merciless.

“Sir Hort spoke highly of you, you know.”

“…!”

“He said, ‘Rina is perfect.’ ‘She’s amazing.’ ‘She’s beautiful.’”

My vision wavered.

If I had heard those words back then—of course I would’ve been happy.

But me?

Had I ever praised him?

Had I ever properly said, “I’m glad you’re here”?

“Lady Rina.”

Irene took a single step closer.

The scent of her perfume grew stronger.

“You still haven’t realized it, have you?”

Her voice was low.

Her smile—beautiful.

“What happened to your spirit?”

“…”

“Weren’t you recognized as an apprentice court mage because you completed a spirit contract? And that too—because Sir Hort was there.”

…No. That’s not true.

That was my achievement.

Hort had nothing to do with it—

I wanted to say it out loud.

But the words wouldn’t come. Because I had nothing to prove it.

In my memories, Hort was always the one doing things for me.

I couldn’t find a single thing I’d done for him.

Irene smiled, clearly satisfied.

“I’m here because my work on elemental magic theory was recognized. The clue that led me there came from Sir Hort. That’s why I respect him.”

She looked at me.

“Now that he’s gone, aren’t you having a hard time?”

“…I’m not having a hard time!”

“If you’re not, then how wonderful.”

She shrugged lightly.

“But I can tell,” she said softly.

“Right now, Lady Rina, you’re desperately trying not to let your face fall apart.”

That line was fatal.

I drew in a breath. 

My chest hurt. It hurt so much—but I couldn’t let my expression break.

Anger rose—and Irene smiled gently, as if delivering the final move in a game.

“Please don’t worry. I only came to comfort you.”

“…Comfort me?”

“Yes. I simply wish to cherish him properly—in your place.”

That single sentence made my head burn.

Anger. Impatience. And a nameless, creeping fear.

“How dare you—!”

“How dare I?”

Irene tilted her head.

“Wasn’t it you who acted however you pleased?”

I had no answer.

My throat tightened.

I pulled the bundle of reports closer to my chest and forced a smile.

The perfect noble lady’s mask.

“…I have work to do. Excuse me.”

“Yes. By all means.”

Irene bowed deeply.

Beautifully. Elegantly.

And as she passed by, she whispered into my ear.

“So, who will support you next, Rina?”

I walked down the corridor with those words stabbing into my back.

My footsteps echoed far too loudly.

The palace stone beneath my shoes felt cold.

…What had I lost?

I should have known.

I just didn’t want to admit it.

Chapter 17: The Weight of What Was Lost (3)

To be officially recognized as a court mage, you had to pass several examinations.
Today was one of those days.

The air felt heavy from the morning.

Deep within the royal palace lay a sealed inner courtyard.
An open-air, circular ritual site—its stone floor carved with ancient magic circles. Wind slipped between the pillars, carrying distant sounds from the outside world.

In the observation seats, court mages sat in silence, looking down at the backs of the apprentices.

This was a place of judgment.

At their core, court mages were researchers.

Even an apprentice could earn a seat—if they showed results.

Fail to do so, and you’d end as nothing more than a former top student.

I steadied my breathing. Straightened my uniform collar. Gathered my hair. Stood tall.

A perfect noble lady. A perfect mage.

At least—that’s how it had to look.

Inside, my chest felt cold.

My test was spirit summoning.

To successfully reproduce the research I’d completed during my academy days—right here.

Normally, it was just proof of a thesis. A simple test that shouldn’t fail.

I was nervous, yes—but I wasn’t truly worried.

-Spirit summoning required enormous magical power.
-Compatibility.
-And above all, the spirit’s will—to want the contract.

If there was one thing that unsettled me, it was this.

That the evaluation hinged on something beyond my own effort.

Whether I would be chosen or not.

That something so vague could decide a royal examination—that was what made this frightening.

“Next. Rina Carhoi.”

I was called.

Eyes gathered on me—expectation, jealousy, curiosity.

Top graduate. Genius. Promising future.

Those labels were still walking ahead of me.

I stepped into the center of the circle.

The moment I stood at the heart of the magic circle, a chill crept up from the soles of my feet.

The stone was old—stone that absorbed mana.

I removed my gloves and lightly snapped my fingers.

I let my mana circulate. I adjusted the flow inside my body, syncing it with my breathing.

It’s fine.

Summoning isn’t the problem. Summoning can be reached through effort.

The problem is what comes after.

I closed my eyes. And began the chant. 

My voice didn’t waver. It didn’t tremble.

What was needed wasn’t emotion—but will and calculation.

“Answer my name. Cross the boundary. Take your seat in the contract—”

The magic circle glowed faintly. The light became lines. The lines spread into a surface. The air warped. The temperature shifted. My skin prickled.

I sensed movement in the observation seats.

Mana—sufficient. Affinity—no issues on paper.

I cut the chant.

“Come.”

The light burst.

At the center of the ritual space, a shape emerged.

A beast-like silhouette formed within white mist.

A tail swaying like wings. Horns gleaming like reflections on water.

The summoning succeeded.

For just a moment, I let out a breath.

I can do this.

I reached out my hand.

“The contract—”

The spirit stopped in front of me.

Then, a red, eye-like glow looked up at me.

Cold. 

It shouldn’t have emotions—and yet, there was a clear rejection there.

The spirit shook its head.

Small. But decisive.

A stir rippled through the observation seats.

For a moment—I didn’t understand what had just happened.

“…Huh?”

The summoning had succeeded.

I had enough mana.

The circle wasn’t distorted.

And yet—the spirit didn’t take my hand.

It didn’t step toward the seat of contract.

From the fingertips I offered, it gently pulled away.

And then—I heard it.

Not a voice.

A sensation that dropped straight into my mind.

(I do not wish to contract.)

I froze.

My fingertips went cold. My throat tightened.

That can’t be true. It had to be wrong.

I was the top graduate. I worked hard. I made it this far.

The spirit looked at me once more—just once—and then dissolved into the mist and vanished.

The light of the magic circle faded quietly.

What remained was silence.

And eyes that hurt just to feel.

The air of the ritual hall stabbed against my skin.

Someone cleared their throat.

A calm, emotionless voice echoed.

“Spirit summoning: success. Contract: failure. Therefore—failed.”

Those words collapsed inside my chest with a dull sound.

I tried to smile.

I tried to put the mask back on.

But my lips wouldn’t move.

My fingers trembled.

…I didn’t know what I’d done wrong.

And not knowing—that was what scared me most.

♢

When I stepped out of the ritual hall, the palace corridor felt painfully bright.

Every time my footsteps echoed against the stone floor, that rejection replayed in my head.

—I do not wish to contract.

Even if I wanted it, if the other side didn’t—it would never happen.

That was a spirit contract.

Which meant—I hadn’t been chosen.

Heat burned deep in my chest.

Embarrassment. Humiliation.

The top graduate—rejected.

I lifted my face.

Everyone pretended not to look.

But they were looking.

Rumors would spread fast. That top student failed the contract.

My pace quickened.

As I turned a corner in the corridor, a shadow blocked my way.

“Rina.”

That voice made my spine stiffen.

Magnum Flabo Galactica.

Apprentice court mage. Son of a duke.

He looked down at me, wearing an easy smile.

“Are you alright? Spirit contracts have an element of luck. Don’t worry about it. You’ll succeed with the next spirit.”

“It’s not luck.”

The sharpness in my voice surprised even me.

Magnum narrowed his eyes for just a moment.

“…I see. Still, your ability hasn’t declined. There will be a next time.”

“Next time?”

The corner of my mouth twitched on its own.

That was what I hated most. 

Being told there was a next. Being pushed into the role of someone to be comforted—spoken to gently from above, as if that helped.

“Don’t comfort me.”

“I’m not trying to comfort you. You—”

“Shut up!”

My voice jumped.

I knew this wasn’t a voice you raised in a palace corridor.

I knew it—and still couldn’t stop.

Everything piled up deep in my chest surged upward.

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve done!? How much I studied, how many nights I stayed up, how much I—!”

My breathing broke. My throat burned.

It was embarrassing. But I couldn’t stop.

“And then it says it doesn’t want to contract—what is that!? Are you saying it’s my fault!? That I didn’t try hard enough!? That being top of the class means nothing!?”

The ease vanished from Magnum’s face.

“Calm down, Rina. This is the royal palace.”

“So what!? Should I just embarrass myself quietly!? You’ve got it easy!”

The moment I said it, I realized it.

I’d stepped somewhere I shouldn’t have.

But I still couldn’t stop.

“You’re from a ducal family, you’re talented, everything you do gets praised! Even if you fail, it’s just ‘there’s a next time’! Unlike me—”

I cut off.

Unlike me—what?

Unlike me, who has to be perfect?

Unlike me, who carries expectations?

No. That wasn’t it.

There was another name stuck deep in my throat.

Hort.

If he were here, this wouldn’t have happened.

The thought made me angry—at myself most of all.

Magnum let out a quiet breath.

“…You’re confused right now. Everyone fails at some point.”

“I don’t fail.”

I said it outright.

I shouldn’t have—but I did.

And yet, reality was already staring me in the face.

The spirit rejected me. I wasn’t chosen.

Magnum took a single step closer.

“You’re talented. That’s why you can start over.”

“Don’t touch me!”

I flinched back on instinct.

Pathetic.

I could feel myself falling apart.

For just a moment, Magnum’s eyes cooled.

“…Alright. Let’s end this here for today.”

With that, he stepped away.

Being left behind like that only made it worse.

I stood there, clenching my fists.

My nails dug into my palms.

It hurt—but pain was the only thing keeping me together.

Failing the spirit contract.

A major strike against me as an apprentice court mage.

…And today, I couldn’t ask anyone for help.

I didn’t know how.

And because of that, one name kept surfacing in my mind.

Hort.

If it were you… what would you have said?