Chapter 20 – Naïve, Stubborn and Low EQ

The match between Jullius and Kale concluded about half an hour later without a definitive result. However, anyone with a shred of experience could see the truth: it ended only because Jullius had run out of steam. Kale, on the other hand, didn’t look the least bit exhausted.

Standing off to the side, Andrew Matthew was grinning ear to ear, clearly relishing the sight of his rival being humbled.

Jullius was visibly livid with the outcome. He hurled his wooden sword aside and barked irritably:

“Asher, water!”

At that moment, I was preoccupied with my sparring match against Ethan. Distracted by the shout, I took a wooden blade full-force to the head.

I staggered and fell back onto the ground. Reaching up to touch my scalp, I felt a small lump already forming. It wasn’t bleeding much, but it stung like hell. Ethan looked startled; he’d gotten a bit carried away and hadn’t been able to pull his strike in time.

“Are you okay?” he asked hurriedly.

I frowned. “I’m fine.”

Jullius didn’t even bother to look over. He just shouted louder:

“Asher!”

The pain was making me lose my temper. Is he a weaning toddler crying for milk? Can’t he lift his own damn ass to go get some water?

I ignored the brat, sitting perfectly still as if I hadn’t heard a word. Suddenly, a figure stepped forward and stood right in front of me, their back turned to my face.

Kale was now blocking Jullius’s line of sight toward me. He spoke flatly:

“He’s busy.”

Huh?

Is he… defending me? But he wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence this morning. This kid is incredibly hard to read.

Jullius was so stunned by the remark that he stood there blankly, momentarily at a loss for how to react. Everyone at the Academy knew I was his attendant; they were used to seeing me ordered around like a gopher, and no one was ever foolish enough to intervene.

Kale turned back to look at me. “Go to the infirmary.”

I didn’t think it was that necessary. It was just a knock to the head.

“I don’t think I need to.”

For some reason, the kid still insisted.

“Go. I’ll take you.”

And so, half-coerced, I began walking toward the infirmary. Kale followed right behind me like he was escorting a prisoner to a cell.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I shot him a confused look.

“I’m telling you, I’m fine. I want to get back to my sword practice.”

His honest-looking face remained void of emotion as he spoke:

“I was once hit on the head with a wooden sword just like you. My master told me to rest, but I didn’t listen. I ended up with a concussion, vomiting, and stuck in bed for two days.”

Oh. So he actually is worried about me.

“I thought you disliked me,” I noted. “I tried to give you the answer this morning and you didn’t even look at it.”

“That would be cheating.”

If it were anyone else, I’d think they were joking. But Kale’s expression was so earnest that it was impossible to associate him with the word “deceit.”

“Then what about last night?”