Raiden was currently dead to the world.

He'd woken up before dawn as usual, stretched a little, and planned to head out to the training grounds.

But the soreness from the previous night's training hit harder than a hammer to the ribs. His arms ached, his legs felt like stone, and even his eyelids protested the effort of staying open.

"I strongly believe that I, Raiden Goldheart, deserve five more minutes," he murmured, burying his face back into his pillow.

Five minutes turned into thirty. Then an hour. Then two.

When he next stirred, the faint morning light was already filtering through his window. The air was still cool, carrying that familiar crispness that came just before the estate came alive for the day.

He yawned and sat up halfway. "Maybe Sir Leonard won't come today," he muttered hopefully. "He did say he was going on a mission, right? Yeah… maybe he's still away."

That comforting thought lulled him back down into his sheets.

And that was when he felt it. A familiar presence.

It was faint at first, almost unnoticeable. The air shifted slightly. The soft rustle of fabric. But before his sleepy brain could make sense of it, a cold voice spoke right beside his ear.

"Still asleep, Raiden?"

"GAAAH—!"

Raiden bolted upright—but too late. A strong arm hooked under him, and before he could even blink, he was hoisted clean off his bed.

"W-Wait, wait, WAIT—!"

The next thing he knew, his world turned upside down. Literally.

He was carried—no, dragged—through the air like a sack of potatoes, his blanket still half-wrapped around him. The sound of rushing water filled his ears a second before icy shock consumed his entire body.

Splash!

Water surged up around him, cold enough to freeze his thoughts solid. His body reacted on instinct, thrashing wildly as he came sputtering to the surface of his own bathtub.

"Wh-WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" he choked, hair plastered to his face, nightshirt clinging to his skin. He blinked through the water to see the culprit standing over him, arms crossed, face unreadable.

Sir Leonard.

Not a hair out of place, not a drop of water on him, not even a visible trace of guilt.

Raiden gaped at him, still dripping. "You—you threw me in the bath?"

Sir Leonard tilted his head slightly, his tone calm and maddeningly casual. "Correction. I placed you there."

"That was not placing! That was attempted drowning!"

The man's lips twitched, like he was fighting back a laugh. "You seemed in desperate need of a wake-up call."

Raiden scowled, pushing his soaked hair back. "I was sleeping! Like a normal person!"

Leonard exhaled sharply through his nose, almost a sigh. "A shame. You've just wasted precious morning hours. Training should've started at dawn, not at—" He glanced at the wall clock. "—half past seven."

Raiden groaned, dragging himself out of the tub and glaring at the knight. "You weren't even here yesterday! You said you had a mission!"

"And now I'm back," Leonard replied smoothly. "One does not pause progress just because their teacher was momentarily unavailable."

Raiden grabbed a towel and pointed it accusingly at him. "I'm reporting you to Father for almost drowning me!"

Finally, Leonard's restraint broke. A single, quiet chuckle escaped him before he smoothed his expression again. "If you had drowned, Raiden, it would have been a tragic waste of potential… but still preferable to watching you sleep through your own potential."

Raiden's mouth fell open. "Did you just say it'd be better if I drowned?!"

"Better for me," Leonard corrected, utterly unbothered. "Less stress."

"You're evil," Raiden muttered, wringing out his wet hair.

"I've been called worse," Leonard replied, his usual faint smile flickering across his face. "Now, dry off. You have five minutes. Training waits for no one."

Raiden glared daggers at him. "I trained till midnight! I deserve a little rest!"

"You deserve results," Leonard countered simply, turning toward the door. "You may have potential, Raiden, but potential alone rots quickly without pressure."

Raiden grumbled under his breath, "If pressure turns coal into diamonds, then I'll turn into dust first."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Raiden shouted quickly.

Leonard gave a short nod, satisfied. "Good. Wash up, dress properly, and meet me outside."

And just like that, he was gone. Not "walked out the door" gone—more like vanished. No sound, no trace. The door didn't even creak.

Raiden sighed, water still dripping from his chin. "How does he do that? Is he human or shadow?"

He shook his head and focused on getting ready. If he delayed too long, Leonard might reappear inside the mirror next.

Ten minutes later, Raiden stepped out into the bright morning air, still tugging his shirt straight. His hair was half-dry, sticking up in wild tufts. He yawned once, stretching his stiff arms.

The training yard behind the main building was quiet—too quiet. He scanned the area, searching for any sign of his teacher. The man was nowhere in sight.

"Did he leave again?" Raiden muttered hopefully.

A voice answered from behind him.

"Late. Again."

Raiden jumped nearly a foot off the ground. Sir Leonard stood there, impossibly close, his presence as silent as ever. How he kept sneaking up on people was one of life's greatest mysteries.

"Would you stop doing that?!" Raiden snapped, spinning around. "You're gonna give me a heart attack before I even reach my teenage years!"

Leonard smiled faintly, clearly enjoying himself. "I did knock."

"No, you didn't!"

"I did...just not loud enough for you to hear."

Raiden groaned and rubbed his temples. "You're impossible."

"I've been told that as well," Leonard said cheerfully.

Raiden blinked. "Are you actually… happy right now?"

The knight's expression remained perfectly calm. "Of course. I'm simply glad to see you in one piece after your little solo training escapade." His gaze sharpened suddenly, and Raiden froze. "Did you really train until midnight again?"

Raiden forced a nervous laugh. "W-Who told you that?"

"Your eyes," Leonard replied. "And the way you're moving. Your body is stiff, but not from sleep. It's from exhaustion."

He took a step forward, tone dropping into that mentor's firmness Raiden both respected and dreaded. "You may have drive, Raiden. But drive without discipline leads to collapse."

Raiden crossed his arms stubbornly. "I do have discipline."

"Then prove it," Leonard said simply. "Be on your feet, focused, ready—no excuses. Starting now."

Raiden sighed heavily, realizing there was no escape. "Fine. What are we doing today?"

Leonard's mouth curved into a thin smile. "Today, we see if you've actually improved while I was away."

That smile worried Raiden. It was the exact same smile the man wore right before kicking him unconscious a few days ago.

Leonard, on the other hand, seemed perfectly pleased with himself. "I've prepared something special."

Raiden narrowed his eyes. "Special as in… terrifying?"

"Special as in enlightening," Leonard corrected. "Depending on your definition of both."

Raiden swallowed. "Why do I feel like I'm about to regret waking up?"

Leonard glanced at him sideways, his smile widening just slightly. "Because you probably will."

Raiden groaned. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I never enjoy suffering," Leonard said smoothly. "But watching progress? That's a different story."

Raiden wasn't convinced. He muttered under his breath, "Yeah, sure—progress. That's what you call torture these days."

Leonard's ears twitched. "I heard that."

"You weren't supposed to!"

"Good. Then you'll learn to whisper quieter next time."

Raiden sighed, defeated. He stood properly and took his position in the training yard. Leonard observed him silently, the corners of his lips twitching again, as though he was seconds away from another laugh.

Finally, Raiden broke the silence. "Why are you smiling like that?"

Leonard tilted his head, eyes gleaming faintly. "Because you remind me of myself when I was your age."

Raiden blinked, surprised. "You mean… small, stubborn, and sleep-deprived?"

Leonard chuckled quietly, the sound rare and fleeting. "Precisely."

Raiden couldn't help it—he laughed too, shaking his head. "Guess that means there's hope for me yet."

Leonard nodded once, expression returning to its usual composed state. "There always is, Raiden. But only if you don't oversleep."

Raiden groaned. "You're never letting that go, are you?"

"Not for at least a week."

And with that, Sir Leonard clapped his hands once, the sound sharp and commanding. "Enough talk. Draw your sword."

Raiden sighed and reached for his wooden blade. "I should've just stayed in the bath…"

"You still can," Leonard said mildly, settling into stance. "After training. Perhaps I'll even throw you back in myself."

Raiden's eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

Leonard's faint smile returned. "Wouldn't I?"

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