I lasted maybe ten minutes before I gave up on pretending I could sleep.

This is stupid.

I sat up, swung my legs off the bed, pulled my boots back on, and stood.

This is so stupid.

But if he gets himself killed doing something idiotic before the duel even happens, I'm going to look like an asshole for not checking.

I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.

The hallways were quiet, lit by dim enchanted lanterns that cast long shadows.

I descended the stairs and stepped outside into the cool night air.

The stone pathways were lit by evenly spaced lanterns.

Okay. Where would an idiot golden retriever go?

I started walking, mentally cataloging possibilities.

Dining hall? No. He'd be back by now if he was eating.

I headed there anyway, just to be sure.

The hall was nearly empty, just a few late stragglers finishing meals or chatting quietly. No Kyle.

Library?

I doubled back, cutting across the main plaza toward the library building. The tall windows glowed with warm light, and I could see students inside, bent over books, taking notes, clearly not sleeping like sane people.

I pushed through the entrance.

The library was massive, shelves packed with books, study tables scattered throughout, the faint smell of old paper and leather bindings. A librarian sat at the front desk, an older woman with sharp eyes who looked up as I entered.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm.

"Looking for someone. About my height, brown hair, way too much energy. Seen him?"

She frowned. "No one matching that description has been here this evening."

"Thanks."

I left before she could ask more questions.

Not the library.

I walked toward the gardens next, retracing my steps from earlier.

The gardens were even quieter at night, shadows stretching long between the trees, the benches all empty now.

I checked the bench where I'd sat with Emma.

Empty.

Of course.

I kept moving, cutting through the gardens toward the eastern side of campus.

Training grounds. It has to be the training grounds.

The training grounds were dark.

Most of the lanterns had been extinguished for the night, leaving only a few scattered lights near the equipment storage and the main arena. The weapon racks stood like silent sentinels, and the practice dummies swayed slightly in the breeze.

I stopped at the edge of the main arena, scanning the area.

Nothing.

Great. He's not...

Then I saw it.

A faint glow coming from one of the smaller practice rings near the back, the kind used for solo drills or private training sessions.

I walked toward it, my boots crunching softly against the packed dirt.

As I got closer, I heard it.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The sound of wood striking wood. Over and over.

I rounded the corner of the storage shed and stopped.

Kyle was there.

Standing in the center of the practice ring, drenched in sweat, his shirt clinging to his back. His practice sword hung loosely in one hand, the tip dragging in the dirt. His chest heaved with each breath, legs trembling.

A practice dummy stood in front of him, battered, splintered, barely upright.

As I watched, Kyle raised his sword again, his movements slow and shaky.

He swung.

Thud!

The strike barely connected, glancing off the dummy's shoulder.

Kyle stumbled, catching himself with his free hand.

Then he raised the sword again.

Thud!

Another weak strike.

And his legs gave out.

He dropped to one knee, the sword clattering to the ground beside him.

And then he collapsed forward, catching himself on his hands, his head hanging low.

Jesus Christ.

I walked over, my footsteps loud in the quiet.

Kyle didn't look up. He was breathing hard, gasping, his entire body shaking.

"Kyle," I said.

No response.

I crouched down beside him. "Kyle."

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes unfocused. "Jin?"

"Yeah. It's me."

"What're you..." He coughed, sucking in air. "What're you doing here?"

"Looking for you, apparently."

He tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "I'm fine. Just... training."

"Training," I repeated flatly.

"Yeah."

"You look like you're about to die."

"I'm fine," he insisted, trying to push himself upright.

His arms gave out, and he collapsed back onto his hands.

I shook my head. "You're an idiot."

"Probably."

I stood, grabbing his arm and hauling him upright. He swayed, nearly toppling over, but I caught him, slinging his arm over my shoulder.

He weighs more than he looks.

"Come on," I said. "We're going back."

"I need to... train more," Kyle muttered, his words slurring slightly. "Marcus is... rank ten. I'm just... 389. I need to..."

"You need to not collapse before the duel even starts."

"But—"

"Kyle. Shut up."

He went quiet.

I half-dragged, half-carried him toward the edge of the training grounds, his weight pressing against my shoulder.

This is what I get for having a friend.

Absolute stupidity.

Kyle's head lolled to the side, his eyes half-closed. "Thanks, Jin."

"Don't thank me. You're still an idiot."

"Yeah." He laughed weakly. "I know."

We reached the pathway leading back to the dormitories. The walk was slow, Kyle's legs barely cooperating, his breathing still labored.

"You can't win," I said quietly.

"I know."

"Marcus is better trained. Higher rank. He's been preparing for this his whole life."

"I know."

"So why the hell did you challenge him?"

Kyle was quiet for a moment, his head hanging low.

Then he said, softly, "Because you're my friend."

I stopped walking.

Kyle lifted his head slightly, meeting my eyes. "You're my friend. And he was threatening you. So... yeah. I challenged him."

Bullshit.

"That's the dumbest reason I've ever heard," I said.

"Probably." He grinned weakly. "But it's true."

I stared at him for a moment, then started walking again, pulling him along.

"Come on," I muttered. "Let's get you back before you pass out."

"'Kay."

We walked in silence the rest of the way, the campus quiet around us.

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