My Ruin to You - Chapter 195

“What’s his problem? Did he eat something wrong?”

At the time, she didn’t think much of it. She had no time to dwell on it anyway, as she had to move locations under the professor’s guidance. Soon, teams were assigned. The novices were paired up in twos based on their grades and grouped with an experienced Manifestor. Roseline’s partner was Malsen—a result of pairing those with excellent grades and those without. The two partners were even assigned to the same barracks, meaning they now shared living quarters.

Malsen, who had grown noticeably quiet these past few days, made her feelings known with sullen looks and long sighs. Ruav, who had been treading carefully and catering to Malsen’s whims, also seemed equally displeased with the team assignments, letting out nothing but troubled sighs. For reference, Ruav’s partner was Schnitzel.

“Dammit.”

Schnitzel kicked a pebble, voicing her discontent. Feeling sorry for Ruav, who had to watch her step, Roseline gently chided Schnitzel.

“I understand you’re disappointed, but please don’t be like that. Wherever you’re assigned, you’ll do well, my lady.”

“Who’s disappointed? What, you think I’m disappointed because I wanted to be in the same team as you?”

“Why? I wanted to be in the same team as you, my lady.”

“Well, I’ll be. You’ve got good taste.”

Schnitzel rubbed her ear roughly for no reason—a sign her mood had improved. Soon, they each moved out with their superiors.

“I am Viscount Cloaude Mür. This is a battlefield, and you are warriors fighting against the enemy. You will obey not courtesy, but only orders. Disobedience will be considered insubordination.”

Roseline’s superior was a slender young man. Though his immediate emphasis on military discipline to establish hierarchy felt excessive, it was, as he said, a battlefield. Roseline accepted this and replied, “Yes.”

“Especially you, Malsen. Your grades were at the bottom. At the Academy, you might have had chances to improve, but the battlefield is different. Be especially careful.”

“……”

“Have you lost your tongue?”

“…No, sir. I’ll keep that in mind.”

After scanning Malsen, Mür turned his gaze to Roseline.

“The same goes for you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“A comrade’s mistake is my mistake. If you don’t want to be punished together, don’t get cocky just because you’re capable; guide your lacking comrade instead. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

She had thought he was similar to Merrick, but she had misjudged. Mür was a type she was encountering for the first time. To put it nicely, he was strict; to put it poorly, he was unlikable. Above all, he was inflexible.

Unlike other teams who rested and prepared for the next day since it was only the first day, Roseline and Malsen had to train until late at night. Every time the tense Malsen made a mistake, he nagged so relentlessly that Roseline, watching from the side, felt her own energy draining.

Training only ended after Malsen’s magical power was completely exhausted. That night, Malsen sobbed for a long time under her blanket. Thinking any hasty comfort might only hurt her pride, Roseline quietly shared only her own magical power.

Such days repeated. At a glance, while other teams were simply harmonious, Roseline’s team continued to be swept by a cold, wintry atmosphere under Mür’s nitpicking and nagging. Malsen was cowed, and Roseline was constantly watching her step—so much so that she started to feel like she was developing a squint from all the tension.

“Sigh, hopeless.”

Today, the reprimands began without fail. Two days prior, a thousand troops had disrupted the enemy’s rear in a surprise attack, and yesterday, the main force had set out. As the war commenced, the number of injured surged, and the once-leisurely healing tents became busy.

Since magical power was limited, they couldn’t heal everyone. The Manifestors examined the critically injured patients, while physicians tended to minor wounds. Depending on the severity of the injury, the amount of magical power consumed varied; in severe cases, even four or five experienced Manifestors would work together.

Each team utilized its trainees differently: some teams had all members healing patients, while others divided roles. Roseline’s team was the latter. Mür and Malsen were in charge of healing, while Roseline replenished their magical power.

This was due to Mür’s stubbornness. Even Malsen found direct healing burdensome, but he stubbornly insisted and refused to switch their roles. The intimidated Malsen would sometimes cast protective magic when healing magic was needed. It was frustrating. Why was the protective magic that never seemed to come out at the Academy appearing only now?

Unable to watch any longer, Roseline requested a role change, but it was flatly rejected.

‘I am the team leader. Know your place and stop meddling; just do your job properly.’

It was maddening. As the same situation repeated daily, Roseline’s suspicion naturally turned toward Valen. Was it possible he had deliberately assigned this madman to her team?