I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

The morning after their conversation in the western courtyard, Arthur stood in his private dormitory room, strapping on his leather bracer for his regular training session.

The official destination form still rested in the center of his small wooden desk. He had written his name neatly at the top the previous night, but the destination line beneath it remained completely blank. Emily had told him not to make plans yet, and he was curious enough to see where the instruction was leading.

A sharp knock at the door broke the quiet of the morning.

Arthur had barely called for her to enter before the door swung open. Emily stepped into the room, already wearing her heavy canvas training jacket. Her eyes swept the room and landed immediately on the desk.

”You haven’t submitted it,” Emily said.

Arthur followed her gaze to the blank form. ”Someone told me not to make plans.”

Emily gave a small nod. ”Good.”

Arthur looked at her, catching the slight shift in her tone. ”That sounded suspiciously satisfied.”

”You are already late for training,” Emily replied smoothly. She stepped forward, picked up the destination form, placed it facedown on the wood, and walked back out into the corridor.

They walked out to the outdoor training court beneath a clear, bright sky.

They selected wooden practice weapons from the racks, stepped onto the heavy canvas mats, and began their usual morning spar.

Emily surged forward with her opening strike. Instead of trying to stop the heavy wooden blade, Arthur slipped outside her reach and let her momentum carry her past him.

Emily’s momentum carried her past him. She caught her balance instantly and turned back.

Emily came at him again, faster this time. Arthur had forced her to work for the first strike, and she clearly intended to make him regret it.

Arthur avoided fighting her strength directly. Every time she closed the distance, he used feints and lateral footwork to deny her a solid target. The wooden blades cracked sharply against each other as he deflected rather than blocked.

But Emily was a fast learner. After three exchanges, she began to anticipate the rhythm of his new close-range escapes. She stopped overcommitting to her strikes, using shorter, controlled swings to herd him toward the edge of the mat.

”You are running out of space, Vance,” Emily said, advancing with steady breaths.

”I prefer to call it tactical repositioning,” Arthur shot back, ducking under a horizontal sweep.

He planted his boot near the boundary line, faked a desperate retreat to the left, and sharply reversed direction. Emily shifted her weight to intercept the retreat, leaving her right flank momentarily exposed.

Arthur slipped behind her guard and tapped the blunt edge of his wooden dagger against her ribs.

”Point,” Emily acknowledged.

Satisfaction loosened Arthur’s stance for half a second.

Emily caught his wrist.

”The exchange was over,” Arthur protested as she stepped into him.

”The point was over. The spar was not.”

She turned her hips and pulled him off balance.

The courtyard spun. Arthur hit the heavy training mat hard on his back, the breath rushing out of his lungs in a sharp hiss.

Emily followed him down instantly. She landed smoothly above him, bracing her knees against the mat, and pinned his captured wrist firmly to the canvas.

Arthur looked up at her, waiting for his breath to return.

”Is this your method of preventing me from making vacation plans?” Arthur asked.

”You were distracted,” Emily said, looking down at him.

”That does not answer the question.”

Emily did not immediately release his wrist or stand up. She remained above him, holding the pin longer than was strictly necessary for a training exercise.

The silence stretched. Arthur became aware of her weight holding him against the mat, her breathing no longer as steady as before, and how little space remained between their faces.

The adrenaline of the spar began to bleed into something else entirely.

Arthur’s attention briefly dropped to the loose strand of hair against her cheek.

When he looked back at her, Emily was still watching him. She did not release his wrist.

Arthur broke the silence first.

”You know,” Arthur said quietly, ”most people simply ask someone to keep their schedule free.”

Emily pressed his wrist harder into the mat. ”Most people are easier to instruct.”

Arthur glanced deliberately at their position, then back up to her eyes. ”I am beginning to understand the appeal of your method.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed.

She released his wrist and stood, pointing her practice weapon at him.

”Again.”

Arthur reached up, accepting the hand she offered him a second later.

”You only want another chance to sit on me,” Arthur noted as his fingers closed around hers.

Emily hauled him upright much harder than necessary, nearly pulling him off his feet.

They resumed the spar, the sharp crack of wooden weapons ringing across the courtyard for another twenty minutes before they finally called an end to the session.

They sat side by side on the low stone wall bordering the court, drinking deeply from their water flasks.

The morning air was cool, drying the sweat on their faces. Neither of them mentioned the pin on the mat. They watched the rest of the academy slowly wake up, the outer courtyards beginning to fill with students moving toward the academic halls.

Arthur capped his flask and finally broke the silence.

”Have you decided what I am not allowed to plan?” Arthur asked.

Emily lowered her water. She looked at him, her expression turning serious.

”Leave the first three days of the break open,” Emily said.

Arthur looked at her. ”All three?”

”Yes.”

”For training?”

Emily paused.

”No.”

Arthur waited, but she lifted her flask and drank instead.

”Are you going to explain?”

”Not yet.”

Arthur crossed his arms. ”You are reserving three days of my life without telling me why.”

”You have no schedule,” Emily replied. ”That makes it difficult.”

”That does not make my schedule public property.”

Emily turned fully toward him on the stone wall. Her green eyes locked onto his, challenging and completely direct.

”Do you want the days back?” Emily asked.

Arthur studied her for a moment. She was waiting for a real answer.

”No,” Arthur said deliberately.

Emily’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

”Then stop complaining,” Emily told him.

”I can agree and complain simultaneously,” Arthur pointed out.

”I know,” Emily said, a faint smile finally touching the corners of her mouth.

That evening, Arthur sat at his desk and turned the destination form over in the lantern light.

He picked up his pen and wrote his official answer on the blank line.

Staying in Lornfell.

Before he slid the form into his satchel to submit the next morning, he checked the official break dates pinned to his notice board one more time. He pulled a small, torn scrap of parchment toward him and wrote down a single, simple note.

First three days — Emily.

Arthur set his pen down and looked at the words.

He still did not know what Emily intended to do with those three days.

The destination had not changed, but the break no longer looked empty.