He had Sheffield Benedict check Hannah’s schedule for the week, and then he followed her to all the freshman classes.

Dry and boring courses.

Clearly, Hannah thought so too.

The weapon models used in the classroom, though one-to-one replicas of all the components, were still without any lethal power.

They were simply for academic study.

Wayne Lane had always thought this, up until that day.

It wasn’t until the bullet landed at his feet that he finally understood why Hannah had been hiding in the woods.

She was really up to no good.

"Senior, you’ve been following me for a month now. What exactly are you trying to do?"

She emerged, standing in the light.

Her face was very pretty, always catching one’s attention in both light and shadow, but the weapon in her hand was dangerous, lethal.

Wayne Lane was very composed.

The teenager tried to appear very composed.

The invincible "War God" Wayne Lane on the battlefield was not born as such.

He too was once a boy.

Full of vigor, also feigning maturity.

He didn’t disguise his intentions, "I want to have another match with you."

He had wanted to say this for a long time.

But in the course of that month, every time he wanted to speak, he was interrupted.

Not by Hannah, but by other irresistible forces.

He was almost convinced it was deliberate on Hannah’s part.

In fact, it was deliberate.

She didn’t want to fight.

So that was her answer too, "No contest."

Wayne Lane was taken aback for a second before asking again, "Why not?"

There were many at the academy who wanted to spar with him.

Not those official matches, but private, friendly exchanges.

Much like how during study many students go to the top of the class for help during breaks.

So when Hannah rejected him so decisively and firmly, Wayne Lane was taken aback.

Perhaps Sheffield Benedict was right in calling him adolescent.

For a moment, he really thought Hannah was purposely trying to get his attention.

But the reason Hannah gave was flippant, "Just don’t feel like it."

Wayne Lane suddenly found himself at a loss for words, not knowing what to say.

He really wanted to compete.

"Alright, I’ve asked my questions, now it’s my turn," she suddenly changed the subject.

Wayne Lane was still a bit slow to react.

The sunshine was too dazzling, adding a touch of heat when falling on someone.

"Senior, you always secretly follow me around, don’t tell me..."

She suddenly drew closer.

In the girl’s still somewhat immature face was a beauty that hinted at radiance to come, and those eyes were especially bright.

Wayne Lane maintained a calm exterior.

"You’re not a pervert, are you?"

She was very serious.

That one sentence suddenly made the sunshine on his body feel no longer warm.

Wayne Lane was silent for a moment, then coldly replied, "No."

Female students at the academy privately discussed Wayne Lane, calling him aloof and ascetic, with countless girls having silent or outspoken crushes on him, too many to count on two hands.

Hannah had heard these discussions as well.

But in her eyes, Wayne Lane was a stubborn and prideful person.

Too dull.

Unwilling to say much, communicating with him was a bit of a struggle.

So later on, she enjoyed teasing him, purposely getting a rise out of him.

But he always managed to hold back just when he was about to lose his temper.

After that day, Wayne Lane stopped following her secretly and did it openly.

Perhaps it was Hannah’s conversion of the model weapons into real ones that provoked him, affirming his belief that Hannah was an expert.

An expert capable of matching him.

At lunchtime, Wayne Lane carried his tray and sat down opposite Hannah.

Completely unconcerned with the astonished looks from those around him.

Her roommate quietly asked Hannah.