While the other card classes were raving about the Heart Class's victory, the Heart Class itself didn't seem particularly concerned about being the first to defeat the combat puppet. What truly caught their attention now was something else entirely—Yuna's offhanded promise of a reward if they succeeded.
"I wonder what Yuna will give us."
"Something she bought, maybe? But she doesn't have many points…"
"I want something handmade! That would feel more special."
"I'll take anything—as long as it's from Yuna."
They whispered amongst themselves, voices low but tinged with excitement.
Yuna, whose senses were sharper than most, caught every word. On the surface, her classmates looked composed and normal, but inwardly, they were buzzing like children before a festival—eager, giddy, and obsessed over what their prize might be.
Yuna pressed her lips together. When she had made the promise back then, she hadn't expected them to actually win so soon!
And besides… all she said was "I'll think about it!"—not "I'll definitely give you something!"
Sigh…
What a pain.
Children… really are troublesome.
"Yuna, look at this!" Celeste called out, interrupting her train of thought. Yuna turned to see her friend grinning, a book suspended mid-air in front of her.
"Cool, right?" Celeste beamed. "It's floating with soundwaves! I trapped a specific frequency around the book, so you can't even hear it."
Just as she finished explaining, the book began to tremble violently before dropping with a thud to the floor.
"Oops. Still working on the control part," she laughed, sheepishly picking it up before nudging Yuna. "Soo… what are you going to give us?"
"Not you too…" Yuna muttered, pushing Celeste's face away.
"Hey! I was the main fighter too! I deserve a reward," Celeste huffed in mock indignation. Then, as if it were nothing, she casually brought up past grievances. "By the way, when you got mad at us back then, you were super intimidating."
Yuna reached over and pinched Celeste's cheek without hesitation. "Serves you right. Weren't you the reckless one who blasted herself during that so-called epiphany with your new sound control?"
"Ehh, that was when I just started! Can't be helped. But look at me now—totally under control!"
"No excuses," Yuna's voice turned cool.
Celeste quickly clung to Yuna's arm, her voice suddenly syrupy. "Okay okay, you're right~ don't be mad~"
——
That night, Yuna sat cross-legged on her bed, thinking hard about what she could possibly give her classmates.
The open window stirred slightly, and in fluttered her raven—her summoned companion who, despite being left to roam freely during the day, always returned before sunset. Yuna never bothered to cage it in her room or bind it to a summoned space. It was a bird, after all. Birds should be allowed to fly freely.
Though not a particularly powerful summon, her raven was highly spiritual and surprisingly clever. It understood her words and emotions well and had a deeply affectionate personality. The moment it landed, it cooed and rubbed itself against her cheek and neck, seeking affection like a child.
Yuna instinctively reached out to stroke its feathers.
"Darling," she murmured, "what should I give those brats for winning first place in combat?"
The raven cawed, as if also deep in thought. Its black, beady eyes looked at her with such solemn curiosity that Yuna almost laughed.
"By the way… Celeste said she named her summon. Do you have a name, darling?"
The raven nodded before hopping to the desk and picking up a pencil with its claw. It scratched a word across a scrap of paper—very adept, the word is in a language Yuna couldn't recognize.
"Huh. I'll ask Professor Veyne how to read it tomorrow," she said, smiling.
She was relieved, honestly. She'd been so busy and exhausted, the thought of naming anything felt like too much effort. Every day was socially draining. By the time she returned to her dorm, her energy was gone. Her head would hit the pillow and she'd be out like a light.
Please, she has a limited social battery….
Also, it had also been forever since she'd properly trained her elemental abilities.
She was neglectful.
Her fire element—her main offense—was due for refining, especially its heat control. Her wind element, aside from its drifting effect and that one particular application, had stagnated. Her plant affinity had mostly been nurtured for her apothecary garden rather than battle. As for her earth and water abilities… well, she hadn't touched them at all.
To be honest, she wasn't the most dedicated person.
Back when she'd first arrived in this world, she had been driven by a sense of urgency. Fear. That had pushed her to hone her fire and wind abilities. But now that her basic safety was secured, she had gotten complacent.
Yuna sighed, a hint of guilt prickling her chest.
She should do better. Fire wasn't always enough—what if she faced an enemy immune to flame? Then what?
Learning water and earth element was necessary. At the very least, she had to raise them to the same level as her fire and wind. Once she reached that point, then she could afford to be lazy again.
She glanced at her classmates earlier—how they displayed their flashy, powerful abilities with such pride. It stirred something in her… not quite jealousy, but a sense of urgency that she is not decently strong enough.
If only her fire could absorb other fires…
Her thoughts stalled. Something clicked faintly in the back of her mind.
Wait… Could that be possible?
But Yuna then shook her head.
'No. Forget it. Don't give yourself more trouble than you already have'
She ended up chatting with her classmates about how to use various abilities, and before she realized it, she'd started absorbing their enthusiasm without meaning to. That shouldn't have happened—she didn't have the energy to be getting swept up like that.
First things first: water and earth. She was genuinely curious what those abilities could offer when properly developed.
Maybe it was finally time to crack open that old elemental book her master gave her. It had collected dust on her shelf for long enough.
And tomorrow, she would start again. A little less lazy. A little more prepared.
Just in case.
Now that she thought about it, there really wasn't anything Yuna was particularly excited to learn. As a certified lazy person, all she ever truly wanted was to eat, sleep, and then sleep some more—so really, that was perfectly normal for her… right?
…..
The Heart Class filed into the classroom, each student heading to their usual seat. As they sat down, their eyes were immediately drawn to a small crocheted figure placed neatly on their desks—a tiny keychain doll crafted in their own likeness.
It was obvious at a glance who had made them. These were gifts from Yuna.
Excitement rippled through the classroom like a current. The students held the delicate keychains with care, their eyes shining as they gently clipped them onto their belts. Radiant smiles bloomed across their faces, warmth and appreciation brimming in their expressions.
They wanted to say thank you. To crowd around Yuna and express their joy. But Yuna sat silently in her seat, her gaze fixed on the pages of her book, her face unreadable as always. Not even a glance in their direction. Understanding her nature all too well, the class swallowed their words, not daring to disturb their emotionally-reserved class representative.
She was far too thin skinned when it came to expressing affection. Hmph.
Yuna calmly flipped the page of her elemental book, completely ignoring the buzz of the room as though it had nothing to do with her.
She had given it a lot of thought before settling on this gift: crocheted dolls—small enough to use as keychains or hang from a belt, each one tailored to resemble its owner.
She couldn't carve wooden dolls like her grandfather once did, but crocheting? That, she could manage. It was a skill she had picked up during her college days to earn some quick cash. Her monthly allowance back then barely lasted a month, especially when she had to fund her web novel addiction and indulge in cute trinkets she just had to buy.
Crocheting had been a tedious skill to learn—one that required maddening amounts of patience. But for money? Yuna could endure anything.
And for the sake of reading novels? She would conquer mountains.
Unfortunately, in this fantasy world she now inhabited, she had yet to find a single novel that matched her tastes. Everything she came across was either painfully tacky or mediocre at best. Truly, what a pitiful, suffering existence.
For the hundredth time, Yuna wondered if she should just write a novel herself. Maybe publish it, let it spread, and hopefully inspire others to write books that actually appealed to her preferences.
Maybe then—just maybe—this world would finally produce stories worth reading.