Stealing the jewelry was a terrible idea.

  The risk was entirely disproportionate to the reward. Especially when the targets were a duke's son and the Crown Princess of the Kingdom. If I was caught pickpocketing the Royal Heir, the Academy wouldn't just expel me; they would probably execute me.

  But physically stealing the items wasn't actually necessary. I just needed to copy their structural composition via direct physical contact.

  I had compiled my target list: Finn's signet ring (a highly heat-resistant gold alloy). Siren and Tara's swords (cold-forged steel-carbon). Elinia's necklace (stellar silver heavily alloyed with tungsten). Elinia's earrings (rare lunar platinum).

  My plan was elegantly simple: initiate short, "friendly" training duels. Physical contact during a spar wouldn't raise any suspicions. Everyone in the Elite Class was constantly training anyway.

  I decided to start with the easiest target.

  Target 1: Finn Rainford

  I approached Finn while he was, as usual, loudly boasting about his fiery broadsword to anyone who would listen.

  "Finn," I called out. "Do you want to run a quick hand-to-hand spar?"

  He paused, blinking in genuine surprise before bursting into laughter. "YOU? Hand-to-hand combat? Alright, sure. Show me what you've got, icicle."

  I nodded, stepping onto the training mat. I didn't need to win. I just needed to touch his ring.

  The instructor casually waved his hand. "Begin."

  Surprisingly, Finn immediately backed away, maintaining a strict distance. He knew he was relatively weak in close-quarters brawling, so he kept retreating, throwing wide, flashy arcs of fire to keep me at bay. He was essentially turning the spar into a circus act.

  I had to play the part of the pathetic, struggling mage, stumbling around and pretending I couldn't break through his fiery defense.

  I bided my time until I finally saw an opening.

  "NOW FOR MY SIGNATURE MOVE!" Finn howled, leaping into the air. He spun violently, attempting to create a descending tornado of fire.

  The rest of the class watched in mild awe.

  Perfect, I thought.

  The moment his boots hit the floor, I lunged forward and intentionally, clumsily crashed directly into him.

  We both went tumbling to the dusty stone floor in a tangled heap. It was painful, undignified, and embarrassing.

  But my bare hand was planted firmly over his right fist.

  Contact established.

  I flooded my mana into the metal of his ring, instantly mapping its molecular structure. An excellent thermal conductor. An alloy of pure gold and enchanted iron. Ah... and trace amounts of pulverized tungsten dust folded into the metal lattice to allow it to withstand extreme temperatures without melting.

  I had everything I needed.

  Just then, Finn panicked and instinctively elbowed me hard in the solar plexus.

  "UGH!!" I gasped, violently doubling over and putting on an Oscar-worthy performance of a man struggling to breathe.

  Finn scrambled backward, looking horrified. "Oh... crap... are you okay?!"

  He rushed over and hauled me to my feet, offering an apologetic, sheepish grin. "You know... you actually surprised me. You're a lot stronger physically than you look. Especially since I've literally never seen you lift a weight."

  I wheezed, offering a weak smile. "I guess... I'm just naturally sturdy."

  He laughed, slapping my shoulder. "Naturally? Your nature is weird, Zen."

  Targets 2 & 3: The Walter Twins

  Touching the swordsmen's metal turned out to be even easier than Finn's. Almost too easy.

  I stepped onto the arena against Siren. He was, as always, perfectly polite, calm, and utterly fearless.

  "Ready?" he asked respectfully.

  "I'll try my best," I replied. Internally, my only thought was: Just let the blade graze your skin.

  The instructor signaled the start. Siren attacked smoothly and precisely. He clearly had no intention of maiming me; he was just testing my defensive reflexes.

  I deliberately took a step back just a fraction of a second too slowly. I allowed his blade to slip past my guard and lightly tap my shoulder.

  Contact established.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I felt the structure of his sword instantly. Cold-forged steel-carbon. Quenched under immensely high atmospheric pressure. Perfectly balanced.

  The moment the blade touched me, I threw myself backward and landed flat on my back. "I surrender!" I declared loudly.

  Siren lowered his sword, looking genuinely bewildered. "You... give up far too quickly. And your movements are very strange. It was almost as if you intentionally walked into my blade."

  "You're just... really fast," I panted, avoiding his gaze.

  He frowned deeply, his analytical mind clearly working overtime, but he didn't press the issue.

  My duel with Tara was identical. She was essentially a mirror image of her brother, just slightly more rigid.

  I executed the exact same strategy: a clumsy sidestep, a fake lunge, an intentional stumble, and a light graze of her blade against my forearm.

  "Ouch!!" I yelped, dropping to one knee.

  Tara lowered her sword, her expression flat. "This is... weird. You surrender faster than the first-year novices in the standard classes."

  I rubbed my arm, looking thoroughly ashamed. "Sorry... my stamina is just really bad..."

  She gave me a long, suspicious look before sheathing her sword and walking away.

  Two more metals copied successfully.

  Now, only the hardest target remained: Princess Elinia Laurel.

  The Problem Named Elinia

  I agonized over it for the rest of the day.

  How was I supposed to touch her necklace? Or her earrings? The earrings were dangerously close to her face—reaching for them mid-combat would look incredibly suspicious. The necklace rested against her collarbone and was undoubtedly protected by multiple automatic warding spells.

  And to make matters worse... I noticed her watching me.

  Every single time I glanced up, Elinia was sitting at her desk, "casually" looking in my direction. There was no hostility in her gaze. Only heavy, intense expectation.

  Her eyes were practically screaming: Well? You've dueled everyone else today. Are you going to challenge me, or are you too scared?

  A cold sweat broke out on my neck.

  This is terrible. She actively wants a fight. If I don't challenge her, she'll think I'm avoiding her. If I do challenge her, I might accidentally reveal too much trying to get past her defenses.

  Her gaze only grew more intense. She crossed her arms. Raised a single, elegant eyebrow. Tilted her head slightly.

  Finally, she walked past my desk.

  "Helvard," she murmured, her voice so quiet only I could hear it. "You have challenged nearly everyone in this room today. But not me. Why?"

  I nearly jumped out of my chair as if it had caught fire. "I... uh... I just haven't gotten around to it yet."

  She smiled. It was a dangerous, breathtakingly beautiful, and deeply satisfied smile.

  "I await your challenge," the Princess said softly. "Do not keep me waiting long."

  She turned and walked away.

  I swallowed hard. Alright. She wants a challenge? I'll give her a challenge. And I will touch that damn necklace even if I have to die for science to do it... though preferably, I'd like to survive.

  The Untouchable Princess

  That evening, the training hall was completely empty. Except for her.

  Elinia was standing by the massive arched windows, bathed in the pale moonlight, clearly waiting for me.

  I walked onto the floor. "Elinia Laurel. I challenge you. Swords and magic allowed, but no lethal techniques."

  She turned around slowly. She smiled as if I had just confessed my undying love to her.

  "Show me your true strength, Helvard."

  If only she knew I literally just wanted to grope her jewelry, I thought miserably.

  The duel began.

  I immediately launched a highly convincing, aggressive assault. A dash—a strike—a feint—a sudden transition into a low, sweeping lunge.

  She... evaded it. Effortlessly. Almost lazily.

  It was as if she had memorized my entire trajectory before I even moved. And worst of all, I couldn't get anywhere near her. Her earrings and necklace were right there, glinting in the moonlight, but they felt miles out of reach.

  A minute passed. Then five. Then ten. Then fifteen.

  For twenty agonizing minutes, I desperately searched for a single, microscopic opening to brush my fingers against her metal—but Elinia was just playing with me.

  Yes, playing.

  She was smiling. She danced around my strikes like a ghost. She watched my eyes, her expression clearly saying: You're trying to touch me? Ha. Keep trying.

  She blocked every single one of my movements at the absolute last possible millisecond, her blade stopping barely an inch from mine. The hem of her dress barely fluttered. Her breathing remained perfectly even.

  Meanwhile, I was drenched in sweat, actually exhausted from trying to maintain the facade of a struggling swordsman while simultaneously executing high-level tactical feints.

  I was starting to get genuinely angry.

  I could have defeated her in a fraction of a second. But because of this idiotic scientific espionage plan, I had to look weak, look tired, look incompetent, AND somehow manage to touch a highly defensive Archmage-tier Princess.

  It was pure psychological torture.

  I accelerated. I abandoned the "exhausted student" act and conjured a massive, frictionless sheet of ice across the floor to ruin her footing.

  She didn't even slow down. She gracefully skated across the ice as if she weighed less than the air itself.

  Frustrated, I summoned a swirling vortex of jagged icicles and sent them tearing toward her.

  She scoffed. "Seriously, Zen? Is that it?"

  She teleported—a short, rapid spatial jump—appearing directly behind me. With a casual wave of her hand and a sickening CRUNCH, she shattered my incoming ice projectiles.

  She giggled quietly. "You're getting sloppy, Helvard."

  I AM LITERALLY JUST TRYING TO TOUCH YOUR NECKLACE!!! I screamed internally.

  The minutes dragged on. My carefully constructed mask of the "average, struggling student" finally began to crack under the sheer weight of my irritation.

  And she noticed.

  "Are you... actually angry?" Elinia asked, her eyes widening in genuine surprise.

  It was the very first time she had ever seen me lose my temper.

  "I'm..." I exhaled sharply, gritting my teeth. "I'm just tired."

  She smiled, clearly deriving immense, sadistic pleasure from my frustration.

  I decided to risk it all on one final exchange.

  I rapidly conjured three dense walls of solid ice between us. As she shattered the third wall, she struck my sword—hard. So hard that I intentionally let the blade fly out of my hand.

  This was the opening.

  I unleashed a chaotic, desperate swarm of ice spheres directly at her face, acting like a panicked mage making a last stand.

  For a fraction of a second, she was startled. She raised her arms to block.

  This is it.

  Her earrings were right in front of me. I lunged forward, extending my bare hand, pretending to reach for her shoulder to unbalance her.

  My fingertips were millimeters away from the lunar platinum. Just a hair's breadth away.

  She tilted her head.

  She smiled.

  And with a single, weightless, elegant step, she drifted backward, completely out of my reach.

  "That's enough," she said, lowering her sword. "I'm tired."

  And just like that... she ended the duel. On her own terms. No final strike. No dramatic victory. She simply decided we were done.

  She walked past me toward the exit. As she passed, she looked up into my eyes and whispered softly, "That is the very first time I have ever seen you truly angry."

  She walked out of the hall, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

  I stood frozen in the center of the arena, my hands clenched into tight fists.

  HOW IN THE NINE HELLS, I fumed, IS IT PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE TO DODGE SO PERFECTLY AT THE VERY LAST MILLISECOND?!