Free Web NovelChapter 80: FIVE HUNDRED GOLD COINS AND A REASON TO GAMBLE
After that commotion at the training grounds, everyone returned to their respective practices or lessons.
At least, that was what Instructor Gord ordered.
He had said it in that firm, unquestionable tone of his—"Continue your classes. Don’t mind what happened." As if what we’d just witnessed was nothing more than a minor inconvenience, a brief disruption in the academy’s perfectly ordered routine.
But for my class, it wasn’t that easy.
The air itself felt heavier as we regrouped, the usual clatter of wooden swords and shouted drills replaced by an uneasy silence. Even when people moved, it was sluggish, half-hearted, like everyone was dragging an invisible weight behind them. No one laughed. No one joked. No one pretended this was just another ordinary training day.
Beric’s face—twisted in panic and despair as he was dragged toward the correction facility—refused to leave my mind. Every time I blinked, I saw it again: his hands clawing at the ground, his voice breaking as he called out names that no longer mattered. I wasn’t the only one either. I could tell just by looking around that my classmates were haunted by the same image, their gazes distant, their movements stiff.
Some tried to swing their swords, but their grips were loose. Others simply stood there, staring at nothing, as if their bodies had shown up but their minds were still stuck back there on the training grounds.
And then there was Nyrinn.
She hadn’t stopped crying.
Her shoulders trembled as she sat on the edge of the field, green hair disheveled and clinging to her tear-streaked face. No matter how many times she wiped her eyes, the tears kept coming, falling onto the dirt beneath her. Beric wasn’t just a classmate to her. He was her friend and now he was locked away because of something that spiraled far beyond anyone’s control.
"It was supposed to be me..." she sobbed, her voice breaking apart with every word.
I stood a short distance away, listening without interrupting. There was nothing I could say that would make this better.
"It’s because of me that Beric is going to the battlefield," she continued, clutching her chest as if the guilt physically hurt. "Alad wanted to talk to me tonight. He told me to meet him alone, and I—I didn’t know what to do."
Her breathing became uneven, each inhale shaky. "But Beric sensed something was wrong. He came right away and interrupted us. That just... that just fueled Alad’s anger. He challenged Beric to train with him, and after that..." Her voice cracked completely. "The rest is history."
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Nearby, Famir stood silently, his head lowered. His expression was twisted in frustration, his brows furrowed so deeply they looked painful. His fists were clenched so tight that thin lines of blood trickled from his palms where his nails dug into his skin. He’d seen everything. He’d wanted to step in.
But he couldn’t.
None of us could.
That helplessness—the knowledge that we were too weak, too low in the hierarchy to do anything—gnawed at me worse than anger ever could.
"Everyone, first year of this class, gather up!"
The sudden voice cut through the tension like a blade.
We all turned toward the source. Standing there with an easy grin and relaxed posture was Hans—the so-called Joker of Drei Academy. Under different circumstances, his presence alone would’ve lightened the mood. Today, even his smile felt out of place.
"Since Alad is suspended for today because of what happened earlier," Hans continued casually, as if he were announcing a schedule change, "I’ll be your temporary head instructor. My classmates here will help out too."
A few older students stepped forward, nodding in agreement. The class murmured softly, but no one objected. At this point, no one had the energy to argue.
Hans scanned the group, his eyes moving slowly from face to face.
Then they stopped on me.
Our eyes met.
I didn’t wait for him to say anything.
Before he could even open his mouth, I turned and walked away.
Just like Alad, I was suspended for today. Unlike him, I didn’t feel any satisfaction in it. Between the earlier incident and the injuries I’d taken on the fighting grounds, I was officially excused from training anyway. Staying would’ve been pointless.
As I left the training grounds, I felt eyes on my back. Some of my classmates watched me go—some with sympathy, some with unreadable expressions. Hans didn’t stop me. He simply shrugged and continued giving instructions, his voice already shifting back into that light, joking tone of his.
The moment I passed through the gates and the noise of the training grounds faded behind me, everything finally sank in.
The academy paths were quieter here, lined with tall stone walls and trees that cast long shadows under the afternoon sun. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the ground itself was resisting me.
Alad won again.
That bitter truth clawed its way into my chest, refusing to be ignored. He’d beaten Beric without consequences. He’d framed him flawlessly. He’d walked away with nothing more than a scheduled meeting—a slap on the wrist compared to what Beric was facing.
I hated it.
I hated how powerless I was. I hated how the system favored people like him. And most of all, I hated that familiar feeling creeping back in—the one that whispered no matter how hard I tried, people like Alad would always come out on top.
I needed to accept that truth, even if it burned. If I didn’t, this anger would consume me and fade into something useless, something dull.
But then, another thought surfaced.
I was meeting the principal tomorrow.
That fact alone kept me grounded. No matter how ugly things had gotten, I’d still achieved my original goal—even if the path there was nothing like I’d planned. The meeting wasn’t guaranteed to go my way, but it was an opportunity. One I couldn’t afford to waste.
Tomorrow morning.
Which raised a problem.
Byen.
I slowed my steps, my thoughts sharpening. Byen had clearly been involved—mission complete, he’d said. That meant he knew something. He always did. If anyone understood what was really happening behind the scenes, it was him.
But how was I supposed to reach him now?
The sun dipped lower, casting the academy in shades of gold and shadow. I clenched my fists, resolve hardening in my chest.
I need to know first what the meeting is for.
Since lunchtime was our agreed meeting time, that option was already off the table.
I knew that much the moment the thought crossed my mind. Whatever Byen was planning, it clearly didn’t involve casual encounters or coincidences. If he wanted to meet me, it would be on his terms—and right now, I had no idea how to reach him before tomorrow morning. As I mulled over different possibilities, my feet carried me forward on instinct alone.
It was only when I stopped walking that I realized where I was.
The first-year dorms stood quietly before me, their stone walls bathed in the soft orange glow of the late afternoon sun. Normally, this place was loud at this hour—doors slamming, people shouting greetings down the hallways, laughter spilling out of open windows. Today, it felt subdued, almost somber, as if the dorm itself was holding its breath.
I let out a slow breath and headed toward my room.
The moment I opened the door, something felt... wrong.
There was no laughter.
No shouting.
No pointless banter echoing off the walls.
This room was supposed to be noisy the moment I stepped inside. Raiden’s booming voice, Tyiyn’s sarcastic remarks, Tork’s dumb jokes—those were things I’d come to associate with this place, whether I liked it or not. They were supposed to greet me every time I returned, filling the cramped space with life and irritation in equal measure.
But now?
Nothing.
The room was eerily quiet, the air stale and unmoving. The beds were empty. The desks were untouched. Even the faint smell of sweat and metal that usually lingered after training seemed to have faded.
For the first time since I’d arrived at the academy, I was alone in this room.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, not bothering to turn on the lights. The dim glow leaking in through the window was enough. My body felt heavy, every muscle aching, my head pounding from exhaustion and frustration.
I dropped onto my bed and let myself fall back.
"I’ll rest first," I muttered to the empty room, staring up at the dark ceiling. "I’m tired. I’ll find Byen later—"
"I’m already here."
The voice came from above me.
For half a second, my brain refused to process what I’d just heard.
Then panic kicked in.
I shot up from the bed so fast that I slammed my head straight into the underside of the bunk above me.
"Ouch!" I yelped, clutching my forehead as pain exploded behind my eyes. "Who the hell are you?!"
A shadow shifted.
The figure above me moved with unsettling ease, dropping down from the top bunk and landing silently on the floor in front of me. Even in the dim light, I recognized that calm, unreadable face immediately.
It was Byen.
"Are you serious right now?" I groaned, still rubbing my head. "How did you even get in here?"
"Raiden gave me a duplicate key," he replied flatly. "In case a situation like this happened."
I stared at him.
"...I don’t even know where to start with that," I said after a moment.
Raiden giving someone like Byen a spare key raised far too many questions—questions I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers to. Judging by the way Byen showed zero interest in elaborating, it was clear he felt the same way.
So I let it go.
"For now," I added under my breath.
"So," I said more clearly, straightening up and facing him, "why are you here?"
Byen walked past me without a word and sat down on the bed opposite mine, crossing his arms as if this were the most natural thing in the world. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, observing me with that same unsettling intensity he always carried.
"It’s simple," he said. "You accomplished your mission."
I blinked. "That fast?"
"I didn’t expect you to succeed on the same day I assigned it," he continued, his voice as monotone as ever. "I’m impressed."
Despite his words, his expression didn’t change in the slightest. No smile. No nod of approval. Nothing that matched the praise he was supposedly giving.
"Somehow, that doesn’t sound very convincing," I said dryly.
"That’s your problem," he replied without missing a beat.
I sighed and leaned back against the bedframe. "I was actually planning to look for you later about that," I admitted. "But I guess this saves me the trouble."
He didn’t respond.
Not even a nod.
"Figures," I muttered.
I studied him for a moment, then got straight to the point. "So now that I’ve accomplished it... what’s next?"
Without a word, Byen reached into his coat and tossed something at me.
"Here."
I reacted on instinct, catching the object midair. The moment it landed in my hand, my arm dipped slightly from the weight.
It was a small leather purse.
"Heavy," I muttered, testing it in my palm. Judging by the weight alone, I guessed it might contain around five hundred copper coins—maybe silver if I was being generous.
Then Byen spoke.
"It contains five hundred gold coins," he said calmly. "Use it to get the principal to accept a bet."
The words didn’t register at first.
"...A bet?" I repeated slowly.
Then the rest of the sentence caught up to my brain.
"Wait—five hundred GOLD COINS???" I shouted in disbelief, my voice echoing through the empty dorm room.
Byen, unsurprisingly, didn’t even flinch.
"Yeah, a bet wherein, when I win the swordsmanship tournament, he’ll let Raiden and your friends out and won’t send them to the battlefield. But if I lose, he’ll get the five hundred gold coins," Byen said confidently, as if he were explaining the most natural thing in the world.
For a moment, my mind went completely blank.
The words registered one by one, slowly, painfully, like they were being carved into my skull with a dull blade. A bet. A tournament. Five hundred gold coins. Raiden. The battlefield. All of it collided at once, refusing to arrange itself into anything remotely sensible.
"Wait..." I muttered, my grip tightening around the purse. "...what???"
Byen tilted his head slightly, as if he had anticipated that reaction from the start.
"I’m sorry," he said flatly. "Let me explain from the beginning."
"Yeah," I said, exhaling heavily as I rubbed my temples. "I’d really appreciate that."
He nodded once and leaned back slightly, his eyes half-lidded, as though recounting this plan bored him. "Since you secured the meeting with the principal, the next step is simple. You use the five hundred gold coins to propose a bet. If I win the swordsmanship tournament, the principal releases Raiden and your friends and cancels their assignment to the battlefield. If I lose, he keeps the money."
"...You just repeated what you said earlier," I replied, staring at him. "That’s not what I’m confused about."
"What are you confused about, then?" he asked calmly.
"Why," I said immediately. "Why would this work? Why would he even agree to something like this? You’re talking like it’s guaranteed."
"Because it is," Byen answered without hesitation.
I let out a dry laugh. "You’re seriously telling me the future of my friends depends on a whether the principal would take a gamble on a tournament?"
"Yes."
"That’s insane."
I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was joking. He wasn’t. His face remained unreadable, his tone unchanging.
"If this was your plan from the start," I continued, "then everything that happened today—Beric, Alad, me getting suspended—might’ve been completely pointless."
"It wasn’t," Byen replied. "It was necessary."
"That doesn’t make me feel better," I muttered.
"You don’t believe this will work," he said, not as a question, but a statement.
"Of course I don’t," I snapped. "This plan is absurd. You’re betting everything on the whim of a man who holds absolute authority over this academy."
"Yes."
"...You realize that saying ’yes’ doesn’t magically make it convincing, right?"
Byen’s gaze shifted to the purse in my hands. "You’re thinking emotionally. That’s why you think it’s absurd."
"And you’re thinking like someone who doesn’t care what happens if this fails," I shot back.
"That’s incorrect," he said calmly. "I care about the outcome. I simply don’t let uncertainty cloud my judgment."
I clicked my tongue in frustration. "Then explain it to me properly. How can you be so sure Morris Moon will accept this?"
Byen paused for a moment, as if deciding how much he should reveal.
"It’s because I know him," he said finally. "Better than anyone else here."
That made me frown. "That’s a bold claim."
"Morris Moon values two things above all else," Byen continued, ignoring my comment. "Money and control. Five hundred gold coins is not a small amount. Even for a principal, that sum is difficult to ignore."
I glanced down at the purse again. It felt heavier now—not physically, but mentally. Five hundred gold coins could buy influence. Silence. Lives.
"And the second thing?" I asked.
"Torment," Byen replied flatly. "He enjoys watching people struggle. Especially those he dislikes."
A chill ran down my spine.
"He hates you," Byen went on. "And by extension, he dislikes your friends. Giving him a chance to watch you place your hopes on a tournament—one where he believes you’ll lose—is irresistible to him."
"You’re saying he’ll accept because he’s confident you won’t win," I said slowly.
"Yes."
"And why would he think that?"
"Because from his perspective," Byen said, "I’m just a third-year with the title of Jack, the weakest of the swordsmanship title. In contrast, Hans and Leonardo are monsters in swordsmanship. Either of them winning the tournament is the expected outcome."
I clenched my jaw. "So he gets to humiliate us, keep his authority intact, and possibly earn five hundred gold coins on top of that."
"Correct."
"And you’re okay with that?"
Byen looked at me then—really looked at me. "That’s why it’s a bet," he said. "Because there’s risk."
"On our side," I muttered.
"And on his," Byen countered. "Even if he believes the risk is nonexistent."
Silence fell between us.
I leaned back against the bedframe, staring at the ceiling. The dim light cast long shadows across the room, making it feel smaller, more suffocating. My thoughts were racing, trying to poke holes in his plan, trying to find a flaw big enough to dismiss the whole thing.
But no matter how much I hated it, the logic was there.
Morris Moon was greedy.
Morris Moon was cruel. freewebnøvel.coɱ
Morris Moon would never turn down an opportunity to assert his dominance.
"Still," I said quietly, "this assumes you’ll actually win the tournament."
"I will," Byen replied without hesitation.
"That confidence of yours is terrifying," I muttered. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
"It’s based on calculation," he said. "Not arrogance."
I let out a long sigh and looked back at him. "Let me clear something up first," I said. "Who are you, anyway, to know Morris Moon like that? Are you his secret child or something?"
"Yes, I am. I am his child from another woman," Byen said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion—as if he had just stated an unremarkable fact.
For a second, my brain completely short-circuited.
"...Wait, really?" I blurted out, my eyes widening. I had said it as a joke. A bad one. A desperate attempt to poke holes in his absurd confidence.
But he didn’t laugh. He didn’t deny it.
"That’s right," Byen replied. "And that’s the reason why I hate him so much."
The words hit me harder than any punch Alad had thrown earlier that day.
I took a step back and dropped onto the edge of my bed, the mattress creaking under my weight. My head throbbed—not from the injuries, but from the sheer amount of information crashing into me all at once.
"...Hold on," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "My mind is overwhelmed right now. Give me a minute to think."
"Go ahead," Byen said, taking a seat on the opposite bed. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as if he hadn’t just dropped a revelation that could shatter an entire academy.
I stared at the floor, my thoughts spinning.
The principal. Morris Moon. The man who treated students like disposable tools. The man who sent people to the battlefield with a signature and a smile.
And Byen... was his son?
Everything suddenly clicked into place—his confidence, his insight, his absolute certainty about how the principal would react. This wasn’t guesswork. This was familiarity born from blood.
I inhaled slowly and looked up at him again.
"So," I said carefully, forcing my thoughts into order, "you’re saying Morris Moon is your father. You hate him. That’s why you know him so well. And you plan to use that knowledge to manipulate him into freeing Raiden and my friends. Is that it?"
Byen nodded. "More or less."
"More or less..." I echoed. "You really have a talent for understating things."
He didn’t respond.
The room fell silent again, the kind of silence that pressed down on your chest. Outside, faint noises from the academy drifted in—footsteps, distant chatter, the sound of life continuing as if nothing had happened. As if Beric wasn’t locked away. As if tomorrow wouldn’t decide the fate of several people.
I clenched my fists.
"There’s still something I don’t understand," I said finally.
Byen looked at me, waiting.
"What’s your real goal?" I asked. "Why Raiden? Why go this far to save him?"
This was the question that mattered most.
Everything up until now—his plan, the money, the tournament—could still be explained as convenience or coincidence. But this? This required motive.
"If I’m going to trust you," I continued, my voice low, "then I need the truth."
Byen studied me for a moment, his eyes unreadable.
"It seems you won’t cooperate further unless I answer," he said calmly.
"That’s right."
"...Very well," he said after a pause. "I’ll be honest."
I held my breath.
"It’s true that I want to save Raiden," Byen said. "But that’s not the whole reason."
My heart sank slightly. I had expected as much.
"Raiden is my accomplice," he continued, "in my goal to get revenge on my father."
The word accomplice sent a chill down my spine.
"...Revenge?" I repeated cautiously.
"Yes."
I swallowed. "What kind of revenge are we talking about?"
Byen’s lips curved upward.
Not a small smile. Not a smug grin.
It was wide. Twisted. Completely at odds with the emotionless expression he had worn since the moment I met him.
And that was what terrified me the most.
"What else?" he said softly. "I want to kill him with my own hands."
The air in the room went cold.
I froze, staring at him, my mind screaming at me to say something—anything—but my mouth refused to move. For a split second, I couldn’t even hear my own breathing.
Kill him.
The principal.
Morris Moon.
I had imagined exposing him. Defying him. Maybe even watching him fall from power.
But killing him?
"That’s..." My voice came out hoarse. "...You’re serious."
"Completely," Byen replied, the grin still plastered on his face.
It wasn’t the grin of madness. That was the worst part.
It was calculated. Resolved.
"How long have you been planning this?" I asked quietly.
"Since I was old enough to understand what kind of man he is," Byen answered. "Since I realized my mother’s suffering was nothing more than an inconvenience to him."
I clenched my jaw. "And Raiden?"
"Raiden has his own reasons to hate the academy," Byen said. "Our goals align. I have the information and resources he lacks."
"...So you’re using each other."
"Yes."
"And what about me?" I asked. "Am I just another tool?"
Byen’s smile faded slightly.
"No," he said. "You’re an anomaly."
"That doesn’t make me feel better."
"It should," he replied. "Because anomalies change outcomes."
I looked away, my chest tight. Part of me wanted to stand up, throw the purse back at him, and tell him I wanted nothing to do with murder.
But another part of me—the part still haunted by Beric’s screams, by Nyrinn’s tears, by Raiden and the others being sent to die—couldn’t bring myself to reject him outright.
Morris Moon wasn’t an innocent man.
He was a monster in a position of power.
Still...
"You realize," I said slowly, "that if this goes wrong, everyone involved will be destroyed. You. Raiden. Me. Maybe even more people."
"I’m aware," Byen said. "That’s why I’m prepared."
I exhaled shakily.
This wasn’t just about saving friends anymore.
This was a conspiracy.
A rebellion.
A knife aimed straight at the heart of the academy.
I closed my eyes.
"...You’re insane," I muttered.
"Perhaps," Byen replied calmly. "But insanity is sometimes the only way to change an unjust world."
When I opened my eyes again, he was staring at me, waiting.
Waiting for my answer.
And for the first time since arriving at Drei Academy, I realized something terrifying.
Tomorrow’s meeting with the principal wasn’t just a negotiation.
It was the first move in a war.
