The World Is Mine For The Taking-Chapter 89 - The Sword Festival, Part 3 (5)

Johanne collapsed onto one knee, her sword trembling in her grip as she used it for support. Her other hand clutched at her stomach, fingers digging into the fabric of her uniform as if trying to squeeze the pain out. Beads of sweat trickled down her pale face, her breath ragged, uneven. Even without experiencing it myself, I could tell—this was agony. Her expression twisted in pain, brows furrowed so tightly they nearly touched, her lips slightly parted as soft, shaky breaths escaped.

Her opponent, mid-step, hesitated. His weapon lowered slightly, his expression shifting from focused determination to something else—concern. He stood there, frozen, watching her instead of attacking. It was an odd sight, almost surreal. This wasn't just hesitation—he was genuinely worried. That was the first decent thing I'd seen someone do in this tournament. A moment of genuine sportsmanship in a place where brutality was the only thing that mattered.

But of course, the spectators didn't share the sentiment.

"Come on! Finish him off!"

"What are you standing there for?! Fight!"

A wave of restless boos echoed through the arena, voices filled with disappointment. The crowd didn't care about fairness, honor, or mercy. They just wanted violence—wanted blood.

The referee, standing at the edge of the platform, furrowed his brows and stepped forward. He looked at Johanne, and for once, I saw something other than indifference in his expression. He actually looked worried.

"Are you okay? Can you continue?" His voice wasn't the usual monotone—there was something softer, more cautious in his tone.

Johanne sucked in a sharp breath, her shoulders trembling. "I-I can…" she forced out, even though she was visibly struggling just to stay upright.

Sweat dripped from her forehead, rolling down her temple before falling onto the floor in slow, glistening droplets. Her arms tensed as she gripped the hilt of her sword tighter, her knuckles turning bone-white. Every movement was a battle, every inch she lifted herself an effort against her own body's rebellion. Her teeth clenched so hard I could hear the faint grinding sound from where I stood.

She wobbled, just slightly, but then she found her footing, lifting her chin as she forced herself upright.

Her opponent, however, still didn't move. His blade remained lowered, his brows drawn together in hesitation.

"Are you really fine?" he asked, voice hesitant, unsure. "It's not worth it if you push yourself too much, you know?"

Johanne exhaled, wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist before tightening her stance. "I'm fine," she said, forcing a small smirk. "Don't worry about me."

Admirable? Sure. But smart? Not really. I wanted to step in and stop this already, but Johanne clearly wasn't ready to back down. If I interfered, she'd be instantly disqualified—just like what happened with Titania on the first day when I jumped in to stop her opponent from killing her.

Then it happened.

Johanne's breath hitched, and in the span of a second, her entire body gave out.

Her knees buckled. Her arms, once so tense with determination, slackened. Her sword clattered to the ground with a metallic clang as she crumpled, her unconscious form slumping forward.

The crowd went eerily silent for a moment. Then the announcement came.

"The match is over! The winner is—"

Johanne's opponent didn't even react to the declaration. He just stood there, staring down at her unmoving form, his hands clenched at his sides. He looked… conflicted. Like he couldn't accept this victory. And considering Johanne had been dominating the match earlier, I understood why. This wasn't a win—it was a technicality.

I moved before I could think.

Striding forward, I crouched beside her and slipped an arm under her back, the other beneath her legs. Then, without hesitation, I lifted her into my arms.

Her body was limp, her face still twisted in pain even in unconsciousness. She was lighter than I expected, yet somehow, the weight of her exhaustion, her struggle, pressed against me like something far heavier.

For some reason, I carried her in a princess carry.

Considering she still appeared as a male to everyone else, the sight must have looked strange. But I didn't care.

Because in my eyes, Johanne was exactly as she was meant to be—a woman. And no matter what, that was how I would always see her.

***

"Is it fine to leave him to you?" Tris asked, pausing at the doorway of my dorm room.

When Johanne collapsed, I immediately brought him here since it was closer. Tris had followed behind, hovering like a worried mother hen. Well, considering Johanne was her husband—arranged or not—it made sense for her to be concerned.

Now, Johanne was resting on my bed. Luckily, Yr was with Titania and Trill, so the bed was unoccupied. Tris had stayed for a bit, watching over him in silence, before deciding to leave. She had things to do—some household duties, probably. She said she'd come back with a car to pick Johanne up later. Since she couldn't carry him herself, she figured bringing a butler along would be the best option.

Before leaving, she asked me that question.

"It's fine," I told her with a small smile.

"Thank you." She gave me a brief nod before stepping out and closing the door behind her.

I turned my gaze back to Johanne, watching her peaceful, sleeping face.

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If she ever found out she was actually a woman trapped in that manly body… what would happen to her? How would she take it? What would she do once she knew the truth?

Would she suffer? Would she get angry at the father who turned her into this without her consent? Would she break down, questioning everything about herself?

All of it was possible. But in the end, I wouldn't know for sure. Not yet. There was still no news on who was responsible for changing her gender in the first place.

As those thoughts lingered in my mind, exhaustion suddenly hit me. My body felt heavy, my eyelids drooping. Guess I was more tired than I thought.

I let out a soft sigh, dragging myself to the couch. Without a second thought, I sank into it, closed my eyes, and drifted off.

***

Johanne's POV

I woke up.

At first, my eyes felt unbearably heavy, the world around me hazy. But after a moment, I forced them open completely.

The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. For a second, I panicked—where the hell was I? But then, I noticed the scent lingering on the sheets, and realization clicked.

Leon.

If he was here, then this must be his dorm room. And I was in his bed.

So that's why it smells like him…

It was nice. Warm. Strangely comforting.

I turned my head and spotted him asleep on the couch, his breathing slow and steady.

It was the first time I'd ever seen him like this—so relaxed, so unguarded. Usually, he was sharp, always alert, always aware. But now… he looked so peaceful.

For some reason, I couldn't look away. I was… entranced, maybe?

I sat upright, shaking off the last remnants of drowsiness, then quietly slipped out of bed.

And before I even knew why, I found myself moving toward him.

I looked down at him.

For some reason, my breathing grew heavy, my chest tightening with something unfamiliar. It was strange… inexplicable.

Like a force I couldn't resist, something was pulling me toward him.

Before I even realized it, my lips hovered dangerously close to his. And then… I leaned in further.

Soft.

Warm.

My lips pressed against his, and in that instant—

I snapped.

"Ah…!"

What the hell did I just do?

I kissed him.

What the hell was I thinking?

No… I wasn't thinking. My body had just moved on its own.

My heart pounded as I jerked back, my face burning. Thank god he was still asleep.

If… if he had been awake when I did that, what would he have thought of me? That I was a weirdo?

I was so flustered that, in my panicked state, I suddenly tripped. My hands shot out, trying to steady myself, and for a second, I thought I caught my balance. But something—something felt off.

My body… it felt different.

A strange sensation crawled up my spine, the way I moved, the way I felt—it was all wrong. And before I could process it, my body lost control.

"Agh…!"

I crashed face-first into the floor.

That was embarrassing.

At least Leon didn't wake up—

"Hmm…"

I tensed as he stirred, his sleepy voice rumbling through the room.

"Ah…" I let out a small, pathetic noise, still sprawled awkwardly on the floor. This was bad. This was really bad. First, I kissed him, and now he was going to find me like this? There was no way to explain this.

"Johanne?" His voice was laced with confusion.

I scrambled up, trying to act normal despite the sheer embarrassment burning through me. "Ah—yes. Sorry, I woke you up, Leon."

For some reason, my voice came out softer than usual. Maybe I was too embarrassed. Maybe I was still flustered from… everything.

Leon didn't respond right away. Instead, he just stared at me, brows furrowed, like something was seriously wrong.

"What?" I asked, growing self-conscious under his gaze. "Do I have a bruise on my face or something?"

"Uh…" He hesitated. "You're Johanne… right?"

I blinked.

"Yeah, of course, I am. Why are you asking me that?" I asked, genuinely confused.

He didn't answer. Instead, he pointed toward something.

"The mirror. Look."

I followed his gaze to the small mirror on the wall. It wasn't big—just enough to see my face.

And the moment I did…

A woman stared back at me.