Just as Yvonne rendered everyone speechless, the grand hall doors swung open.
A middle-aged man, smartly dressed in a well-tailored suit, walked in with an aura of authority that instantly silenced the room.
His presence alone carried weight. Behind him came Miss Olivia, Lord Thomas, and three other unfamiliar figures whose rigid expressions made Yvonne chest tighten slightly.
The moment the students recognized the school dean, chaos dissolved into order.
Conversations died abruptly. Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone hurried back to their seats.
Yvonne noticed Cassandra clenching her fists as she sat down. Even from where she stood, Yvonne could feel the fury rolling off Cassandra in waves.
Meanwhile, Cassandra was lost in denial battle. She refused to believe that Eric and Alessandra were lovers.
No. Alessandra had nothing to make Eric hers. Nothing at all.
Beauty? Impossible. Cassandra beloved she was far more beautiful. Eric was not the kind of man who could be easily seduced—certainly not by Alessandra. Then how did Eric fall for her? That question tormented Cassandra, and the more she thought about it, the more enraged she became.
While Cassandra was drowning in her thoughts, Yvonne was fighting a completely different battle.
Hunger.
Her stomach growled painfully as she pressed a hand against it. She hadn't been given any food when she arrived at the dining hall earlier. They had told her breakfast time was over and that she would have to wait until lunch. The academy ran on strict schedules, and mercy wasn't part of their system.
Naomi and Yvonne had even asked for leftovers.
They refused.
Students must be punctual.
Damn punctuality.
Actually, Yvonne wasn't truly hungry at first. She could endure hunger. She always did. But after the encounter with Cassandra—after the frustration, the tension, the humiliation—it became unbearable.
Yvonne could tolerate hunger.
But not when she was angry.
"Alessandra Questerie."
Yvonne looked up sharply at the sound of her name and stood without thinking. Her heart skipped as she glanced around and noticed a few others rising too—Kaylyn, Bianca, Lilith.
Unease crept into her chest.
"Cassandra Questerie and Eric Dela."
Yvonne brows furrowed.
So it was about earlier.
Were they calling them out to reprimand about the rumor? But that would only require Eric and her. Then… it had to be about what just happened.
"All of you standing—step outside."
They obeyed.
As they all walked out, Yvonne braced herself for scolding words, sharp accusations, and public humiliation. Her shoulders tensed, preparing for the worst.
But instead—
Applause.
Loud, deliberate applause echoed through the hall.
Yvonne froze.
Her eyes widened as she stared ahead, completely dumbfounded.
Were they not called out to be reprimanded?
"Let us welcome our new Order Of The White Flame!" the dean announced proudly.
"Our future protectors. Our nation's saviors—those who will risk their lives so that we may live in peace."
Yvonne face darkened instantly.
Order Of The White Flame?!
This had to be a joke.
No… it has to be.
Yvonne chest tightened as reality began to sink in.
The Order Of The White Flame was no ordinary unit. They were elite soldiers trained to fight the most dangerous battles—missions involving the darkest and most powerful beings. Battles where victory was uncertain and survival even more so.
The chances of winning were thin.
Terrifyingly thin.
Before anyone could even be selected, they had to undergo brutal tests held in the capital—tests that gathered students from across the kingdom and filtered out all but the strongest. Even passing didn't guarantee survival. The real missions were far deadlier.
Yet many elite families pushed their children forward anyway.
Power. Reputation. Status.
Few returned.
Those who did became legends.
But all Yvonne could see was death.
She wasn't an elite child. She never had been. Her presence in this academy was already a mistake—an unanswered mystery. How could she afford to make another one? Why does she seemed to be jumping from pan into fire every single moment?
No.
Absolutely not.
"…Alessandra."
A gentle tap on her shoulder snapped Yvonne out of her thoughts. She turned to see a brown-haired girl with soft features and cautious eyes.
"Let's go," she said quietly.
Yvonne followed her gaze.
At the front of the hall were separate seats—beautifully prepared, polished, and marked clearly for the Order Of The White Flame students.
Her stomach sank.
They looked less like honored seats and more like decorated coffins.
Why would they choose Alessandra?
Wasn't the Order Of The White Flame supposed to consist of powerful individuals?
Why choose the powerless one?
Yvonne raised a hand to her head as a sharp headache bloomed. Discovering Alessandra had no Ember was already overwhelming. This—this was something else entirely.
With a heavy sigh, She sat down in the third chair of the front row.
Eric sat beside her.
Cassandra sat on the other end.
Three chairs per row.
Eric in the middle.
Yvonne turned her head—
And met Eric's gaze.
His eyes were deep, dark, and unreadable. A mix of black and gray that pulled her in before she could stop herself. For a moment, everything else faded.
How could someone have such mysterious eyes?
At the same time, Eric stared back, equally stunned. His gaze sharpened.
Alessandra eyes was surprisingly mesmerizing —deep blue like the sea, threaded faintly with green—reflected something he had never noticed before. The green was subtle, almost hidden, only visible if one looked closely.
When does Alessandra possess such eyes or had he ever truly looked at her before?
The hall vanished.
They were completely unaware of their surroundings.
Unaware of the whispers.
Unaware of the stares.
At the far end, Cassandra was boiling with rage.
Kaylyn watched quietly, eyes flicking between Eric and Alessandra, suspicion beginning to stir.
Miss Olivia and Lord Thomas exchanged speechless glances.
They had just warned this kids not to behave imprudently within school grounds—and now, right in front of the dean?
Unbelievable.
And yet—
Neither of them noticed.