At this moment, on the rooftop of the second floor of the main teaching building—
"Well, well, well... if it isn't Her Highness the princess, all proud and mighty just yesterday. What's she doing all alone today?"
A deliberately mocking voice rang out.
Hysteria's brows drew together as she turned her head. From the rooftop entrance, two male students and one female were approaching.
Their outfits were standard Eden uniforms, but the details revealed a very different story. Gold collar pins peeking out from under their jackets, finely engraved buttons at the cuffs—everything about them screamed old money.
But so what?
No matter how impressive they look, none of them outshine me. Except maybe that annoying Linen.
Expressionless, Hysteria opened her lips ever so slightly. Her words, however, were ice-cold.
"Move. I won't say it again."
It had to be said—Hysteria was a petite girl. And today, to match the academy uniform's aesthetic, she'd styled her hair into playful twin tails. Compared to the sleek, black-stockinged, silk-gowned little princess from the day before, she looked like a completely different person.
But when she got serious, that innate nobility—the bone-deep pressure of someone born to command—was impossible to ignore.
The two on either side of the lead boy hesitated, but the one in the middle simply gave a casual smile.
"No need to get so tense, Princess Hysteria. We're just here to talk."
"I don't talk to small fry."
In a flash, the atmosphere froze solid.
Some people are just naturally good at killing a conversation. Hysteria was one of them—effortlessly so. And when she did put effort into it? She could nuke a social interaction in seconds.
The boy's smile stiffened, his face darkening. But he forced himself to press on:
"Your Highness, surely you've heard of my father—the Duke of the Northern Territories, Draco Os of the Zijinghua Empire. I'm his eldest son, Farao Os."
"Northern Duke... yeah, I've heard of that title."
Hysteria tapped her chin thoughtfully. She had, in fact, heard the name. In a highly centralized empire like Zijinghua, any non-royal family that had earned a dukedom was no pushover.
More than that, rumor had it the Duke of the North wasn't exactly on cozy terms with the royal family.
Farao's expression began to relax. His companions let out small breaths of relief. If she knew the name, she'd at least take the invitation seriously.
"My father sends his regards, of course. But I'm not here in his name. I came to speak with you as a fellow classmate."
He extended a hand toward her with practiced grace.
"I would like to formally invite you to join my study group. Please consider it carefully, Your Highness."
"Oh, I see…"
A spark of amusement flickered in Hysteria's jewel-bright red eyes.
"So you're trying to poach me?"
"I'd prefer you not phrase it so crudely,"
Farao waggled a finger lightly.
"Think of it more as an alliance."
"You were penalized today too, weren't you? Didn't finish the dissection because of that Linen guy? Same as us."
"My father always says—'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' I believe we could be good friends."
Hysteria folded her arms, pretending to contemplate.
"Hmph. You're quite the silver-tongued little minnow."
She's buying it!
Though Farao kept his face composed, a flicker of triumph flashed in his eyes. His gaze drifted greedily over Hysteria's form—subtle, but unmistakable.
He couldn't deny it. Even with her arms crossed and hiding her chest, Hysteria was breathtaking.
That blazing crimson hair, those gemlike scarlet eyes—and her figure! A waist so narrow it seemed impossible, and those delicate legs wrapped in black stockings, long and slender, seemingly sculpted by the gods.
Just standing next to her would be an honor.
Too bad that idiot Linen Norton had burned that bridge—his loss, Farao's gain.
"But…"
Hysteria rubbed her smooth chin, voice trailing.
"But what?" Farao asked eagerly.
"I refuse."
Her voice dropped like ice. Her eyes turned razor-sharp.
Hysteria might be famous for killing conversation, but if she was even better at something—it was going on the offensive.
"I, Hysteria, most enjoy saying 'no' to people who think too highly of themselves."
"My father once said—people who name-drop their daddy in every sentence are worse than bottom-feeders. They're vermin. Not even worthy of being called trash."
"Move aside now, and I'll pretend none of this ever happened."
"You—!"
Rage surged in Farao's eyes.
She's seriously not giving me any face!
There was no way he could let this go. If he backed down now, it would be like admitting he was the bug she said he was.
But then he caught a glimmer of amusement in Hysteria's gaze—and realized something was off.
She's doing this on purpose.
She was deliberately provoking them.
Because once the talking died, next came the fighting.
And once it came to that? None of the three stood a chance against Hysteria, the flame-wielding prodigy who was anything but ordinary.
A flicker of crimson Arcane light flared in her palm.
Shit!
Farao felt a jolt of dread. She may have looked petite and harmless, but this girl was a legitimate One-Ring Arcane Mage—a genius.
But just as quickly, the flame sputtered out with a feeble pop.
"Damn it. There's an anti-magic seal up here? Even on the rooftop?!"
Panic flickered in Hysteria's eyes.
For all her usual arrogance and pride, at the end of the day she was still a fifteen-year-old girl.
Farao and his lackeys caught the shift in her expression—and suddenly, they felt bold again.
If they'd been facing Hysteria the Arcane Mage, they wouldn't dare touch her. But Hysteria without magic?
She was just a pretty little girl.
Besides, the rooftop had enchantments preventing spellcasting. And she was petite. Fragile, even.
This was Zijinghua territory. Who said the Duke's son was any less noble than a foreign princess?
If she couldn't use magic, how could three guys lose to one girl?
No way.
Time to teach this uppity little brat where she stood.
"Your Highness, there's still time before class. Why don't we talk a little longer?"
At Farao's signal, one of his companions headed for the rooftop door—to lock it.
"Damn it..."
Hysteria instinctively took a step back.
Half from the danger in front of her, and half from her own conflicted thoughts.
Because for just a moment—she had actually wished Linen were here.
She immediately felt bitterly self-deprecating.
Why would he help me? We're like fire and oil. I just insulted him earlier. He has no reason to save me.
Besides, the only one he wants to protect… is Elena. What does that have to do with me?
With a stubborn breath, she stepped forward again, defiance blazing in her eyes.
The air on the rooftop turned to ice.
And then—a voice spoke from behind her:
"My, my. Quite the party up here. Seems like there's been some kind of misunderstanding with my teammate."
Without anyone noticing, Linen had appeared behind Hysteria. He stepped forward, shielding her behind his back.
"You… what are you doing here?"
Hysteria's voice trembled. She was clearly flustered.
Linen didn't turn around. His gaze locked coldly onto Farao.
"Why? Because the only one allowed to be rejected by her… is me."
And definitely not some bleach-blond bottom-feeder like you.