This episode contains violence, strong language, and scenes that may be disturbing to some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.
The female student, whose arm was still gripped by Margaret, immediately pushed herself away.
She began violently shaking her wrist repeatedly. Her movements were fast, almost frantic, like someone trying to shake off a lingering touch that was sticking to her skin and refused to leave.
The area on her arm that Margaret had gripped was flushed red and seemed to pulse, leaving a warmth-induced stain that felt too close.
Her gaze plummeted towards Margaret, stabbing her like shards of glass thrown without warning. Beneath that look, something trembled—not a single emotion, but a barrage of feelings fighting to get out: disgust, rejection, and an anger that was still searching for its form.
"What did you think you were doing, huh?!"
"What was your problem?!"
"Did you think you could just touch someone like that?!"
Her words slid out sharply, full of suppressed fury wrapped in a thin layer of bluster.
Margaret's gaze instantly shifted.
She looked at the female student beside her—her face heated up like a flame fanned by wind, her cheeks ablaze with the emotion that had just been ignited. Then, her gaze fell to a small plastic strand attached to the student's uniform—a name tag that reflected the remaining light under the dense trees.
"Veriza Nadem?"
"I'm not sure... but I've never met anyone with a name like that in my class."
Her gaze returned to trace the face of the girl with shoulder-length black hair, slowly, like someone reading an old sheet of notes she might have seen but forgotten.
Her eyes moved along the lines of the face, tracing the curves of the eyes that held annoyance, the bridge of the nose that was stiff with suppressed anger, and finally, the neatly formed lips—which were now hardened by offense.
"Is she from another class? I suppose so."
"From her face, she seems to be around the same age as me. That means she must be in the same grade, the third-year batch."
But her gaze slipped slightly, then stopped at something in the girl's other hand.
A quarter-piece of a sandwich hung there—its spread was messy, the filling had spilled out like thread unraveling from a knitted cloth, and some parts had already landed on the ground, becoming scattered, shapeless fragments.
"Just because of a sandwich, she even did something that she shouldn't have done... and went that far?"
"Is she truly human... or a demon disguised as a person?"
Slowly, she looked up again.
Her gaze fixed straight onto the two eyes that belonged to Veriza Nadem.
Veriza felt the pause stretching longer than she had expected.
Margaret remained silent, her sharp, piercing gaze seemed to bore through Veriza's skin, tracing every small movement without mercy. The longer the silence lasted, the more uneasy and uncomfortable Veriza felt, as if something was pressing her from within, demanding that she move, that she do something.
"Aren't you just as disrespectful as some pervert man out there?"
The sentence finally came out of her lips.
"Staring at someone with such a sharp gaze... unable to even look away after touching her carelessly. Do you have some kind of disorder that forces you to be attracted to other girls?"
"You really don't have a single word to say as an apology... or anything that shows even a little humility, huh?"
Veriza said this while looking at Margaret from head to toe—a gaze that did not give an inch of respect.
There was a soft but cruel rejection in the way she moved her eyes, as if Margaret was not the person standing in front of her, but an unimportant shadow that could be ignored at any moment.
Margaret did not flinch one bit at the accusations hurled at her. Instead of flushing or taking a step back, she merely raised one eyebrow.
"Are you not aware of what you just did to that poor puppy?"
Margaret's voice slid out flatly.
"Was that sandwich so valuable to you that you didn't want to share it with another creature that needed it more than you—that creature was starving, and it couldn't buy it at the nearest store because it's an animal that doesn't even understand what money is or how to buy things?"
"Was the price of that bread not very cheap?"
"Was it a limited edition, so you felt you would miss out if you didn't get it?"
"Couldn't you just wait for them to open orders again, on the same day or the same week, rather than using the tip of your shoe to threaten a starving puppy?"
"You could also just make that sandwich yourself at home. Isn't it so easy to make? Or is it that you truly can't, so what you're eating right now is something you'll never be able to get back?"
She uttered all her words in one long breath, her tone remaining flat, as if no emotion showed on the surface, yet every sentence carved an undeniable pressure.
She did not even care about the implied meaning behind her words; her lips moved faster than her mind, throwing out sentence after sentence without a pause.
Before the two other female students could interrupt or mediate the situation that was beginning to heat up, she took another breath. Once again, her lips moved, releasing another sentence, with the exact same tone: flat, firm, and unwavering.
"You said I was like a pervert man?"
"Aren't you actually the pervert man yourself, making statements carelessly to beautify your own self-esteem and cleanse yourself from all accusations—just like a pervert man who only satisfies himself without caring that the woman they defile also has a future?"
The air around them felt like it shrunk, narrowing, as if it was watching every single word born from Margaret's lips.
She took a breath once more—slowly, deeply, controlled—then completed her sentence with the precision of a sculptor etching the final line onto a stone carving.
"And furthermore, if I really did have the disorder you mentioned, I would hope I wouldn't like a girl like you."
"I would also hope I never met you—neither now nor in the future—because meeting you is a sin I should have avoided."
A soft exhale closed all her remarks, as if marking the end of the long and forceful stream of words.
Her gaze remained lit with a quiet firmness—a kind of honesty that was not intending to hurt, but also gave no room for anyone to underestimate her again.