Diana lifted a hand to her lips and coughed softly, almost restrained, as though she were trying very hard not to disturb anyone.
"Mira," she called gently. Her voice was tender, barely above a breath.
The girl who had first confronted Scarlett, but still wore a sharp scowl, clearly prepared to argue further. But at the sound of Diana's voice, she immediately turned, her hostility melting into concern.
"I told you not to go to her," Diana continued, her tone warm and chiding, as though scolding a beloved younger sister rather than issuing a command. She coughed again, her shoulders trembling faintly as though the effort of speaking alone drained her strength.
"She was here before us," Diana added, offering a soft, luminous smile. "So it's perfectly fine for her to sit."
She reached for Stella's hand, the other girl at her side and squeezed it lightly, as though steadying herself.
"I may have a weak constitution," she went on gently, lowering her lashes in modesty, "but I am not so fragile that I cannot stand for a while. I can wait for the coordinators."
Another cough interrupted her. This one lingered, thin and breathless.
"And besides," she added with faint self-deprecation, "it is never a pleasant thing to be too well known when one is ill. I am almost relieved that this young lady does not recognize me."
Her gaze shifted toward Scarlett then, there was a soft smile on her lips.
Gracious and angelically forgiving.
"I am very happy about that," she concluded, patting Stella's hand lightly.
Then she began coughing in earnest.
This time it was violent.
Her entire frame shook, the sound raw and strained, as though her lungs were tearing from within. The shift was so sudden that it drew immediate alarm. Her followers rushed forward at once.
"Miss Diana!"
"Water quickly!"
"Move aside!"
The crowd parted instinctively out of collective panic. In the shuffle, Scarlett was unceremoniously pushed backward, squeezed out of the small pocket of space she had occupied.
A seat was cleared at once.
Diana was guided into it with utmost care.
Someone pressed a water flask into her hands. Another produced a small case of medicine. A young man knelt beside her, his voice thick with concern.
"Miss Diana, please calm down… take your pills first."
Stella rubbed her back gently while holding the container steady as Diana swallowed the medication with trembling fingers.
The entire scene unfolded like practiced choreography.
A fragile saint surrounded by loyal protectors and at the center of it all, A pale, Diana, breathing shallowly.
Whispers began almost immediately.
"Some people are truly heartless," someone muttered.
"Who doesn't know Miss Diana has a weak constitution?"
A snort followed.
"Everyone knows. Some people just lack basic decency. Even if you don't know, you should have the awareness to pretend."
A few nods.
"Can she even pretend?" another voice added mockingly. "She looks like she spends her days in front of a mirror instead of training."
A small ripple of laughter.
"Maybe she thinks she can defeat beasts with her face."
More laughter.
Scarlett stood where she had been pushed, expression unchanged, her eyes were calm.
She studied Diana quietly.
Moments ago, the girl had looked radiant, Composed, almost glowing beneath the attention of her entourage. Now she appeared frail, nearly translucent as though she might collapse at any moment.
Scarlett tilted her head slightly.
If you are truly that ill, she thought coolly, why come here at all? This examinations were not tea gatherings. The beasts would not hand over their cores out of sympathy.
Children these days are dramatic.
Her gaze lingered on Diana a little longer.
There was sickness there, yes, but it seemed timed, really a Perfect timing.
"See what you've caused!"
Mira's voice cut sharply through the murmurs. She stepped forward again, righteous indignation blazing in her eyes.
"That seat was arranged for Miss Diana by the coordinator because of her constitution," she declared loudly enough for half the hall to hear. "But you rushed ahead and took it."
Scarlett blinked once.
Rushed?
She had been sitting there long before they arrived.
"And when I came to speak with you," Mira pressed on, "you even asked why you should move. Miss Diana was standing right in front of you, looking so weak, and you still refused."
Gasps.
Head shakes.
"If that isn't heartless, I don't know what is."
"It's alright, Mira," Diana interrupted softly, reaching for her friend's wrist.
Her voice was faint.
"She did not know I am unwell."
The words were gentle and forgiving.
But they fell into the crowd like oil on fire.
Diana looked up at Scarlett then, her face pale from coughing, eyes slightly glassy as though on the verge of tears.
"I am sorry about my friends," she said kindly. "They worry too much."
A pause.
"They are simply protective."
There was no accusation in her tone.
None at all.
And yet Scarlett could feel the atmosphere solidifying around her.
The narrative had already been written.
Was Diana truly sick?
She replayed the earlier moments in her mind. When she first appeared, she had looked perfectly composed, radiant even.
Had the cough been triggered suddenly?
Or had it waited?
Scarlett examined her more closely now.
The pallor was convincing.
The trembling hands believable.
The breath shallow.
If it was an act, it was flawless.
If it was real…
Then it was unfortunate.
But still not her fault.
She had not known who Diana was.
No one had informed her the seat was reserved.
She had not been told of any arrangement.
How was she meant to read what was never spoken?
Yet the more she remained silent, the guiltier she appeared.
The more composed she stood, the colder she seemed.
And Diana?
Diana looked at her again.
Soft.
Forgiving.
Almost grateful.
As though she were absolving Scarlett of a sin Scarlett did not know she had committed.
It was masterful.
Not a single harsh word.
Not a single open accusation.
Only gentleness.
And somehow, that gentleness had turned the entire hall against her who was just sitting quietly.
Scarlett look at Diana carefully this time, but there was no memory of ever meeting her talk more of offending her, so she doesn't understand where this calculated dislike is coming from