Ling Kwong stood close, jaw clenched, eyes dark with something dangerous. Without a word, she adjusted the blazer around Rhea's shoulders, shielding her, blocking the cameras with her own body.
"Put your phones down," Ling said coldly.
Her voice wasn't loud it didn't need to be.
Hands trembled. A phones lowered immediately.
Ling leaned closer to Rhea, her voice dropping.
"Wear it. You're freezing."
For one heartbeat, Rhea almost did.
Almost.
Then her face hardened.
She grabbed the blazer with both hands and shoved it off herself, throwing it back at Ling's chest.
"I don't need this," Rhea snapped.
The corridor froze again.
Ling caught the blazer automatically, stunned.
Rhea turned to face her fully now, eyes blazing, humiliation transforming into rage.
"I didn't ask for your help," Rhea said, voice shaking but loud. "And I don't want your pity."
Ling's jaw tightened. "This isn't pity."
Rhea laughed bitterly. "Everything you do is power. Don't pretend this is kindness."
Ling stepped closer, her shadow towering. "You think I'd let them film you like this?"
"Yes," Rhea shot back instantly. "Because you already let them destroy me."
A sharp inhale passed through Ling's teeth.
"You walked out like this on purpose?" Ling demanded.
"I walked out because you left me no choice," Rhea said. "Because of your doll. Your rules. Your threats."
Students stood frozen, too scared to move, too curious to leave.
Ling's eyes flicked around, catching every phone, every stare. Her voice dropped — lethal calm.
"Get lost," she ordered the crowd.
No one argued.
They scattered quickly, whispers trailing behind them.
When only the two of them remained, the air felt heavier.
Ling held the blazer tighter in her fists. "You're bleeding pride just to prove something."
Rhea stepped back. "At least I'm bleeding for myself. Not pretending I don't care."
Ling's eyes darkened. "You threw this away," she said quietly. "Not me."
Rhea's lips trembled, but she refused to let the tears fall.
"You already destroyed me," she said. "Covering me now doesn't undo it."
Ling swallowed hard. "I wasn't trying to undo anything."
"Then stop," Rhea said. "Stop touching me. Stop controlling the damage you created."
She turned away before Ling could respond.
Every step she took echoed wet shoes, soaked fabric, shattered dignity.
Ling stood there, blazer hanging uselessly from her hands.
And Rhea walked on, knowing she'd chosen humiliation over dependence.
Knowing it hurt worse —
but hurt on her own terms.
She reached her car somehow.
The moment the door shut, everything she had been holding back shattered.
She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and cried, violently, like something had been ripped out of her chest. Her body shook, breath coming in broken gasps, tears blurring everything in front of her.
Her wet dress clung to her skin, cold now, uncomfortable, humiliating.
She hated it.
She hated the stares.
She hated the cameras.
She hated Ling.
"I didn't need her," she whispered to herself, voice cracking. "I didn't need anyone."
But her chest hurt like she was lying.
She slammed her palm against the wheel once, then again, sobbing harder.
"Why does it hurt this much," she cried, pressing her forehead against the steering wheel. "Why won't it stop?"
The car stayed parked there longer than it should have. People passed. Cars moved. Life continued.
Rhea didn't.
—
Back inside the university grounds, Ling stood exactly where Rhea had left her.
The corridor was empty now. Too quiet.
Ling slowly looked down at her own hands.
They were still trembling.
Her mind replayed it against her will Rhea's soaked dress, the way the fabric had clung to her body, the transparency, the cameras lifting, the laughter starting.
Something inside Ling snapped violently.
Her jaw tightened so hard it hurt.
"She walked out like that," Ling muttered under her breath.
Not because she wanted attention.
Because she had no choice.
Ling's chest rose sharply as realization hit her in full force how exposed Rhea had been, how everyone had seen her, how Ling's own name, her own doll, her own rule had made it possible.
The anger that followed wasn't cold.
It was explosive.
Ling turned sharply, eyes blazing, and stormed back toward the building.
Rina noticed first.
"Ling?" she called. "What—"
Ling slammed her palm against a locker so hard the metal dented.
"WHO RECORDED," Ling roared.
The sound echoed down the hall.
Students froze in place.
No one answered.
Ling turned slowly, her eyes scanning faces like weapons.
"I asked," she said quietly now, voice far more terrifying, "who recorded her."
A student's phone slipped from trembling fingers and clattered onto the floor.
Ling walked over, picked it up, and looked at the paused frame — Rhea, wet, exposed, eyes empty.
Ling's vision went red.
She crushed the phone under her heel without hesitation.
"Delete everything," she ordered. "Every clip. Every photo."
Someone whispered, "B-but—"
Ling snapped her head toward them.
"If one video survives," she said, calm and deadly, "you will pray I only destroy your academic life."
Silence.
Students scrambled, deleting, shaking, nodding.
Ling straightened, breathing heavy.
Her anger shifted — no longer just outward.
It turned inward.
She saw it clearly now.
Rhea hadn't thrown the blazer because she didn't need warmth.
She'd thrown it because accepting it meant accepting Ling still had power over her.
And Rhea would rather freeze than depend on her again.
Ling dragged a hand through her hair, frustration burning her throat.
"She walked out in wet clothes," Ling muttered, voice tight. "And I let it happen."
The realization hurt worse than any insult Rhea had ever thrown.
Ling turned away sharply, fists clenched.
Anger surged through her veins.
——
Rhea reached the mansion long after the noise of the university had faded, but the weight of it followed her inside.
The moment she stepped in, Kane saw her.
Her eyes narrowed instantly taking in the wet dress, the stiffness in Rhea's posture, the way she avoided looking up.
"So," Kane said coolly, setting her glass down. "You're tolerating all this now?"
Rhea didn't answer.
Kane stood, heels clicking slowly as she approached. "She's taking advantage of you. Again."
Still nothing.
Rhea walked past her without a word, each step heavier than the last.
Kane's voice sharpened. "I asked you something."
Rhea stopped for half a second, her back still turned. Her fingers curled slightly, nails digging into her palm.
"I'm tired," she said flatly. "Not interested in explanations. Not interested in lessons."
She continued toward the stairs.
Kane followed, her tone smooth but cutting. "Look at you. Wet clothes. Public humiliation. And you say nothing? That girl destroys you and you still protect her by staying silent."
Rhea paused at her bedroom door.
"She didn't destroy me," Rhea said quietly. "I'm already ruined."
Kane's lips curved faintly. "Good. Then stop letting her play with what's left."
Rhea opened the door and stepped inside.
Kane added, just loud enough to reach her, "Remember, Rhea people like Ling don't love. They control."
Rhea didn't respond.
The door closed softly, but the sound echoed like a final decision.
—
Inside her room, Rhea leaned against the door as soon as it shut.
Her legs gave out.
She slid down slowly until she was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to her chest. Her wet dress still clung to her skin, cold and uncomfortable, but she didn't bother changing.
Her mind replayed everything the locker room, the laughter, the cameras, the blazer hitting the ground.
And Ling's eyes.
Not cruel.
Not satisfied.
Furious.
Rhea squeezed her eyes shut.
"Stop," she whispered to herself. "Stop thinking about her."
She pressed her forehead into her knees, breathing unevenly.
Kane's words echoed: she's taking advantage. But they didn't fit the way Ling had looked.
That contradiction hurt more than either version alone.
Rhea stayed there for a long time, unmoving, letting the silence swallow her.
Upstairs, the mansion returned to its usual cold stillness.
——
University
Ling locked herself inside her private room.
The moment the door shut, the control she wore in public finally collapsed.
She stood there for a second, breathing hard, fists clenched, jaw tight and then her vision blurred.
Her knees hit the floor.
Ling pressed her palm over her mouth as a sound tore out of her anyway — broken, raw, nothing like the cold authority everyone feared. Tears spilled despite her hatred for them, hot and uncontrollable.
Her mind replayed it again and again.
Rhea stepping out in that soaked dress.
The way the fabric clung to her.
The phones lifting.
The laughter.
And then Rhea's eyes.
Ashamed.
That was what shattered her.
Ling dragged a hand through her hair violently. "I did this," she whispered, voice cracking. "I did this to you."
Her chest hurt like it was being crushed from the inside.
She slammed her fist against the floor once, then again, rage mixing with guilt until she couldn't tell them apart.
"I wanted you to hurt," Ling choked out, tears streaking down her face. "Not like that. Not like that."
She curled forward, elbows on her knees, face buried in her hands.
The humiliation hadn't been just Rhea's.
It was Ling's too knowing her name, her rules, her silence had allowed it to happen. Knowing she had been standing right there and still been too late.
Ling's breath shook as another sob broke free.
"I saw your eyes," she whispered hoarsely. "You looked like the whole world saw something they weren't meant to. I am sorry."
Her teeth clenched hard enough to ache.
Ling wiped her face roughly, eyes burning now with something darker than tears.
"No one gets to see you like that," she muttered. "No one."
She stood abruptly, pacing the room like a caged animal, hands trembling.
"If they think this is a game," she said under her breath, "they're about to learn what humiliation actually means."
But when she finally stopped, alone in the silence, her shoulders sagged.
Because beneath the rage, beneath the vows of destruction, there was one truth she couldn't escape:
She had hurt the one person she still couldn't stop protecting.
And that realization hurt more than anything anyone else could ever do to her.
The tears stopped not because the pain ended, but because it hardened.
She straightened, jaw setting into that familiar cold line, and reached for her phone.
Her fingers moved fast.
Ling: "Rowen."
Rowen picked up immediately. "Yes, boss."
Ling: "Auditorium. Now. Full attendance."
A pause. "All students?"
Ling's voice dropped, lethal. "Did I stutter?"
"No. I'll do it."
She disconnected and dialed again.
Ling: "Jian."
"Yes."
Ling: "Make the announcement. Mandatory. Anyone missing will regret it."
Jian swallowed audibly. "Understood."
The calls ended.
Ling stood there for a second longer, staring at her own reflection in the dark glass — eyes red, expression empty.
"Humiliation," she muttered. "You think you understand it."
She grabbed her jacket and walked out.
The announcement echoed across campus seconds later.
"All students are required to report to the main auditorium immediately. This is a direct order."
Confusion spread fast.
Whispers followed.
Phones buzzed.
Everyone knew that tone.
Everyone knew that name.
Students poured in nervous, curious, terrified. The auditorium filled fast, rows creaking under the weight of bodies and fear.
Rowen stood near the stage, arms crossed. Jian checked the doors personally, making sure no one slipped out.