The black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided through the gates of SMA Garuda like a silent predator entering its territory. This wasn't just any school; it was a sanctuary for the children of the 0.1%—a place where the tuition cost more than a suburban house and the parking lot looked like an international auto show.
Inside the car, Aralyn Valerick sat with her legs crossed, her gaze fixed on the tablet in her hand. She wasn't looking at social media or celebrity gossip. She was reviewing the Valerick Group's quarterly performance reports. If she was going to play the part of the heiress, she needed to know exactly how much power she actually wielded.
"Miss Aralyn, we have arrived," the driver, a man named Jaka who had served the family for a decade, said nervously. He kept glancing at the rearview mirror, waiting for the usual outburst or the demand to "accidently" drive into Revan's car just to get his attention.
"Thank you, Jaka," Aralyn said smoothly, her voice devoid of its usual high-pitched whine. She tucked the tablet into her leather briefcase—a sharp contrast to the glittery, impractical bags the old Aralyn used to carry.
As the door opened, the air of the campus hit her. It smelled of cut grass, expensive espresso, and the faint, underlying scent of desperate social climbing.
The moment her heels touched the pavement—click, click, click—the courtyard went silent. Groups of students stopped mid-sentence. Eyes widened. Whispers began to ripple through the crowd like a virus.
"Is that Aralyn?"
"I heard she tried to drown herself because Revan rejected her."
"Look at her... she looks different. Did she get more work done?"
Aralyn ignored them. In her previous life, she had walked through rooms filled with cutthroat billionaires; a bunch of teenagers with designer backpacks didn't even register on her radar. She adjusted her blazer—a custom-fit piece that accentuated her sharp shoulders—and began walking toward the main building.
Her memories informed her that this was the exact spot where she usually waited for Revan. She would stand there for an hour, holding a lunchbox she hadn't even cooked herself, just to be stepped on by him.
But today, she didn't even glance at the spot where Revan's sports car was parked.
Suddenly, a commotion broke out near the lockers. A group of girls—Aralyn's "friends," or more accurately, her lackeys—were cornering a small, fragile-looking figure.
"Where do you think you're going, Scholarship Girl?" one of the girls, a redhead named Maya, sneered. She was holding a stack of books that clearly didn't belong to her. "Aralyn is coming back today, and she's going to be in a bad mood because of what your presence did to her relationship with Revan. You should just crawl back to whatever hole you came from."
The girl they were bullying was Vanya.
Vanya stood with her head down, her fingers trembling as she gripped the straps of her worn-out backpack. She was beautiful in a way that felt out of place here—pure, untainted, and exhausted. She was the "Female Lead," the girl destined to endure Aralyn's cruelty until the hero rescued her.
Aralyn watched the scene from a few meters away. Her heart didn't flare with the jealousy the original Aralyn felt. Instead, she felt a strange sense of kinship. She saw the girl she used to be before she became a CEO—the girl who had nothing but her brain and her will to survive.
Maya raised her hand, ready to shove Vanya against the lockers to "prepare her" for Aralyn's arrival.
"Maya."
The voice wasn't loud, but it had the chilling resonance of a blade being drawn from a scabbard.
Maya froze. She turned around, a fake, sycophantic smile instantly plastered on her face. "Aralyn! Queen, you're back! We were just teaching this little rat a lesson for you. We knew you'd want to—"
"You knew?" Aralyn interrupted, stepping into the circle. She towered over Maya, not just in height, but in presence. She looked down at the girl as if she were a smudge on a window. "I don't remember giving you permission to think for me, Maya. It's a task you're clearly ill-equipped for."
The crowd gasped. Maya's face turned a bright, humiliated red. "But... we're doing this for you! Because of Revan—"
"If I hear that name come out of your mouth one more time," Aralyn whispered, leaning in close so only Maya could hear, "I will ensure your father's construction firm loses the Valerick contract by sunset. Do I make myself clear?"
Maya's eyes filled with genuine terror. She stepped back, stumbling over her own feet. "I... yes, Aralyn. I'm sorry."
"Get out of my sight. All of you," Aralyn commanded.
The lackeys scrambled away like cockroaches when the light is turned on. The hallway cleared, leaving only Aralyn and the trembling Vanya.
Vanya looked up, her eyes wide and watery. She was waiting for the blow. She was waiting for the "True Villainess" to do something far worse than Maya had attempted.
Aralyn looked at Vanya. She reached out, and Vanya flinched, closing her eyes.
But instead of a slap, Vanya felt a gentle hand pick up a fallen book from the floor. Aralyn dusted it off and held it out to her.
"Your book, Vanya," Aralyn said, her voice calm and surprisingly kind. "In this school, the only thing you should be dropping is your enemies, not your education."
Vanya stared at the book in Aralyn's hand as if it were a live grenade. Her breath hitched, and she hesitantly reached out, her fingers brushing against Aralyn's cold, manicured skin. When the blow didn't come, Vanya looked up, her brown eyes searching Aralyn's face for a sign of a cruel prank.
"Thank... thank you, Miss Aralyn," Vanya whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the surrounding students who were still watching from the shadows of the lockers.
"You're welcome," Aralyn replied simply. She didn't linger. She had no intention of becoming Vanya's best friend in five minutes; that would be unrealistic and suspicious. She simply turned to walk toward her classroom, her posture radiating an effortless authority.
However, she didn't get far.
"Aralyn! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
The voice was deep, arrogant, and laced with a familiar irritation. Aralyn didn't even need her borrowed memories to know who it was. She stopped, but she didn't turn around immediately. She took a slow, calming breath, mentalizing the "Revan Dirgantara" file.
Revan Dirgantara. The crown prince of the Dirgantara Group. Tall, athletic, with the kind of brooding "bad boy" looks that made teenagers swoon. In the novel, his disdain for Aralyn was his defining trait—until he met Vanya.
Aralyn turned slowly, her expression one of mild boredom. Revan was standing a few feet away, his school blazer unbuttoned, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked exactly like the hero of a high school drama—and exactly like the kind of immature boy Aralyn had fired dozens of times in her past life.
"I asked you a question," Revan snapped, stepping closer. He glanced at Vanya, who was still trembling nearby, and then back at Aralyn. "Is this a new tactic? Playing the 'good girl' to get my attention? Because it's pathetic, even for you."
The students in the hallway held their breath. This was the moment Aralyn was supposed to burst into tears or scream that she did it all for him.
Instead, Aralyn tilted her head, a faint, amused smile playing on her lips. "Your attention, Revan? Tell me, do you truly believe the sun rises and sets according to your schedule?"
Revan flinched as if she had slapped him. "What?"
Aralyn took a step toward him. She didn't look like a girl in love; she looked like a predator evaluating a particularly loud insect. "You seem to be under the impression that every action I take is a satellite orbiting the planet of You. It's a fascinating level of narcissism. Misplaced, but fascinating."
"You... you were literally crying in the rain two days ago, begging me not to leave!" Revan shouted, his face reddening as he felt the power dynamic shift.
"Two days ago, I was suffering from a severe lack of sleep and, evidently, a temporary lapse in taste," Aralyn said, her voice cool and projecting clearly through the hallway. "People change, Revan. Some people grow up. Others, it seems, stay stuck in their own self-importance."
She stepped even closer, leaning in so that only he could hear the ice in her tone. "I have millions of dollars to manage and a future to build. You are a distraction I can no longer afford. So, do us both a favor: move. You're blocking the path to my education."
Revan stood frozen, his mouth slightly open. He looked for the obsession in her eyes, the desperation he fed his ego with, but he found nothing but a vast, chilling emptiness.
Aralyn brushed past him, her shoulder hitting his lightly—a deliberate dismissal.
"Vanya," Aralyn called out without looking back.
Vanya, who had been watching the scene in total shock, jumped. "Y-yes?"
"Stop shaking. You have a math quiz in first period, and cortisol is terrible for memory retention. Get to class."
With that, Aralyn walked away, the click of her heels sounding like the ticking of a clock counting down the end of the old world. Behind her, Revan was left standing in the middle of the hallway, no longer the "cool hero," but a boy who had just been rendered irrelevant by the very girl he thought he owned.
Vanya watched Aralyn's retreating back, a strange, fluttery feeling in her chest. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel like a victim. She felt like she had just witnessed a revolution.