“No—I’ve sweated for the academy, I’ve bled for St. Maria. You cannot treat me like this! I demand to see the dean! I demand to see Pink Bear!”

In the vast and empty martial training field, Coren let out a heart-wrenching scream.

“See the dean? I’ll take you to see him right now. But I’m afraid Pink Bear might not even be able to save himself now!”

Kaid sneered, and with his immense strength, he pressed Coren harshly to the ground. The thick ropes in his hands flipped and twisted swiftly, tying Coren tightly.

A sturdy Shibari knot was secured on him.

Kaid even went the extra mile by kicking Coren’s backside several times.

Damn it.

Just now, I stood behind you, supported you, gave you my backing. And you turn out to actually be a bandit?

You deceived me—played with my feelings!

Kaid felt himself morph into a ruthless machine. The next step was to tie up Pink Bear, pair him with this guy, and burn them both alive!

“Wait—wait! I have something to say!”

Seeing Kaid pulling off his smelly socks, ready to shove them into his mouth, Coren cried out in panic one last time:

“Just let me say one final sentence!”

“A final sentence? Perfect. Let me hear your last words.” Kaid sneered, loosening his grip on Coren temporarily.

“I…”

Coren took a deep breath, then turned to look at Moen with bristling hairs, and revealed a bittersweet smile:

“This time, I’ve lost. But it doesn’t matter—my beauty—I’ll come back, one day, to marry…”

Click.

A sudden chill surged forward.

Brilliant frost immediately crystallized, turning Coren—still with that disgusting grin on his face—into a frozen popsicle.

Celicia glanced at him coldly. “You disgust me.”

“…”

Moen, standing not far away, silently took a step back, shrinking his neck.

For some reason, it seemed like Celicia wasn’t in a good mood.

“Now that the truth is clear.”

Celicia's icy gaze swept over the crowd of "heroes," who had been so rowdy moments earlier but now stood in mute silence.

“And it appears no one has any objections to the situation. So... Professor Kaid, the rest is up to you. I’ll refrain from disrupting your class any further.”

“No, no, of course—you’ve helped a great deal.” Kaid offered a bitter smile.

Normally, he despised anyone interrupting his class. But now... what was there to say?

Besides, compared to teaching the class, he was more eager to track down Pink Bear and settle scores with him.

“Well, then, I’ll take my leave.”

Celicia nodded courteously and focused her attention on Moen once more:

“Moen Campbell, follow me.”

“Oh, oh,”

Moen responded blankly, preparing to follow Celicia but was stopped by Professor Kaid.

“About that—Moen…”

Moen turned back, only to see Kaid—unexpectedly—looking embarrassed. Scratching his head, Kaid awkwardly said,

“My earlier accusation... I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?”

Moen froze in place.

Professor Kaid... apologizing to him?

After a brief moment of confusion, Moen collected himself.

Though Kaid was quick to anger, he had always been a straightforward person.

Otherwise, his earlier reaction wouldn’t have been so intense.

“It’s okay, Professor Kaid.”

After some thought, Moen chose to forgive him.

After all, Kaid had merely acted impulsively and hadn’t actually hurt him, indicating that Kaid was staying true to his role as a teacher.

Compared to Kaid, the others...

Moen gave a sideways glance at the audience, then followed Celicia out.

…

…

Outside the training field, Moen looked at Celicia, who walked ahead of him. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. Finally, in his awkwardness, he blurted:

“By the way, Celicia, why did you suddenly show up here?”

Her timing was so precise—how could it merely be a coincidence?

“Why?”

Celicia stopped walking, turned, and raised her thin eyebrows sharply—it felt as though sharp blades were hiding within.

“Should I have stayed away and let you die from stupidity?”

“…”

Moen felt her words pierce through him coldly, like an emotionless blade—leaving him speechless but unable to rebut.

After all, he truly had made a foolish decision in that moment.

Whether conducting further investigations or reporting Coren to Professor Pulan, there were countless ways to expose Coren’s identity as a bandit. Yet, he had chosen the dumbest route—acting publicly and not only bringing trouble onto himself but also tarnishing the reputation he had painstakingly rebuilt over recent months.

“Though, that punch of yours was fine.”

Celicia suddenly said, her tone unexpectedly carrying a hint of paternal pride—a father suddenly discovering his son wasn’t entirely useless:

“If you hadn’t thrown that punch, I suspect the Campbell Duke might’ve really started reconsidering his heir.”

“Can we not bring that up?!” Moen wailed in protest.

As they passed rows of ornamental trees, birds resting atop them fluttered away as Celicia cast them a glacial glance.

“It was Ariel who told me to come,” Celicia revealed suddenly.

“Huh?”

“She said you were getting confessed to—by a guy—and told me to come and witness the drama.”

“Damn it.”

The brief warmth in Moen’s heart was swiftly extinguished.

He had just started to feel grateful that Ariel—the girl who despised him—would reach out to help.

And yet, it turned out, she merely wanted to drag Celicia over to see him humiliated.

Classic, really—good for you, phenix-pride protagonist, truly going for the double play; chasing after two leads at once.

But… seems like neither line is panning out too well.

“Thank you, Celicia—I owe you again.”

Moen sincerely expressed gratitude.

Thinking back, it seemed Celicia had been helping him all along.

Even though the one who truly owed compensation was clearly himself.

“If you genuinely feel guilty, then stop making trouble from now on.”

Sensing Moen’s feelings, Celicia responded coldly.

“Haha…”

Moen could only offer a bitter chuckle.

It wasn’t that he wanted to attract trouble—it’s just that the trouble kept finding him.

Take this time for instance...

“You seem quite unhappy though.”

“Eh?”

“Even though the matter was resolved, the misunderstanding clarified, and the perverted guy who might’ve harassed you got arrested, you look downright miserable.”

Celicia tilted her head, scrutinizing him.

“… Am I?”

“Your expression practically reads ‘I’m eighty years old.’”

“I see.”

Unknowingly, had I lost control over even my own expression?

“Actually, it’s not that I’m unhappy—it’s just…”

Lowering his head, Moen stared intently at the ground and murmured softly:

“I feel a bit lost, that’s all.”

Despite changing himself so much,

Despite earning even his senior’s praise for his efforts,

Despite convincing himself that things had become different in many areas…

At moments like these,

There were still people who refused to trust him.

People unwilling to give him any additional time.

People…

Hiding among the crowd, showing him only malice.

I can’t help but wonder…

Amid all I’ve endeavored to embody…

Does any of it—

“Moen Campbell!”

Celicia suddenly raised her voice, shattering his train of thought.

Looking up, Moen found Celicia's gaze sharp and icy, as though treating him like combustible trash.

“You appear… stuck in your own rut.”

“Hmm?”

Moen looked puzzled—what did she mean?

“Do you actually believe you can make everyone like you?”

“No, I just don’t want others to harbor malice toward me; I just want them to—stop seeing me through a lens of prejudice…”

“That notion is utter bullshit.”

“Huh?”

Moen stared in shock.

He hadn’t expected such crude words from someone like Celicia.

“What do you think of me?” she asked abruptly.

“You…”

Moen started to answer but paused with realization.

A girl, suddenly, in an isolated location, asking such a question—

Gotta tread carefully here.

“The stockings suit you... Urk!”

Celicia withdrew her knee-strike, her gaze detached:

“Answer properly.”

“Flawless.”

Clutching his abdomen like a shrimp, Moen trembled as he raised his trembling thumb.

“Utterly flawless.”

“Even someone like me—your so-called perfect depiction—would still warrant disdain. Empire princess, student council president, adorned with countless titles, even my appearance, which I think is decent—yet many people hate me. Some even loathe me.”

Celicia replied matter-of-factly:

“Like Mintgoth, head of the news club, who spends days stabbing straw men of me—he likely wishes I’d drop dead instantly, just so he could sell front-page scandal stories.”

“You… you knew that too?” Moen was stunned.

“Ha, Mintgoth’s most trusted aide has long joined the student council—though he hasn’t realized it yet,” Celicia sneered.

“…!”

Moen shivered instinctively.

Terrifying—Celicia was absolutely terrifying.

“Wanting to shed negative preconceptions and be liked by others—that’s perfectly normal, especially for someone in your position, Moen Campbell. But you shouldn’t tack on ‘by everyone.’”

Celicia scrutinized Moen and continued:

“Being bitten by a few insignificant bugs yet sulking as if someone stole your candy—this side of you disgusts me even more than the version of you months ago.

“At least back then, if someone insulted you, you’d point at their nose and shout back: ‘My dad’s a duke—who the hell are you?’”

“…”

Moen opened his mouth soundlessly, akin to a fish gasping on dry land.

“Beyond mere dislike—sometimes, the very fact of your transformation itself might invite malice.”

“The transformation itself?”

Celicia’s words only confused Moen further.

A spoiled, wicked troublemaker suddenly turning good—wouldn’t that be beneficial to everyone?

At least for the academy, right?

“Seriously, I can’t quite tell whether it's your personality shifting or your soul swapping altogether.”

Looking at Moen’s bewildered expression, Celicia sighed imperceptibly:

“You’ve severed too cleanly from your past, Moen Campbell.”

“Huh?”

Moen was still completely confused.

But Celicia seemed to have lost patience. She turned and continued walking forward.

As she walked, she suddenly looked back at Moen behind her.

"Why are you still following me? Do I need you to escort me?"

"Well, I..."

"Go and do what you're supposed to do. Don't tell me you're just going to leave like this, or I'll scold you to death."

"Oh, oh."

Moen scratched his head foolishly, as if he had finally remembered what he was supposed to do, and turned to leave in the opposite direction.

He had barely taken two steps when he suddenly looked back at the silver-haired girl, who, as usual, appeared cold on the outside but warm on the inside.

"Celicia."

"Now what?"

"Just now, you were so cool."

"And?"

"I think I’m about to fall in love with you."

"About to?"

Celicia raised an eyebrow.

"But didn’t you already say you were in love with me before?"

"That was..."

Moen laughed awkwardly.

"A little different."

"But I don’t love you."

"Ah."

"Scram."

"Oh."

"Scram quickly and cleanly."

"Alright, alright."

...

...

After Moen left, Weier—the student council secretary with the bun hairstyle—appeared out of nowhere and curiously asked:

"President, aren’t you going to tell him about that matter?"

"Why should I tell him?"

"But wasn’t the reason we came to find him just to remind him about it?"

"Am I his mom? Do I have to remind him about everything?"

Despite her words, Celicia’s attention remained focused on the file in her hand— **"Report on Abnormal Activities Related to Emon Biandi."**

"I originally planned to remind him," Celicia sighed.

"But after seeing how clueless he looks, it’s better to let him suffer a bit."

"Huh? But what if he encounters danger..."

"If he dies, he dies. What does that have to do with me?"

Celicia casually tore the report into pieces and threw it into the trash can before walking away without looking back.

But if it has nothing to do with you, why are you angry?

Watching Celicia’s retreating figure, Weier stuck out her tongue and swallowed the second half of her sentence that was already on the tip of her tongue.

For some reason, it felt like if she said it, the president would suddenly become terrifying.

...