"What a magnificent song, what a pure voice! Only someone with an utterly untainted heart—gentle and kind by nature—could convey such depth. Even if others sing flawlessly, without that sincerity, it lacks soul. That girl is truly remarkable. Though still young, this is the highest gift a Bard can possess," Imet couldn't help but marvel.

"Oh? That impressive? But most Angels have exceptional talent here. Maybe I could pull it off too," I retorted stubbornly.

"Not quite. I've heard many Angels sing, even Sirens and Fairies, but few reach Mistflower's level. As a Bard, I focus on songs—I'm not great with poetry. I've listened to famous singers worldwide. Most have better technique, sweeter voices, even titles like Songstress or Performer. But for a heart as clear and pure as hers? Only a handful of masters possess that gift."

Imet spoke with reverence, his voice thick with longing.

"I could never reach that level naturally—my heart's too cluttered, Lefur, same as yours. But I can learn from her to express my feelings better through song. I must study under her. Will you help me?"

"Heh, I doubt it. Mistflower doesn't like slick-talking, emotionally clueless guys like you," I snapped, annoyed. But again, he ignored me.

"I'll work on it myself. After class, I'll get familiar with her." Fine, fine. Go ahead. Hope you hit a wall and get a bloody nose.

After class, Mistflower approached me. She'd been uneasy all lesson without me beside her, then the teacher dragged her up to sing—like private torture turned public execution. Now, with a pitiful look begging for comfort, she pushed through students heading to dorms.

But that bastard Imet beside me acted. He smoothed his hair, flashed what he thought was a handsome smile, and strode toward her.

"Hello, underclassman Mistflower. We met during registration. May I treat you to lunch? The cafeteria has decent pizza." Such a cliché pickup line. If this works, I'll fly backward forever.

"Uh... um... hello, senior. You're... Lefur's..." Mistflower looked like a rabbit cornered by a wolf, watching him warily.

"Yep! Lefur's friend. Friends of friends should be friends too. I was captivated by your singing and want to discuss music's mysteries. Let me treat you to lunch while we chat." Shameless. Daring to use my name.

Mistflower shot me a pleading look, begging rescue. I pretended not to see, packed my things, and left. Hmph. Handle your own mess.

My anger didn't last. Back in my room, I found I'd accidentally brought the long-awaited "The Knight King's Dragon-Slaying Chronicles 8." I read nonstop until evening, when my stomach growled from skipping dinner. Imet's nonsense was forgotten.

Later, Mistflower told me she'd escaped his pestering. He suddenly remembered I had the novel, yelled, and ran after me. Naturally, he didn't catch up.

As the saying goes, you can't carve rotten wood. I just don't get what matters most to him, or what he's chasing. Truly understanding someone is hard—especially a goofball like him.

Next, Imet showed his persistence. He treated Mistflower as essential to his musical path, popping up out of nowhere to bother her.

For example, during Divine Language class one day, he pretended not to understand, sat close to Mistflower, and asked her to teach sentence structure. She couldn't refuse, so she reluctantly explained. Truth is, she wasn't great at it—I'd taught her most. But under his relentless pestering, she had to talk.

Sure enough, he soon steered the conversation to music. Mistflower wanted to answer well, but her strength was raw talent—she knew nothing of technique and couldn't explain her singing.

Another time, on a free weekend, the idiot blurted out:

"Fellow underclassmen, let's go swimming together!"

I turned to the courtyard, icy wind howling. What weather for swimming? Sure, we weren't bothered by cold—even in late autumn, we wore short sleeves and skirts—but swimming needs the right mood.

But Imet got smart this once. He offered to buy "The Knight King's Dragon-Slaying Chronicles 9" if I brought Mistflower. Shamefully, I took his bribe and dragged her along.

On the way, he invited Liyue. I thought she'd refuse flatly, but after explaining, Liyue glared at Mistflower with clear hostility, then agreed instantly. Mistflower, the airhead, didn't notice.

At the Water District's simulated beach, crowds gathered. Magic-regulated warmth filled the air with summer vibes. Students played on sand or splashed in waves; yachts bobbed in the distance. Honestly, swimming here wasn't bad.

But I regretted it buying swimsuits. I hadn't thought about that earlier. Liyue boldly picked a scandalously tiny bikini. Mistflower and I, blushing furiously, chose the most conservative one-pieces.

Worse, the changing room was a public hall. Inside, I was dazzled by youthful, alluring bodies—completely lost. I dragged Mistflower to a corner, facing the wall to change. Luckily, I was used to my own body, so I had some immunity. But staying among these beauties too long? Total disaster.

Liyue's swimsuit lived up to its shameless reputation. Her usually hidden bust was squeezed by a deliberately tiny bikini top, creating a deep cleavage—only slightly smaller than Mistflower's. Below, the bottoms were string-thin, nearly vanishing into her butt, leaving two dazzling pale cheeks. It felt more tempting than nakedness.

"You! What shameless outfit is this? How is this any different from being naked!" Mistflower snapped. She'd been overwhelmed by the locker room girls and finally spoke. Yeah, that's what I was thinking too.

"What are you talking about? Swimsuits are meant to be seen. An unattractive one isn't worth wearing," Liyue replied with a hint of mockery. But she held back, probably considering Imet's recommendation.

Imet was stunned too, unable to look away for minutes. Later, he admitted it was his first time seeing her in such attire.

During swimming, Imet tried hard to get close to Mistflower. But Liyue wouldn't allow it. Whenever he neared her, Liyue grabbed him and steered the conversation to herself.

I had fun though. To avoid being the third wheel in this weird love triangle, I swam off alone, enjoying the sea and the view.

Actually, many girls wore even more revealing swimsuits. They clustered around boys in little groups, flirting playfully. Ugh, I envied those guys so much.

But with a safe distance, I could admire them purely. As professionals, their bodies grew more perfect with strength and stayed that way. The academy's genius beauties outshone bar floozies by miles.

Overall, I was very satisfied. I'd definitely come back. But Mistflower was fuming like a cat with its fur standing on end—a rare sight.

Imet didn't stop. One day, he sneaked up to ask what Mistflower liked to eat. That stumped me—I really didn't know. Cafeteria food was tasty but ordinary, and Mistflower wasn't picky, so I couldn't tell her favorites.

This wouldn't do. I had my "Mistflower Training Plan" to execute. Not knowing her food preferences? How could I play along? Catering to her tastes was key.

"Mistflower, let's eat at a hotel today?" I went to her room.

"Uh, a hotel? Why so sudden..." She was sitting at her desk, working hard.

"I'm sick of cafeteria food. Is that even fit for humans? Today, we're eating out properly, or I'll lose it." Well, the food was actually decent, but I demanded firmly she come with me.

"Okay... I actually like the cafeteria..." Mistflower muttered in protest, but she habitually did as I said.

"Let's get ready. Imet and Liyue are coming too." Mistflower looked up in surprise at the door—Imet stood there, grinning like a sunny idiot.

"Ugh... why are they coming too..." Lately, she'd grown scared of him. Imet's pestering and Liyue's hostility had left her with psychological scars.

"It's fine, it's fine. We're just eating. Two people is too few; we won't order much." Anyway, Imet would cling on shamelessly, and where he went, Liyue followed. Might as well bring them from the start.