Of all things, this is what worries Camilla most.

If Lenna’s plotting rebellion, she’ll drag his family down with her.

It’s like bargaining with a tiger for its hide—digging your own grave. Camilla doesn’t believe Lenna could pull off a flawless coup. If anything goes wrong, everyone dies under that lord’s giant axe.

So he probed indirectly, urging her to drop the unrealistic idea.

And the result? Nothing.

“Ahem, pretend I never brought it up…”

Camilla coughed twice, awkward, trying to cover it up.

Lenna walked into the classroom with Lingling, chose a seat toward the back, then continued, “When the tower’s about to collapse, the worms become king. If it’s a race to rot, let’s see who rots with flair.”

Good people die young; bad ones stink for ages.

It’s simple, yet countless people still rush to it.

Lenna used to be one of them. Her end was miserable.

Camilla: “…”

“Speechless?” Lenna opened her book, set it on the desk, and motioned for Camilla to sit beside her.

Three seats apart was Camilla’s bottom line.

He didn’t want to sit too close to a devil. He shook his head. “Your mind’s different. I can’t keep up.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying. And I know the calamity the Empire’s about to face.”

Lenna carried the confidence of a second rebirth, which made her even harder for Camilla to read.

The rumors were lies. Lenna wasn’t a useless pampered heiress. Her strategy, her depth, her strength—far beyond everyone at the academy.

She’d been hiding behind a fake wastrel persona all along!

Camilla’s heart tightened. “Do you want to be a savior?”

“Savior…?”

Lenna actually thought about it. “Bold idea, boy. You do have a heart for saving people.”

Even when the lecturer walked in and class began, Lenna still hadn’t shaken the kill, kill, kill running through her head…

“Emmm… Compared to a savior, I’m probably more of a world-ending witch.”

Her lazy murmur trailed alongside the droning, sleep-inducing speech at the podium.

Camilla clicked his tongue. “Devil…”

“Devils aren’t this pretty.” Lenna ignored the rudeness and fixed her gaze on the center of the blackboard.

He drew in a sharp breath, then held back the urge to retort and focused on the class.

Time trickled through their fingers.

As soon as the bell rang, Lenna received a purplish-red envelope, sealed with the Empire’s unique royal wax. Quite fancy.

“As expected of the Imperial family. That was fast.”

Who knows where the news leaked. Just a day had passed, and a letter from the Empress arrived. She weighed it—likely a few magic scrolls and a sheet of paper.

The scrolls were a greeting gift. She set them aside. The letter was full of political fluff—no substance.

In short: raising a Sixth-tier professional isn’t easy. For a great house like Falmouth, it’s even more precious. The Empress sends congratulations, sets a social ball to gather peers and build connections, with a personal note from the Imperial Princess. Mostly a setup to build hype for the Princess before enrollment…

An ambush banquet, plain as day.

Only fools would go.

The old Lenna might’ve agreed.

But times have changed. She’s used to dealing with the double-faced ways of those on top.

“Send a reply. Thank the Empress for me. As for the banquet, forget it. Father ordered me to stay home and not make a fuss outside.”

Lenna raised her hand and summoned a pale-green glass bird, gave it the instructions, then went to the window and let it fly.

The glass bird was magitech, a new product from the Empire’s Frontier Outpost. It stores spells or carries messages—fast and convenient.

It’s worth mentioning the Frontier Outpost.

Most magitech on the market comes from that research center, including the magitech carriage Lenna rode earlier.

This world isn’t just swords and spells. Magic is everywhere, and magitech has seeped into daily life.

Flap-flap—

Powered by mana, the glass bird flew into the bright sun.

Its small, translucent green body refracted a gemstone shine in the light, drawing every passerby’s gaze.

“If even the Empress knows, the old man’s side won’t be far behind.”

Lenna extended her slender, pale finger—the one wearing the Narcissus King—and lightly tapped Lingling’s cheek.

Soft and delicate—like fresh silken tofu.

Thanks to Lenna’s daily care, Lingling’s wounds had mostly healed. Their relationship had leapt from strangers to inseparable.

“Milady… purrr…”

Lingling squinted, comfortable, making a cat’s satisfied sound.

You’re clearly a fox.

Lenna couldn’t help laughing at the scene. “Hey, is it really that comfy?”

“It’s not that Lingling’s comfy. It’s Milady’s touch. It makes Lingling want to cling to Milady’s fingertips.” The Fox Maiden spoke softly, obedient. Her dewy cheeks were flushed.

Her fox tail coiled around Lenna’s stockinged legs like grape vines. Most beastkin use their tails for courting. Lingling’s subconscious curling tail was an admission of feelings beyond friendship.

“Mm-hm?”

Lenna suddenly couldn’t ease away, feeling strain.

That strong, tentacle-like tail pressed tight between her legs. The culprit Fox Maiden lowered her head, shy. Her fingers twisted the hem, wrinkling it again and again, then smoothing…

The little one’s feelings aren’t simple.

Even the dull would catch Lingling’s meaning. But Lenna didn’t want it to happen too fast to her.

Honestly, Lenna had never thought that way, nor dug into Lingling’s heart.

In her last life, she was busy fleeing, nearly unable to afford meals. There was no time for romance, let alone grand love—pure luxury.

So today, is this little fox finally baring the fangs of feelings she’s hidden for so long?

“Nonsense.” Lenna feigned anger. “Let go.”

“Mmm-uu…” The Fox Maiden loosened her tail at once, sagging from between Lenna’s legs to the floor, deflated. “Lingling didn’t mean it…”

“Ate too much and the energy’s got nowhere to go?”

Lenna snorted coldly, stepped in, driving Lingling to the corner. She planted a hand on the wall beside her head. “Or am I too good to you, making you think you can keep pushing?”

“Please don’t be mad, Milady… Lingling just… just…”

The Fox Maiden panicked, words stumbling. Her small fists pressed to her chest, eyes trembling, like she might cry.

She regretted what she’d done so much.

Just as Milady said, she had been too forward. To someone who gave her a warm home and accepted her sensitive identity, she shouldn’t have looked with those lewd eyes, or used such crass, low tricks to entice…

Acting like this, how was she any different from the women trading flesh in the pleasure districts?