The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Instructor Calis tucked his files under his arm and left the classroom. The quiet room instantly erupted into chatter and noise.
Tilisha remained unaffected. Sitting at her desk, head slightly lowered, she stared at her notebook filled with scribbled notes, her thoughts drifting far away.
If Divine Maiden Transformation brought no prompts or reactions, did it hold no meaning for her at all?
She wasn’t a natural-born Divine Maiden. She lacked basic knowledge about Divine Maidens—like the skill called [Self-Inspection].
Self-Inspection allowed a Divine Maiden to examine her Divine Maiden Realm and the specific effects of her Divine Right. It was an innate ability exclusive to Divine Maidens.
But Tilisha couldn’t sense this skill within herself. Unable to use Self-Inspection, she had no way to understand how her Divine Maiden Realm or Divine Right activated—or what triggered them.
Perhaps textbooks could teach it. Yet frustratingly, the section on Self-Inspection—a minor but crucial skill—was glossed over in one line:
*"A Divine Maiden’s innate ability, as natural as eating and drinking."*
Beyond confirming it was innate, the text offered zero useful details.
Some records showed Divine Maidens gained Self-Inspection only after transformation. But Tilisha was no ordinary Divine Maiden. For one, her instincts couldn’t trigger her Divine Maiden Realm at all.
She wasn’t sure if transformation would grant her Self-Inspection. Right now, she felt nothing.
She had to face this crisis: if transformation didn’t unlock Self-Inspection, what then?
A Divine Maiden who couldn’t wield her Realm or Divine Right wasn’t a Divine Maiden at all.
"Still flipping through your notes after class? You’re quite the diligent student, classmate." An ill-timed voice cut through Tilisha’s thoughts.
She snapped back to reality. A girl with curly brown hair and an elegant gown now stood beside her desk. One long leg clad in black stockings was crossed over the other. She twirled a strand of hair, smiling warmly at Tilisha.
"Your praise is misplaced," Tilisha replied politely, closing her notebook.
She disliked interruptions while studying or thinking. She also disliked strangers forcing friendliness.
She tilted her head slightly. Her "keep away" aura and attitude were obvious. Why did this girl approach anyway?
Glancing at the smiling brunette, Tilisha decided she was either oblivious to social cues—or had ulterior motives. That smile suggested the latter.
Unless she wanted trouble, Tilisha couldn’t imagine why anyone would talk to her—a penniless, unawakened Divine Maiden in coarse cloth clothes with an ugly scar on her face.
"How is it misplaced? I’ve never seen you in this classroom before. Being so eager on your first day is truly rare," the curly-haired girl said with a grin.
The words sounded like praise, but Tilisha caught the subtext clearly:
*I’ve never seen you. How many classes have you skipped? After skipping so often, why pretend to be a good student now? For the teacher’s benefit? Or everyone else’s?*
Sometimes people picked fights for no reason—just because they disliked your face.
Humans divided into groups by shared identity. Those outside the group faced natural hostility.
The outcast became the "other." Fueled by superiority, this hostility turned aggressive.
"I’m Aerin Cardifen," the curly-haired girl announced before Tilisha could speak. She placed a hand over her chest, smiling broadly. "Second daughter of the Cardifen family, rulers of Cardifen City in the Empire’s south. And you are?"
An unspoken rule existed among Divine Maidens: after one introduced their family lineage, the other was expected to reciprocate. Even basic manners demanded a name in return.
Aerin’s goal was simple—to embarrass Tilisha.
Her shabby clothes and faint aura marked Tilisha as a wild Divine Maiden with no family. Announcing her own prestigious name was meant as humiliation.
If Tilisha accused her of mockery, Aerin could feign innocence: "I didn’t know you were unaffiliated!" Making Tilisha seem petty instead.
Aerin’s lips curled into a barely visible smirk. She wanted to see Tilisha stammer awkwardly, struggling to give her name.
Just a wild Divine Maiden. Her very presence in this academy was an insult. Flaunting fake diligence to win the teacher’s favor?
Unbearable.
She needed a lesson.
"Tilisha." To Aerin’s surprise, Tilisha offered a polite, calm smile and stated her name without hesitation.
"Oh? Tilisha? What a lovely name. Clearly given by someone cultured. But tell me—who named you? Your mother? Or your father?" Aerin pressed, unfazed.
Divine Maidens came from noble houses. Trained in etiquette since childhood, even insults were veiled in politeness.
Call it passive-aggressive.
The jab was obvious: Tilisha must lack one parent.
"Neither," Tilisha shook her head, smiling carelessly. "I named myself."
"Haha! Don’t be silly, Tilisha. Who names themselves at birth?" Aerin teased.
"Just admit you have no one to name you. We won’t mock your background. Stubbornness is unbecoming."
"HAHAHA..." Aerin’s words sparked laughter from nearby classmates.
"A name is just a label," Tilisha said, unfazed by the mockery. Her smile never wavered.
"I named myself because surnames are meaningless to me. Beyond distinguishing individuals, they hold no weight. It seems you disagree, Miss Cardifen."
She brushed a strand of golden hair aside, her angelic smile sharp as a blade. "Though I understand. You emphasize ‘Cardifen’ so fiercely... perhaps because aside from that name, you have nothing else to offer?"
