It was Monday’s morning rush hour. The streets teemed with vehicles and pedestrians. Occasionally, luxury cars worth a fortune sped past.

This road connected the upscale villa district to the Light Private School system. Wealthy heirs and heiresses were now being chauffeured to campus.

Light Private High School occupied the largest plot in the complex. Though merely a high school, its scale rivaled a university’s.

To flaunt its aristocratic aura, the school gate featured an English-style archway. Exquisitely carved figures from Greek mythology adorned its surface.

Yueci Ru sat in a café near the school, watching students enter Light Private High—some alone, others in groups. Truthfully, even if she returned to campus life, she’d never wanted to experience it here.

Thanks to the integrated enrollment system, Light reshuffled classes yearly. Most students knew everyone in their grade through these rotations, barring rare exceptions.

Yueci Ru thought of Hiru Kawakami’s frail frame.

To boost its reputation, Light offered special admissions slots each year: full tuition and meal subsidies for brilliant but impoverished students. Yet familiarity bred exclusion. Light Private High was notoriously unwelcoming—especially to powerless scholarship kids.

Yueci Ru sighed, adjusting the plain black-rimmed glasses on her nose. Nishikino An had arranged her new identity, worried old acquaintances might recognize her. Her name was now Yueci Porcelain, and these glasses were part of the disguise.

The name wasn’t unpleasant, so she’d accepted it. The glasses were no burden either—she’d worn thicker ones during years hunched over desks. Now, aside from monthly blood cravings, her body was perfectly healthy.

Nishikino An had forged her backstory: a special admissions student orphaned by a car crash. But halfway through the semester, her late enrollment would raise eyebrows.

Yueci Porcelain exhaled. Checking the time, she shouldered her bag and walked slowly toward the gate.

Light’s uniforms were custom-tailored—she wore none. Instead, she had on hand-me-downs from Nishikino An’s adopted daughter: a beige trench coat over a white pinstripe shirt, light blue jeans, and white sneakers. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail—Nishikino An’s doing. Yueci Porcelain hadn’t wanted to tie it up, but had relented under insistence.

Long bangs shadowed half her face. With the black frames, she looked like a sullen girl with glasses.

She craved invisibility.

The gate used a modern facial recognition system. Her face wasn’t registered yet.

Inside the guardhouse, she explained her situation. Nishikino An had prepared everything; the guard had instructions. Yueci Porcelain handed over her forged ID. Verified, she was waved through.

Relieved, she scanned the campus buildings. Their layout matched her memories, though new pathways had been added.

“You must be the new student, Yueci?”

A gentle, melodic voice came from behind.

Yueci Porcelain turned. A flicker of admiration flashed in her eyes—gone in an instant. The girl before her caught the fleeting expression. Her smile remained serene, but a trace of interest deepened in her pale eyes.

She had an angelic face. Silky, pale-gold hair cascaded down her back like an angel descended to earth. Her soft gaze made people want to pour out their secrets and shames. A red armband marked her as student council. A pricey DSLR camera hung at her side.

“I’m Hachisu Inori, student council president and a second-year. Your senior.”

“The campus is huge. New students often get lost. Guiding you is part of our duty.”

Hachisu Inori walked ahead, gesturing for Yueci Porcelain to follow.

Yueci Porcelain nodded, feigning unfamiliarity as she trailed behind. She kept several careful steps between them.

Hachisu Inori was undeniably beautiful—a seemingly warm senior. Any ordinary transfer student would’ve been charmed instantly.

But Yueci Porcelain was no ordinary student.

At the name *Hachisu*, she’d resolved to avoid this girl. The last person bearing that surname had left her with bitter memories.

*A tyrant who treated people like dogs. What good memories could she possibly have?*

Yueci Porcelain glanced away from Hachisu Inori’s elegant back, guilt pricking her conscience.

*She might even be related to that monster.*

As they walked, Hachisu Inori pointed out campus landmarks. Passersby stared.

“It’s President Hachisu… so graceful as always.”

“Who’s that beside her? A new transfer?”

“Lucky girl… getting a personal tour from Hachisu-senpai…”

Their whispers reached Yueci Porcelain’s ears.

*Popular, isn’t she?*

*Well, she is beautiful. And seems kind.*

Hachisu Inori was observing her too.

A supposed orphan from poverty, yet no grief clung to her. Her outdated outfit was genuine luxury—expensive even years ago. Most tellingly, Yueci Porcelain moved with a subtle but unmistakable grace. The kind bred by years of etiquette training.

*Interesting.*

“Yueci-chan,” Hachisu Inori’s voice stayed warm, eyes crinkling slightly as if asking casually, “why start school so late in the term?”

*Here it comes.* Yueci Porcelain recited her rehearsed lie:

“I was working to pay for my parents’ funeral.”

Hachisu Inori covered her mouth with a delicate hand. “Ah… I’m so sorry. I touched a sore spot.”

Yueci Porcelain waved it off. “It’s fine. It’s in the past.”

“You’re so strong, Yueci-chan.”

Hachisu Inori’s hand settled on Yueci Porcelain’s shoulder, as if awed by her resilience.

Yueci Porcelain hadn’t noticed their distance closing. Now their bodies nearly touched.

No breeze stirred, yet a faint, teasing fragrance lingered at Yueci Porcelain’s nose—dancing, clinging.

Hachisu Inori turned. Her pale-gold hair swept through the air, the ends brushing Yueci Porcelain’s hand. She seemed unaware.

The touch sparked a light itch. Ants crawling under her skin.

Uncomfortable, Yueci Porcelain looked away—at a flowerbed beside a Greek goddess statue.

*Hm?*

One patch of flowers looked trampled. Freshly crushed.

Ahead, Hachisu Inori’s smooth narration of school history continued. But beneath it—barely audible—came rustling fabric. The crunch of shoes on grass behind the statue.

“Hachisu Inori! You bitch! Die!”

Suddenly—

A man lunged from behind the stone. Bloodshot eyes. Twisted face. A gleaming fruit knife in his grip.