Yueci Porcelain frowned slightly, stood up, and walked over to Hiru Kawakami. She extended a hand to her.

Hiru Kawakami paused in surprise. For a fleeting moment, she hallucinated that graveyard night—the mysterious girl reaching out her hand.

She placed her palm in Yueci's and pulled herself up with the support.

"Thank you..."

After helping Hiru up, Yueci noticed dark bruises covering her calf.

She turned a cold gaze on Tanaka Kenta.

"Classmate, you've gone too far."

Tanaka Kenta snorted.

"Just a scholarship student. Do you really think you're someone important?"

As if to intimidate the new girl, he eyed Yueci up and down with ill intent.

"Heh, dressed so shabbily, yet you dare show your face at Light Academy? Anyone would think it's a junkyard."

He expected Yueci to flare up in anger.

Instead, she gave him a cold glance—as if even looking at him dirtied her eyes.

"Then you should ask the admissions office if they've switched to collecting trash," Yueci said slowly.

Tension crackled in the air.

"Do you know who my father is? I can make sure you don't last a day at Light!" Tanaka snapped, shifting to his usual threats after her retort.

"If you don't know, how should I? Perhaps ask your mother," Yueci replied.

She felt a gentle tug on her sleeve but wasn't one to hold back.

Her face looked indifferent, but her heart churned with thoughts—likely from years of frail health.

Ignoring Tanaka's darkening expression, Yueci guided Hiru back to their seats.

"What are you all crowding around for? Return to your seats! Get your textbooks ready for class," the square-faced math teacher ordered sternly.

His authority was clear; students scattered to their desks at his voice.

Even Tanaka shot them a venomous glare before sitting down.

"You'll pay for this..." he hissed through clenched teeth.

"How's your leg?" Yueci asked, glancing at Hiru's bruised calf.

"It's fine... nothing serious..." Hiru replied.

Just a bump—nothing new for her. Since her parents' accident, she'd lived with her uncle. Bruises were constant companions, better than open wounds.

Maybe Yueci cared because she was new.

Would that kindness last? Others had cared before, only to drift away because of Tanaka.

Some grew indifferent; others joined him in bullying her.

Her last desk partner had been like that—until suddenly transferring, leaving this seat empty.

Still, being cared for felt nice.

Even if brief, she wanted to hold onto this warmth.

Hiru stole a glance at Yueci.

Despite the long bangs and thick glasses, she sensed this girl wasn't unattractive.

Something familiar about her—maybe the surname—reminded her of that graveyard night.

The beautiful, mysterious Yueci Ru.

But they couldn't be related.

Thinking of her, Hiru's mind wandered.

What happened after that fierce woman took her away?

Too nervous that night, she'd left questions unanswered. Now, those mysteries might stay buried forever.

Why was she in a coffin? Why drink her blood? Who was that woman? Why did she know Hiru?

That girl seemed wrapped in secrets.

Their encounter felt like a dream—like an urban legend made real.

Yueci Porcelain listened to math class, bored.

No textbook yet, her hands empty.

She stared at the blackboard's white characters, lost in thought.

Twenty-three years later, the material hadn't changed much.

Having learned it before—and the coffin hadn't erased her memories—recalling it felt effortless.

As the teacher spoke, the concepts sharpened in her mind.

Hmm?

Yueci felt a nudge on her elbow.

She turned to see Hiru sliding her textbook closer.

Hiru thought Yueci was spacing out without a book and offered to share.

The girl avoided eye contact, lips pressed tight with tension.

Yueci nodded, accepting the kindness.

Hiru's textbook brimmed with meticulous notes—a sign of her dedication.

They shared the book, Hiru flipping pages as the teacher lectured.

She added notes carefully, utterly focused.

*Cough... cough...*

A chill must have caught her; Hiru coughed softly.

Yueci tapped her shoulder. Hiru looked up, puzzled, until Yueci pointed to her own trench coat.

Hiru blinked, confused.

Yueci shrugged off the coat and draped it over her, then resumed listening as if nothing happened.

Warmth flooded Hiru, leaving her momentarily stunned.

Tanaka Kenta sat in the back row, watching them.

He snorted, rolling his eyes in disdain.

*Acting so noble? Scholarship students like them can never catch up. What's the point of studying? They'll just end up working for us anyway.*

*Why does Light even admit these rejects? They taint the air. Sharing a room with them makes me sick.*

Tanaka was an only child, spoiled rotten. His late-in-life father granted his every whim.

He saw himself as superior, despising ordinary people.

Greedy and fickle, he'd betray anyone for a small gain.

He loved watching others grovel at his feet.

But in high school, he'd met his match: Hiru Kawakami.

Just a scholarship student, orphaned, lucky to attend Light—yet she refused to flatter his kind.

Learning her uncle worked under his father, Tanaka used it to threaten her.

Verbal abuse or physical blows—he'd done it all.

The graveyard incident was just one example.

He'd expected her to fail retrieving the bag, begging him not to fire her uncle.

Instead, she'd succeeded.

*Hmph.* Firing her uncle would remove his leverage.

She never begged—just stayed silent or shed quiet tears.

He wanted her to grovel, so he bullied her harder.

He even rallied classmates and some teachers to isolate her.

Maybe one day, like others before her, she'd jump off a building from the pressure.

But what did that matter? Money could bury scandals. He'd always been fine.

The lunch bell rang. Students and the teacher filed out. Tanaka's mind raced.

He signaled his buddies, who surrounded Hiru and Yueci's desk.

Komori Miki watched them with distaste but stayed silent.

Her family was collaborating with Tanaka's on a new project. No need for trouble.

*Those two scholarship students brought this on themselves.*

"Kawakami, come with us," Tanaka commanded arrogantly, certain she'd obey.

Hiru paled, fists clenched—then slackened as if remembering something.

She started to rise.

A pale hand landed on her shoulder, pressing her back down.

"What can't be said right here in class?"