The next morning, Loko jolted awake at a knock on the door.

"Loko, it's almost time for the opening ceremony. Are you still asleep?"

Hearing Shilufei's faint voice, Loko bolted upright—then winced as a sharp pain flooded her mind.

*She must have overslept.*

The backlash hit instantly: a throbbing ache pulsed through her skull, yet her thoughts were crystal clear.

No reply came. Shilufei, growing worried, pushed the door open.

She found Loko just sitting up, blanket tossed aside. Shilufei sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

*If I hadn't reminded her, she'd have missed the most important event of freshman day.*

"Loko, hurry up and get ready. I'll wait downstairs."

Without waiting for an answer, she closed the door.

Loko scrambled out of bed, rushing through dressing and washing.

Downstairs, Shilufei heard the hurried footsteps above and let out a quiet sigh.

Ten minutes later, Loko stepped out of the dorm—clothes slightly rumpled, a slice of bread clamped between her teeth.

Ahead, Shilufei walked at a relaxed pace.

Loko finished the dry bread bit by bit while keeping close beside her.

Having explored most of the academy the day before, Shilufei knew the route to the ceremony hall like the back of her hand.

Leaving the dorm zone, they joined a growing stream of uniformed students heading the same way.

At the hall entrance, Shilufei suddenly stopped.

Loko froze. Then Shilufei stepped forward and reached toward her collar.

Loko flinched—but Shilufei’s fingers had already smoothed the flipped fabric.

After a quick once-over, Shilufei nodded in satisfaction.

"You rushed out, didn’t you? Your clothes were messy."

Loko’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Just then, Teresa—surrounded by a cluster of girls—caught sight of Shilufei adjusting Loko’s collar right before entering.

Her expression darkened. Jaw tight, she strode swiftly inside.

Loko, wholly focused on Shilufei, noticed none of it.

"Haa..."

Inside the hall, listening to the principal’s stiff, cliché-laden speech, Loko stifled a yawn.

"Couldn’t his speech be a *little* more original?"

All that "serve country and family," empty idealism. Maybe inspiring to the naive—but to most, pure formalism.

Shilufei shot her an amused glance.

*She knows Loko’s closeness is likely an act... yet the everyday Loko is genuinely endearing. At least, if those words were sincere, they’d be rather charming.*

"Well, he *is* the principal. From his position, he can only say such things."

"Ah... yeah."

Loko nodded and joined the polite applause.

After the principal came the student representative, then the freshman speaker.

A graceful brunette in a fourth-year black uniform ascended the stage—met with thunderous cheers from the boys below.

"This must be Senior Haya, the student council president re-elected three times, right?" Shilufei murmured.

Loko gave a slight nod.

*She’s of the York Family. Even with strained ties to Miss Teresa, I must show proper respect. No more carelessness.*

A faint, icy glint flickered in Shilufei’s eyes. She turned her gaze firmly to the stage, silent.

Haya’s speech was simple—warm wishes for newcomers.

"This is my fourth year standing at this podium," she said near the end, voice tinged with nostalgia.

"Remembering my first day feels like yesterday... yet time flies. I hope the coming year brings us all a fulfilling academy life together."

No explicit campaigning—but her intent was unmistakable: she aimed to hold her position once more.

When the freshman representative’s turn arrived, Loko sat ramrod straight.

*She knows someone’s been watching her the whole time.*

Teresa glided to the podium. Her gaze swept the crowd, lingering on Loko for a heartbeat before moving on.

Meeting those eyes, Loko recalled yesterday’s words.

True to form, Teresa cleared her throat twice.

"...The new generation is the future. Like saplings—if overshadowed by a mighty tree and denied sunlight, they’ll spend their lives in shadow..."

Silence. Then murmurs. Many turned to glance at Haya in the back row.

Haya didn’t need to see the looks. Her face tightened; anger flashed in her eyes.

Yet Teresa’s speech carried such conviction that the applause she received drowned out Haya’s entirely.

Defeat washed over Haya. Fists clenched, her stare locked onto Teresa.

Before sitting, Teresa turned back—offering Haya a faint, knowing smile.

Haya’s tension melted. She unclenched her hands, calm returning.

*She wanted me angry. Deliberately contradicted me in public.*

*My little sister... truly turned the tables this time.*

"Interesting," Haya murmured. "Let’s see what waves you can stir."

...

The rest of the ceremony felt bland by comparison. As students filed out, clusters formed—buzzing about the York Family sisters’ clash.

Wherever people gather, drama-lovers thrive—especially gossip-hungry youths.

Fabricated conflicts would surely surface soon... and likely blow into full-blown rumors.