The rest of the journey out of the slums passed without incident, and they soon reached the bustling street entrance.

Guilt over doubting Amelia kept Yifia from even considering escape.

But as they were about to part—why was Amelia still holding her hand?

Amelia’s palms were slightly cool, yet fair and smooth. Her slender fingers felt like polished jade—so pleasant to touch!

Being girls was nice; hand-holding came without judgment.

Two men doing the same would’ve been called gay.

Yifia’s emotions were always plain on her face—thoughts visible, no guessing needed. Her clear gaze held an endearing, slightly clueless charm.

True, it robbed Amelia of the fun of toying with hearts… but who could resist such cuteness?

Beautiful people always earned special favor.

“My cute little bird,” Amelia murmured, “I look forward to our next meeting.”

Amid the flowing crowd, Amelia met Yifia’s gaze. A faint smile lifted her lips—aristocratic grace shifting instantly from warm to aloof.

An untouchable distance settled around her.

Yet her shimmering violet eyes crinkled with warmth, like wine swirling in a crystal glass, intoxicating and dizzying.

So when Amelia raised their joined hands and pressed a kiss to Yifia’s knuckles, Yifia felt not a trace of offense.

Amelia’s lashes lowered; the gentle warmth of her lips left Yifia’s head spinning.

By the time Yifia blinked back to awareness, Amelia was already stepping into the carriage. The vehicle shrank to a speck, then vanished.

She had come without warning—and left just as silently.

Had Yifia not felt the solid weight in her palm, she might’ve thought hunger conjured a dream.

She uncurled her fist. Two gold coins and a perfectly round pearl gleamed in the sunlight—a parting gift.

*Had she stared too obviously at the pearl on Amelia’s dress earlier…?*

Blushing, Yifia tucked the pearl away carefully, then beamed at the coins. Time to spend!

Never having worried about money as a pampered rich kid, Yifia embraced joy as her creed. Off she dashed to shop.

First: swap the frayed linen dress and ragged cloth shoes.

Guided by the shop assistant, she slipped into a soft cotton floral dress and white embroidered shoes. Drabness melted into brightness.

The kind clerk even tied her hair into a neat bun with a matching ribbon.

Stepping out, Yifia’s eyes lit up at the nearby restaurant.

*Money joy is the best joy~*

Munching a sandwich, she briefly regretted the coin left under the tree. Others frequented the slum spring—someone surely took it.

*Hope no one screamed at the corpse…*

But one lost coin? She now had two~

Double the joy!

After eating her way down the street, she checked into an inn with one gold, four silver, and scattered coppers left—enough to last.

Declining snacks, she flopped onto the bed in a starfish sprawl, rolling happily.

Compared to a newspaper “bed,” this was heaven.

*If only this could last…*

Sighing, Yifia sat up and summoned the glitchy system.

[System, how do I enroll at Pris Academy?]

Amelia wasn’t the cruel Villainess Heiress she’d feared—gentle, even kind. Befriending her felt safe. *Mission: acceptable!*

Plus… the slums were deadly. That drug-ravaged corpse? Common. Her fair skin and gender made her prey.

She’d left the moment she could.

Her delicate appearance was a feast for hungry eyes.

Pris Academy meant safety—from slum dangers, at least.

Risks awaited with the main cast… but Yifia had decided: *I’m clinging to Amelia’s leg!!!*

[Yifia was admitted to Pris Academy one month ago. Tuition waived for commoners, but unpaid fees delayed enrollment. Host must report within three days or lose student status.]

[…]

Yifia expected little from this trash system—but skipping *this* warning? Unforgivable.

Pouting, she typed faster.

[I’m accepting the “Become Friends” mission and heading to Pris Academy. Time to spill plot details!]

[Stop playing dead. Silence = I abandon the mission and go full slacker.]

[I’d rather starve on my own terms than die confused!]

Her ultimatum hit true.

[Plot involving main characters and Villainess Heiress is restricted. But Yifia’s personal ending is available. Prepare to receive.]

*Fine. Something’s better than nothing.*

Yifia lay back, eyes closed.

Information shards flooded her mind.

Scenes flashed like a carousel.

Ten seconds later, her smile vanished.

She jolted upright, round eyes wide with terror, gasping. Cold sweat slicked her brow.

Ignoring the damp shirt, she screamed inwardly:

[System! Get out here! DAMN IT! Yifia’s ending is… dying from hemorrhage after being gang-raped while pregnant out of wedlock???]