[So this short noble was the one who bullied the original host?]

My fists clenched tight!

Rock-hard with fury!

Though Yifia hadn’t inherited the original host’s memories—and the System hadn’t forced an empathy module on her—after seeing how the original story ended, she desperately wanted to punch this short noble straight into the air.

After all, the original host had endured a hellish start, yet her life was finally improving.

Then this short noble’s harassment dragged her back into a bottomless abyss.

One mistake after another.

Yifia felt angry at her lack of backbone, sorrowful for her misfortune—but she was just an ordinary girl. Rising from the slums to study at Pris Academy? That took real grit.

Another girl might’ve shattered completely.

But now *she* was Yifia. No replaying that tragedy.

If this short noble dared provoke her? She’d knock his “little bird” clean off.

Disgusted, Yifia couldn’t feign politeness. Lips curled downward, face twisted in revulsion—as if staring at something vile—she rolled her eyes blatantly.

Watching the noble fume, she turned away with quiet satisfaction.

Sure, offending a noble at Pris Academy wasn’t wise… but she wasn’t scared. Could this short noble possibly rival the Villainess Heiress of a duke’s house?

She’d latched onto a “golden thigh”!

…Okay, not *fully* latched yet.

The revolution isn’t over—comrades, keep striving!

“Yifia, sharing a dorm with Eileen means your grades must be stellar! Do your best on the exams—show those nobles what commoners can do!”

Yifia had just shifted attention from the noble when the studious trio fell silent. Fina gazed at her eagerly, thick lenses of her black-rimmed glasses failing to hide her admiration.

Hearing this, Eileen and George turned toward a utterly bewildered Yifia.

At Pris Academy, dorms were assigned by entrance scores. Eileen ranked top three among commoners this year—so Yifia, her roommate, must be talented too.

Even as a newbie, she might stun everyone!

Facing their hopeful stares, Yifia nervously scratched her temple, chuckled awkwardly, and tried to deflect.

*Stop looking.*

*Studying? Not her thing.*

Just as she tried to change the subject—trouble arrived.

“Hmph! What delusions, you paupers? Thinking your shallow roots can surpass nobles? Absurd. Lowly bugs belong underground—not crawling out to annoy us.”

Before Yifia could reply, a shrill voice shattered the calm.

A fashionably dressed noble girl stormed over and *slammed* her fan onto Yifia’s desk—*snap!*—the sharp crack jolting Yifia’s ears.

She rubbed her ear helplessly. Even as an innocent victim, she stole a glance at the fan: *Bare. Nowhere near as lovely as Amelia’s gold-thread embroidered one.*

…Maybe she was just a simple soul. She *loved* gold.

“Brittany, don’t think nobility lets you insult us! Not at Pris Academy! Settle it with exam scores if you dare!”

Yifia stayed calm—but Fina flared up. Even Eileen’s face flushed, teeth clenched like she was ready to fight.

[System, has the plot started?]

[Host, rest assured. It has not.]

Yifia felt a flicker of disappointment. Though it seemed sparked by her, she should’ve stood with them—but truth was, noble-commoner tensions had simmered for ages.

Like a balloon popped with a pin: conflicts everywhere.

And honestly? She was just collateral damage.

She hadn’t even spoken after Fina mistook her for a genius!

Now things spiraled…

“Exam scores? Seriously? You think decent entrance results mean you’ll shine here? Please. We nobles enroll *without* exams.”

Brittany sneered, eyes locked on Yifia.

Normally, she’d never stoop to address “commoner bugs”—but Yifia’s delicate face, curvy figure… *exactly* what men adored. A threat.

Unlike Eileen chasing top rank, Brittany’s goal was clear: become the most popular first-year.

“Noble socialite” wasn’t just an insult.

For a baron’s daughter like her, Pris Academy was a ladder. Marry a high-ranking heir—elevate her status in the Westis Empire.

Men risked lives for rank; women just needed the right husband.

And it worked: beauty brought attention, gifts, favors. So she grew hyper-aware of rivals.

Yifia’s fragile charm? Perfect for triggering men’s protection instincts.

Brittany’s grip tightened on her fan. *This woman must leave. No one blocks my path.*

“Then bet! If a commoner ranks first, you apologize!” Fina cried, face flushed.

Brittany pounced before she could rethink: “You said it! No apology—the loser leaves Pris Academy.”

“Bet accepted! Who’s scared of you?”

“Hmph. Don’t whine like a mangy stray when you lose.”

Just like that, a five-person bet was sealed.

Yifia stared, utterly lost. *Why am I included?!*

She was just an innocent bystander!

…But Eileen was the heroine. She’d overcome anything.

*She’ll be fine.*

After Brittany strutted off like a proud swan, Yifia turned to Fina, hopeful: “Fina, who’s this star student you’re so confident about?”

She expected the heroine’s name. Instead, Fina stammered, avoiding eye contact: “Yifia… I believe *you* and Eileen can beat those nobles! Show them what we’ve got!”

???

Yifia froze.

No reliable candidate?

…Can I back out now?