Yifia was utterly bewildered.

She glanced at Amelia’s gentle smile, then back at the stern club president. Something about this situation felt… slightly off.

Wasn’t she supposed to join the art club through connections?

How had it turned into being a nude model?

Maybe she’d misunderstood. To confirm, Yifia asked carefully, “President… you mean, to join the art club, I must become your exclusive model?”

“Though titled ‘exclusive model,’ officially, you’ll be recognized as a club member. Rest assured—only the three of us know. No leaks.”

It wasn’t about worry.

This had already crossed the line of reasonable service!

Hearing her suspicion confirmed, Yifia slumped. Her lips pressed tight; the usual sparkle in her lively black eyes dimmed, wilting like an eggplant in the sun.

She didn’t nod. Her mind wavered, torn.

Yes, being Amelia’s exclusive model meant more contact—helpful for her mission.

But a model? A *nude* one? She couldn’t do it.

It just felt… weird.

“Yifia,” the president said politely, “I’ll await your reply by tomorrow afternoon.” He saw her out without pressure.

Adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses, he watched Amelia quietly soothe Yifia. His usual aloofness vanished instantly.

*How interesting.*

No wonder Amelia pushed for this—it was all for this peculiar girl.

What charm had won Amelia over?

Curiosity flickered in his eyes—until Amelia suddenly looked up.

Violet eyes icy. Face unreadable.

A bone-deep chill seized him. Like falling into an ice cave. Like prey locked onto by a beast.

He forced a stiff smile, deliberately looked away. *Curiosity killed the cat. For my life’s sake—mind my own business.*

Truly, the pressure from Amelia, heiress of the Barren Family, was lethal.

After silencing the president’s curiosity, Amelia led Yifia to an empty art club room. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “This was the only way.”

She’d expected eager agreement. Hesitation surprised her.

Had Yifia sensed this was all her doing?

Unlikely.

Amelia’s face showed concern, but her violet eyes gleamed with quiet interest.

“Amelia, I don’t blame you,” Yifia said quickly, seeing her guilt. “It’s just… modeling is one thing. Being nude… feels strange.”

She remembered Eileen’s words: joining the art club was near impossible. Amelia had already done so much. News of her entry would spark envy.

*Sigh.*

It wasn’t prudishness.

It was… shyness. Being nude *in front of Amelia*.

Don’t be fooled by her bold system promises—Yifia was all talk, zero action. A giant in words, a dwarf in deeds.

Scratching her nose sheepishly, she whispered, “Amelia… do I really have to… be nude… as your model?”

“Don’t overthink it. Just a temporary measure.” Amelia smiled, gently clasping her hand. Sincerity shone in her violet eyes. “Mostly for show. Yifia… don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do!”

Maybe she *was* being fussy.

Seeing Amelia’s effort, Yifia’s heart warmed. For the first time, the “useless” system felt worthwhile. Without its push to befriend the Villainess Heiress, this bond wouldn’t exist. The system was their friendship’s witness!

“Amelia, I’ll join. I promise.”

Relief lifted her mood—until her stomach let out a loud *gurgle*.

Blushing, she covered her belly. Lunch hadn’t been enough.

“Yifia… join me for afternoon tea? Just us.”

“Absolutely.”

After all Amelia did, she’d cook a feast if asked!

Guided by Amelia, Yifia felt like a kid in a candy store.

A rectangular table held silver platters: macarons, shortbread, mousse cakes, fluffy fruit pancakes. Pure bliss.

A servant poured rich, fragrant tea—smooth and delicious.

*Sniffle.* Amelia was truly a golden patron to rely on!

Her three-silver-coin red velvet cupcake at lunch? Pitiful next to these.

Savoring a bite, Yifia’s eyes crinkled shut. Dimples peeked; her black eyes sparkled as she beamed at Amelia. “Once I’m rich, I’ll cook you a whole feast!”

Truth was, Yifia failed at most things—but cooking? She never quit. Natural talent.

Her wealthy family deemed kitchen work “too strenuous,” so she only learned the family’s secret imperial recipes from Grandpa. Holiday dishes felt like performing to delight her elders ￣へ￣

Still… her skills were legit.

Why wait till she’s rich?

In the Westis Empire, exotic Eastern spices cost a fortune. Rare vegetables? Even pricier. All needed coin.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Amelia smiled.

After tea, spotting the butler approaching, Yifia took her leave politely. She didn’t see Amelia’s smile vanish the moment she turned—replaced by glacial frost aimed at the butler.

Strolling back, Yifia savored the happy fullness.

[Warning: Host in danger. Exercise caution!]

Before reaching her dorm, Yifia scanned the path. Trees. Flowers. No threat?

The system, impatient, highlighted a red-bordered outline. *If not for the Villainess Heiress’s unusual care… I wouldn’t bother.*

Yifia squinted.

Well, well. Hiding in the bushes—*that* pint-sized noble.

Ambushing *her*?

Hmph. Heaven’s gate stood open… yet you barged straight into hell.

Time to bring out the big guns.