Last time Yifia entered the villa, she’d admired the decor with leisure—Amelia’s taste truly shone. The elegant, pure-white interior felt bright and airy, accented by freshly cut blue-purple hydrangeas that lifted the spirit.

This time? Her mind was blank.

All she could think was escape.

If only she’d decided faster… she’d be resting in her dorm by now.

Regret drained her completely. Her cute face looked utterly dejected. Even her favorite dessert wouldn’t tempt her… unless they let her go!

Hob, the butler guiding her, was keenly observant. Noting Yifia’s listless expression—like she felt unwell—he decided to speak up. After all, Miss Yifia clearly shared a close bond with Lady Barron. They’d likely meet again.

“Miss Yifia, are you feeling unwell?”

Startled by his sudden question, Yifia blinked. Seeing his sincere look, she darted her eyes and tentatively asked, “After seeing the previous butler at the door… what mistake did he make?”

Though she tried to keep her expression neutral, to Hob—a butler who’d clawed his way to the top—her thoughts were transparent. Even *he’d* shuddered at Nissen’s state. How could this pale, delicate commoner student not be terrified?

Recalling Lady Barron’s regard for Yifia, Hob chose his words carefully. “You mean Nissen?” He paused, mind racing. “He tampered with a vital item from the Duke’s estate. Lady Barron was furious. She meant to imprison him… but Nissen tried to harm her. So—"

“What?! Is Amelia hurt?!”

Hearing someone had laid hands on Amelia, Yifia instantly cast fear aside. System mission or not, Amelia was her genuine friend. Her kindness was real. Her help unforgettable.

All suspicion melted into worry.

Shock flashed across Yifia’s face. Her sluggish steps turned to a light jog. She bypassed Hob entirely, rushing straight to Amelia’s room—the same room Amelia had shown her during afternoon tea. Back then, Yifia had imagined a girl’s room would be sweet and soft, filled with cute trinkets. Instead, it was spotless as a hotel suite, curtains drawn, bathed in dim light.

“Amelia, are you alright?”

Too anxious to knock, Yifia pushed the door open. *Was Amelia hurt? Grieving alone?*

How foolish she’d been! Judging Amelia a villain from the butler’s state—when Amelia was the victim too!

Gunned down, transmigrated into this book world… surrounded by strangers, struggling to eat… Yifia knew no one would coddle her. The “system” was useless. Amelia had reached out—got her into Pris Academy, saved her from expulsion by placing her in the art club. Compared to the female lead Eileen and others, Amelia was an angel.

Guilt swallowed her whole. Tears blurred her vision. Sobs shook her frame. She looked like a abandoned little creature—heartbreakingly pitiful.

Amelia, who’d been lounging in a rattan chair awaiting her “little cutie,” froze at the sight. She rose swiftly, cupped Yifia’s tear-streaked face. Red-rimmed eyes. A flushed, petite nose. Those round almond eyes, glistening like sunlit gems in a stream—radiant, breathtaking.

*So lovely… I wouldn’t mind more tears… but if someone else made her cry? Unforgivable.*

Amelia pulled out a gold-embroidered handkerchief, gently wiping Yifia’s cheeks until the “little kitten” calmed.

“Yifia, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Seeing Amelia unharmed, Yifia’s fear eased—but sobs lingered. She lifted watery eyes, then threw herself into Amelia’s arms, clinging tightly to her waist.

“You’re okay… thank goodness!”

Amelia patted her back softly. Then she spotted Hob arriving breathless, guilt flickering on his face. Her eyes narrowed.

Her violet gaze locked onto him—and flashed crimson.

Hob went utterly still, puppet-like. In an instant, Amelia sifted through his memories of Yifia. *Ah.*

*This new butler… sharp.*

She glanced once more. Hob turned and left, as if he’d never been there.

Amelia looked down at hiccupping Yifia. *This voluntarily delivered “toy” is even more endearing.*

*Worried about me?*

*But I’m the bad guy~*

*The particularly wicked kind.*

Her hand slid from Yifia’s back to her slender neck—smooth as fine white jade, impossibly pleasant to touch.

Her crimson eyes, still unshifted, swirled with blood-deep fervor: madness, cruelty, delight.