“Top of the year? Yifia, even if your grades are excellent, you’ve just enrolled at Pris Academy and haven’t even reviewed the textbooks yet. Isn’t it a bit premature to say that?”

Eileen silently scoffed but kept quiet. George, standing nearby, was a different story.

He pushed up the black-rimmed glasses on his nose. His previously dull face shifted instantly—sharp, sarcastic, a stark contrast to his usual silence. His narrow eyes glinted with suspicion.

In this class, George and Fina had befriended the female lead Eileen not only due to their commoner status but also solid grades, just slightly below hers.

Every top student craved outstanding results.

Even if Eileen claimed first place instead of Yifia, George would still seethe with envy, wondering why *he* couldn’t be the one.

After all, he was no worse than her.

George wasn’t like Fina—the boy-crazy fool. Since entering Pris Academy, he’d mapped his path: graduate with honors, earn ennoblement.

For now, he and Eileen were merely study partners.

Not just Eileen eyed the top spot—George did too. Even Fina, love-struck as she was, aimed for first to win the golden commemorative coin and impress a guy… Thus, the trio studied like crazy: comrades, yet rivals.

Then Yifia appeared—an unknown—shattering their balance with a single sentence.

“Only three days left. Let the scores speak.”

Yifia shrugged off George’s doubt, in no hurry to prove herself.

With her System—a super cheat tool—claiming first place would be effortless.

Yet her nonchalance only deepened the trio’s wariness. Seeing her lazy, dismissive air, they dropped further questioning.

*Bring it on.*

They refused to believe years of hard study couldn’t beat a newcomer.

“Eileen, you still haven’t lent me money! Just five silver coins—I won’t ask for more.”

While the trio retreated, Yifia pressed on.

Broke and earnest, she persisted. *What if she actually lends it?*

With only two coins left, even one would feel like victory.

Eileen, genuinely startled by Yifia’s insistence, instinctively covered her pocket, breath hitching slightly.

After lending money to Fina yesterday, her funds were nearly gone.

The remaining four coins were saved for last year’s exam papers. Though Pris Academy exams changed yearly, each teacher’s style stayed consistent. Studying them always yielded insights.

Past papers cost three coins each—but Eileen had calculated: cafeteria meals were cheap, dorm was free. One coin would cover basics.

Without Fina’s bet with Brittany and Yifia’s disruption, she’d never have spent on papers. Now, she was determined: *I must win first place.*

Even Prince Caroy took a backseat.

Those papers were her shortcut. She would *not* lend Yifia a coin.

Eileen steadied her nerves, voice trembling with practiced emotion: “Yifia… you weren’t here yesterday. I’ve already lent all my money to Fina.”

One glance at Eileen’s act told Yifia it was hopeless.

*Guess I’ll keep relying on Amelia…* She licked her lips, savoring the memory of delicious desserts.

“Oh? What a pity.”

Yifia played along with exaggerated innocence—so cringey even the secretly observing System wanted to look away.

*The Host is only sweet around the Villainess Heiress. Otherwise? A shameless trickster.*

“No worries! I’ll just stay with a friend a few more days!”

Yifia’s words ended the standoff. Calm returned to the classroom.

Fina fretted over unpaid debts; Eileen and George dove back into revision, eyes locked on the crown.

But the onlookers lingered, eyes sparkling as they studied Yifia. *So cute… and a prodigy too?*

At Pris Academy, every exam was a silent battlefield.

Victors earned awe.

And towering above all legends? Baron Amalia—unmatched, past or future.

“Hi Yifia! I’m Lucy. We didn’t get to meet properly yesterday.”

“I’m Carlin.”

While Eileen’s group buried themselves in books, Yifia became the center of attention.

Surrounded by curious girls, she smiled warmly during introductions. She was kind to those with no malice.

Mid-conversation, her gaze snagged on Brittany rushing in.

Unlike yesterday’s arrogance, Brittany was pale, glancing around nervously—as if hiding something shameful.

Then—*venom*.

She glared at Yifia, blue eyes blazing with hatred, as if Yifia had desecrated her ancestors’ graves.

*Huh? What did I do?*

…Ah. Yesterday’s short noble—the one she’d kicked—had brandished a vial of “secret medicine, kindly provided by Brittany.”

And he’d reaped exactly what he sowed.

*So… something happened to him?*

Hehehehe.

*Extremely satisfying.*

*Hope he gets what’s coming to him!*

Heart light, Yifia slacked off all morning. At dismissal, she waved goodbye to new friends and slipped down a narrow path toward the shrubs to meet Amelia.

Keeping their bond secret meant staying discreet—or she’d drown in envious stares.

Smiling, steps quickening—

Two burly men blocked her path.

Yifia’s brow furrowed. *Not good…*

“That bitch! Grab her!”

The short noble’s face twisted in rage, finger jabbing toward Yifia as he snarled at his thugs.