The city’s missing persons case had just surfaced, with few details released—so the topic died quickly. To stop the love-struck Fina from gushing, the girls hastily tossed out a new subject.
They chatted about yet another noble student at Pris Academy bullying a commoner, beating him until bleeding and bruised. Shockingly, the teachers merely swept it under the rug, and the matter vanished without resolution.
In the Westis Empire, class divisions ran deep. The unequal treatment at Pris Academy was just a tiny reflection of society.
Still, the young commoner students had seen too little of the world.
They clung to rosy hopes for the future.
Believing that no matter how exalted nobles were, commoners deserved basic rights—and talent would always be recognized!
Frustrated by academy restrictions, they dreamed of good jobs after graduation to escape this bitter discrimination.
Eileen and the others’ gossip session ended swiftly as topics ran dry. They parted with promises to meet again.
Before leaving, Fina stole one reluctant glance at Yifia. She burned with frustration at not sharing her love story with Ronnie—but with Eileen watching, she could do nothing.
Another time, then.
Silence settled over the dorm once the girls left.
Yifia finally set down her novel and pulled out the hidden caramel pudding. So delighted by the card earlier, she’d forgotten this little treasure!
She lifted the lid, took the delicate silver spoon, and scooped a generous bite into her mouth.
So delicious!!!
Beyond its lovely appearance, the pudding’s silky texture and caramel’s sweet aroma created pure magic.
Rich. Velvety. Sweet. Soul-warming.
If rating it: 99 points for Amelia’s chef—the missing point kept him humble!
The moment the lid opened, the rich scent bloomed. Eileen, mid-study, glanced up—and froze at the glass bowl.
Delicate form. Brilliant hues.
Gorin glassware!
She remembered it vividly: during a Pris Academy horse race, Prince Caroy drank from a cup of this very material at halftime. Nobles beside her had watched with naked envy.
Crafted by master artisans, Gorin glass was famed for its fragile thinness—and staggering cost. Prices started in gold coins. Higher specs meant steeper prices.
That outrageous memory flared now. Seeing Yifia hold the same glassware… just for dessert… Eileen’s fingers tightened around her book until the pages crumpled. Jealousy and resentment smoldered deep in her eyes.
Both were commoner students at Pris Academy—why was Yifia so lucky?
Just because she was pretty?
While Eileen worried over a single silver coin, Yifia lived without a care.
This Gorin glass alone proved her noble friend held high status—and immense wealth.
Few nobles at Pris Academy fit that description… unless Yifia had hooked up with Prince Caroy!!!
The thought made Eileen’s anger feel tangible, hot enough to burn Yifia to ashes.
Eileen’s stare grew too intense. Even Yifia, lost in dessert bliss, noticed. She looked up, hands instinctively shielding the pudding.
“Eileen, is there something you’d like to say?”
Chatting? Fine. Sharing? Absolutely not.
This caramel pudding, specially sent by Amelia, was meant for her stomach alone—no dormmate generosity here!
“Nothing,” Eileen said smoothly, forcing a smile. Coveting the pudding was the least of it; she craved the noble’s identity.
Relief washed over Yifia. With an extra-sweet grin, she beamed, “Yes! She’s wonderful—the best friend ever!”
System task or not, Yifia unilaterally declared Amelia her irreplaceable best friend. No future friend could ever replace her.
Heart swelling, she scooped another blissful bite.
“Is she the noble lady you mentioned in class?” Eileen probed casually.
Yifia’s brow furrowed slightly.
Why bring *that* up?
Eileen was the one who’d accused her of skipping curfew, forcing a public explanation… Now digging up old drama? Actively seeking discomfort? Did the female lead’s brain glitch?
“Mm.”
A reluctant reply. Yifia turned away to savor her pudding. Eileen bristled at the brush-off but couldn’t pry further.
Left alone with tangled thoughts, her study plans lay forgotten.
…
Yifia slacked off in class for two more days, resisting the urge to visit Amelia—to preserve the surprise. Finally, after school, she declined Lucy and Jesina’s study invite and hurried excitedly to Corifine Street.
She collected her custom wok from the blacksmith, bought vegetables and spices from pre-scouted shops, and spent most of her coin—reluctantly stopping only when her purse felt light.
Before leaving, she bought a delicate gift box.
Alone for a moment, she slipped the Pris Academy commemorative gold coin inside, tied a pretty bow, and tucked it into her pocket.
Everything ready, she carried the wok and ingredients toward Amelia’s residence, heart fluttering.
“Miss Yifia, good day!”
Butler Hibbert greeted her near the villa. Yifia smiled back. “Hello, Butler Hibbert. Feeling better?”
Since their last meeting, he’d been pale and frail-looking, as if gravely ill—but now nearly recovered.
“Thanks to your concern, nearly fully well. Here to see Lady Barron?”
“Mm!”
“She’s having tea in the parlor. Shall I show you?”
“No need—I’ll find my way.”
Yifia waved him off, entered with her sack, and soon spotted Amelia: elegantly dressed, sipping coffee with quiet grace, a faint thoughtful expression on her lovely face.
Hearing footsteps, Amelia looked up. A subtle smile touched her lips. She set down her cup, violet eyes locking gently on Yifia.
“Yifia,” she said leisurely, “did you have fun with your new friends?”
