Watching Eileen reach toward her for help, Yifia felt like a melon thief caught red-handed.

The real kicker? She hadn’t even stolen a single melon!

Tray of strangely exotic Eastern dishes in hand, Yifia suddenly became the center of every gaze. She stood frozen—pitiful, helpless, and painfully small.

If only she had a few extra legs… then she could’ve slipped away faster!

While Yifia silently cursed herself for glancing Eileen’s way, Eileen ignored her distress entirely. Like a drowning girl clutching a lifeline, she clung desperately to Yifia, fighting to save herself.

Eileen had already spent her last coin on exams. Now penniless, she couldn’t afford compensation. Nobles demanded steep prices—and money alone might not soothe their pride. Life at Pris Academy would turn miserable, constantly targeted. Most nobles there were arrogant snobs who formed cliques to bully defiant commoners. Students who drew their ire usually ended up withdrawing.

Yifia, however, was close to wealthy nobles and financially comfortable. Since they shared a dorm… wasn’t a quick emergency loan reasonable?

“Yifia! I’m done—let’s hurry and try the new dishes!”

Lucy finally pushed through the crowd, tray in hand. The moment she reached Yifia, she sensed something wrong. Glancing around, she spotted Eileen’s predicament.

Though timid, Lucy didn’t flee. She stood firmly beside Yifia.

But Yifia didn’t want to drag her friend into this storm. Under dozens of stares, she couldn’t speak—only blinked urgently at Lucy: *Run!*

If she could, she’d run too.

Yet after dorming together so long, Yifia knew Eileen wouldn’t let go easily. If she fled… Eileen might escalate things. Maybe even bring others to their room.

Still, Yifia couldn’t fathom it: a commoner with emptier pockets than her face was clean—what help could she possibly be?

To get beaten up together?

She’d fully accepted her penniless identity. She had no power to help.

So don’t force heroics. It’d only backfire.

Unaware she’d accidentally hinted at wealth back in the dorm, Yifia never acted haughty just for being friends with Amelia. Even as a third-gen rich kid, she never bullied others or strutted like a crab… Were manga not fun? Were games not addictive?

Overprotected since childhood, her life stayed peaceful. Her rebellious phase was quiet. Slow? Maybe. But honest and trouble-free—she’d even become the legendary “other people’s child,” held up to shame rowdy kids. Elders always greeted her with warm smiles.

Smooth path, kind friends, no money worries, no career stress—just enjoy life!

No wonder she’d grown so laid-back.

“Hey! *You* spilled food on my dress—why call for help now?”

Before Lucy could be shooed away, the stained noble spoke up. She didn’t redirect anger. She turned full fury on Eileen.

“You messed up and won’t apologize? Waiting for *me* to say sorry?”

“Or is this commoner ‘etiquette’? Honestly…”

“Speak! Are you mute? How will you fix this?”

As the noble pressed relentlessly, silent Yifia actually thought: *She’s right.*

Eileen dirtied the dress. Normal protocol? Apologize first.

Instead, she stayed silent, feigned terror, then shifted focus the moment she saw Yifia… Good grief. Was this book’s female lead *this* problematic?

She’d seemed so normal before!

*Is this really the heroine? What were the author’s values?!*

Yifia felt suffocated. Eileen’s plain face + forced “pure-and-helpless” act didn’t evoke sympathy—it felt like a clumsy, pathetic imitation.

What did Prince Caroy even see in her?

Judging by looks, Yifia was baffled—and shocked. Maybe the plot wasn’t so simple.

Unless Prince Caroy had a screw loose, uniquely fond of Eileen’s bland, watery vibe.

[System: What trashy novel world did you drop me into? Do readers actually like this heroine?]

[System: Host, don’t doubt. Someone always likes this taste.]

The system flipped the script, confused—then realized the plot had shifted.

After spotting the Gorin glass bowl in the dorm, Eileen suspected Yifia’s link to Prince Caroy. That’s why she’d been watching Yifia closely. Seeing her leave quickly with Lucy, Eileen followed.

Turns out Yifia was just eating. Dejected, Eileen bought food too—but distracted by thoughts of Yifia and the prince, she dropped her tray near the second-floor entrance. Timeline advanced ten minutes. In the original plot, *someone else’s* clothes got stained.

And the heroine apologized immediately—not like now!

The system confirmed: attitude changed, *and* the victim changed!

Should’ve been Sarine—not Daphne!

Compared to the unreasonable, commoner-hating Sarine, Daphne was calm and rational.

So she instantly called out the lack of apology. Meanwhile, Eileen spotted the “idiot host,” hoping to use her… The system sighed. Why did plots warp whenever this host appeared?

Now the story had diverged. What came next? Unknown.

…At least it wasn’t Sarine. Should be fine, right?

“Classmate, I’m truly sorry. It was my carelessness.”

Breaking silence, Eileen bowed deeply, eyes reddened, hoping to calm the storm.

Earlier, her mind hadn’t snapped back after the bump—too late to apologize promptly. Panicked, she’d spotted Yifia and called for help.

She’d expected Yifia to step in. But Yifia just stood there, playing dumb.

No regard for shared class or dorm.

*She must feel superior now that the prince favors her…*

Heart aching, Eileen just wanted to vanish—to some quiet corner to breathe.

“Oh, dear Daphne! What happened?”

A voice rang from the cafeteria entrance, flamboyant tone drawing stares.

Feather fan in hand—the noble accessory—Daphne sighed wearily:

“Sarine, a commoner splashed food all over me. How utterly unlucky.”