"Creak…"
The dormitory door opened softly as Lunivara stepped inside, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.
[Finally… somewhere without eyes watching every move.]
"Welcome back, milady," Clara's voice greeted gently.
Lunivara glanced at her.
For a brief second… her expression softened.
"…You're still here."
Clara blinked, then smiled faintly. "Of course."
[Good… at least one thing in this world is stable.]
The next morning—
"Tick… tick… tick…"
The academy clock echoed faintly.
Lunivara walked alone.
No Clara.
No protection.
No second chances.
Only whispers.
"Whisper… whisper…"
"Isn't that Morcant's daughter?"
"She looks different today…"
[Different? Already? I barely did anything.]
She ignored them and entered her classroom.
The room was filled with students her age.
Seventeen.
Same level. Same expectations.
Same… judgment.
Her eyes scanned the room once—
And stopped.
Pink hair.
Purple eyes.
Velarisse Thyselle.
[So this is where she belongs.]
Not above.
Not below.
Right here.
Among them.
Lunivara walked to her seat calmly.
No greetings.
No unnecessary attention.
Just control.
"Slide…"
A chair moved nearby.
Velarisse stood beside her desk.
"Good morning," she said softly.
Lunivara looked up.
"…Good morning."
A short pause.
Velarisse hesitated.
Then—
"…Have we met before?"
"Thump."
Lunivara's fingers stilled.
[There it is.]
Not recognition.
Not memory.
Just… a feeling.
Like something was missing.
She tilted her head slightly.
"I don't believe so."
Velarisse frowned—just a little.
"…I see."
But she didn't move immediately.
Her eyes lingered.
As if trying to grasp something just out of reach.
[She feels it.]
Not the past.
Not the truth.
Just the absence of something that should be there.
Velarisse finally stepped back.
"Sorry… that was strange of me."
She returned to her seat.
But even from behind—
She looked… distracted.
"Tap… tap…"
Lunivara's fingers moved lightly against the desk.
[Interesting.]
Everyone else sees me as a villain.
But her…
She doesn't see me clearly at all.
The classroom noise rose again.
Chairs scraping. Papers shifting.
Normal.
Too normal.
[And that's the problem.]
Outside the window, the wind passed softly—
"Whoosh…"
Lunivara leaned slightly back in her chair, eyes half-lidded.
[If this world is following the story… then sooner or later…]
Her gaze drifted toward the door.
[Something will go wrong.]
And this time—
She would be ready.