Emily's words stumbled out, awkward and fragile. Lucy watched her with calm indifference.
But as Emily stuttered, something dark flickered in Lucy's eyes.
A twisted smile tugged at her lips.
So easy to break…
"Okay, class—that's it for today," the teacher announced, grabbing his notes and walking out of the room.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Lucy rested her chin on her palm. Her red eyes scanned the classroom lazily.
Across the room, Claire met the gaze of the yellow-haired girl from earlier.
Without a word, Claire raised her hand and made a slicing motion across her throat—smiling all the while.
The yellow-haired girl—Isla—smirked in reply. She stood up and swaggered over to Emily's desk aggressively.
Lucy's eyes followed her, expression dull, almost bored.
So this bitch is one of those bitches...
It'll be fun breaking her will.
Her brow furrowed slightly as a stray thought crossed her mind.
Ah, but why did he tell me to play the victim? What a terrible plan...
She sighed inwardly, but said nothing.
Isla slammed her hand down on Emily's desk with a nasty grin.
"Well, well. Did you drink the bottle I gave you yesterday?"
Emily tensed like a frightened deer.
"I-Isla… I told you b-back then that I wouldn't…"
Her voice faded into a whisper as she lowered her head. Isla leaned in, eyes narrowing with menace.
"You didn't drink it?" she sneered. "Do you want to get beaten?"
She raised her hand, fingers curling into a fist midair.
Emily flinched instinctively, eyes squeezed shut.
But the blow never came.
Isla froze.
Her eyes shifted—and met Lucy's gaze.
A chill shot down her spine.
Lucy wasn't smiling anymore.
Her red eyes were sharp Cold. The kind of gaze that stripped away your body and laid your soul bare.
Isla's arm faltered in the air.
Her breath caught.
She took an unconscious step back—her heart hammering for no reason she could explain.
Meanwhile, across the city...
Daneal sat alone on a luxurious leather sofa, staring silently at a framed photograph in his hand.
A soft smile ghosted his lips as he brushed a finger over the image.
A knock interrupted the quiet.
Knock knock.
He leaned back, exhaling deeply, and stared at the ceiling.
Another sigh slipped from him before he rose to answer.
Opening the door, he came face to face with a middle-aged man in a doctor's coat.
"What do you want, Doctor Charlie?" Daneal asked, voice flat and tired.
The doctor frowned, clearly impatient.
"Where is she? We had a deal. I cure her madness, and you let me experiment on her body."
Daneal's gaze darkened. Calmly he replied,
"When did you cure her? She's still the same. The first thing she thinks of is killing."
Charlie scoffed.
"Come on, you're exaggerating. I already did my best. Now she only thinks about killing. She used to think about torturing first, then killing."
Daneal's eyes narrowed.
"She was in your care for three years. And yet, nothing changed. What did you even learn?"
The doctor stammered, his confidence faltering.
"I-I… I…"
Daneal narrowed his eyes at the stammering man in the lab coat.
His voice dropped,
"If you have nothing more to say, then leave. And don't bring this matter up again."
Without waiting for a reply, he shut the door.
Charlie stood frozen outside, staring at the closed door with clenched fists. His expression twisted with frustration,
Inside, Daneal returned to the living room and dropped into the sofa. He buried his face in his hands, leaning back with a long, exhausted sigh.
How should I deal with the President now…?
His thoughts raced.
If Lucy sticks to the plan, maybe we'll make it out. But if she snaps again...
He didn't finish the thought.
Back at the school...
Isla's throat tightened as Lucy's eyes bored into her. A bead of sweat trailed down her temple. Still, she forced a scowl onto her face and crossed her arms in defiance.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" she snapped.
Lucy's lips curled into a slow, amused sneer.
"What were you about to do just now?" she asked, voice deceptively soft.
Isla scoffed, trying to regain control of the moment.
"It's none of your business. Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."
Lucy didn't reply immediately. Instead, she turned her head slightly and glanced at Emily, who sat frozen with her gaze locked on the floor.
Lucy gently placed a hand on Emily's trembling shoulder.
"Well," Lucy said, her tone turning ice-cold, "she is my deskmate now. So yes… it is my business."
The air in the classroom tightened.
Another girl approached Isla from behind—this one with striking blue-dyed hair and a sharp glare in her eyes.
"You've got guts, huh?" she growled. "Think you can just talk back to Isla and act like a hero?"
She jabbed a finger toward Lucy.
"You think you'll live comfortably in this class now? Keep dreaming. We'll make your life worse than hers."
She pointed straight at Emily without a shred of remorse.
Across the room, Claire's smile faded.
Her eyes sharpened as she watched the confrontation unfold.
This new girl… she really doesn't know her place.
Looks like she needs to be punished...