"What do you think?" Anya smiled—rare, unsettling, like someone tossing an ice cube down your spine.
Luna's eyes dipped, fleeting venom flashing beneath the surface, but her face wore the fragile mask of a wounded child. She stole glances at Ethan, like a cat eyeing a predator she dared not confront.
Neither Anya nor Ethan said a word. Silence stretched between them like taffy—sticky, uncomfortable.
Anya's expression screamed, almost literally: Start your performance.
Luna bit her lower lip until it hurt, her face threatening to freeze, yet the person she wanted to hear from remained silent.
Damn Anya. If she hadn't wanted to meet Master Ethan, she wouldn't have come near her.
Finally, she whispered, hesitant, "Sister… who is this?"
"None of your business," Anya spat. Sharp. End of discussion.
Luna froze. She had nothing to say—red-hot humiliation, being called out in front of a man? Not fun.
Her eyes shimmered like molten ruby, and then she looked from Ethan back to Anya. "Anya, I thought you were my sister! And you… treat me like this?! I will never care about you again!"
And then she ran, crying.
Anya let out a faint, silent laugh.
From afar, Flynn watched Luna bolt, glanced at Anya, then shrugged and left too.
"She's…?" Ethan asked, though he already knew.
Anya turned her gaze lazily from Flynn. "Drama queen. Honestly, the world owes her an Oscar."
Ethan raised an eyebrow—half curiosity, half amusement.
"How did you end up here?" Anya asked, her voice cool but pulse skipping.
Ethan smiled, teasing. "What do you think?"
Anya stiffened. Instincts screaming. Eyes darting. Luke and two bodyguards behind him were suddenly… there. "Who. Are. You?"
She felt out of her element—this world, this timeline. Her memories might be hers, but her body, her context… tiny, limited, claustrophobic.
She needed to know everything. Intelligence. Information. The road looked like… hell, I dunno, like someone tried to pave a war.
And this guy being here? Coincidence. One glance wasn't enough. No advantage. No reason.
"Remember," Ethan said deliberately, "my name is Ethan."
Just a name. Not identity. But weighty.
Anya knew he wasn't ordinary. Lucian's reaction earlier had said enough. She didn't need trouble. Too much trouble.
"I have class."
"You think it matters if you go?" Ethan teased.
She knew he mocked her. Everyone knew Anya was the worst of F-Class.
"Rules exist for a reason. Order is essential. You either follow or get flattened."
Following rules was instinct. Discipline. Even if she bent morals to win, obedience was non-negotiable.
"I'll pick you up after school." Ethan's hand slid in his pocket, trousers crisp. Lips curved, smirk teasing. Calm. Irreverent. Slightly dangerous.
Anya frowned, confused. She turned toward the F-Class classroom.
A few steps in… Ethan suddenly called her:
"Ye Weiguo."
The name, usually mundane, now rolled off his tongue like… velvet wrapped around a dagger. Weirdly nice.
Luke and the bodyguards paled. Why would Master use that name? She had a fine name!
Anya halted. "What?"
Honestly, names didn't matter to her. Code, label, whatever. Like before: Lin.
A playful grin crept onto Ethan's face. "Nothing… just calling you."
Anya's expression darkened, eyes saying: You're nuts.
She glanced. Turned. Walked.
Ethan tugged his tie. Twisted his neck. Smirk deepened. "Luke, isn't she… kinda gorgeous when mad?"
Luke touched his nose. "Master, Miss Anya is already… well, hot."
Seriously, Luke questioned his master's sanity. Who chases girls by making them mad?
"Really?" Ethan squinted, calculating mischief.
"Yes! Totally! She's stunning when she's mad! Like… wow." Luke said it like a meme.
Ethan smirked. "Let's go."
Long legs, effortless stride. Luke and the guards trailing.
F-Class was self-study. No teacher. Just… weird stares. Curiosity. Silent weighing.
Anya felt it. Eyes probing. Comparing. Judging.
She had siblings in S-Class. Younger ones.
By comparison, she was a punching bag. A mat to step on.
But since returning… she was different. Powerful. Unpredictable. Maybe someone would notice.
Brains ticking, hearts guessing. Maybe just pretend. Explode quietly, or in visible chaos? She had blown up.
Of course, she didn't know what anyone thought. If she did… she'd probably ask, "Dude, how'd you figure it out?"
"Hector, this Anya…" Zephyr stared at the upright figure.
"Observe… longer."
Hector glanced at Cyrus, lying back, relaxed. Smirk here, half-thought there.
Anya had drawn curiosity. Mission accomplished, like a spark in dry grass.