Chapter 71: Provocative

Lyra stood still, staring at the closed door for a long while.

Then, clutching the paper bag of snacks, she walked to the steps beside the door and sat down.

The sunlight shone warmly upon her.

She opened the paper bag; inside were two freshly baked honey biscuits, still steaming hot.

She took one out and took a bite.

It was sweet and crunchy.

As she chewed on the biscuit, her eyes remained fixed on that door.

She was waiting.

Inside the training room, Freya stood in the center of the vast Training Ground.

Thick Magic Barrier walls surrounded her, and complex Amplification Magic Circles were etched into the ground.

A faint, lingering scent of mana permeated the air.

She raised her hand.

Silver-white mana gushed from her fingertips, condensing into countless tiny ice crystals in the air.

They swirled.

They rose.

They converged.

Then, they suddenly exploded.

The ice crystals scattered, striking the Magic Barrier with tiny flashes of light, resembling a miniature blizzard.

Freya lowered her hand, breathing slightly hard.

She closed her eyes.

Images flickered in her mind—

The way Horn looked at her.

The smile at the corner of Irina’s lips.

And the way Lyra had just been squatting on the steps, clutching the paper bag of snacks and looking up at her while saying, “Good luck, Boss.”

She opened her eyes.

Mana gushed from her fingertips once more.

This time, it was colder and sharper.

The ice crystals condensed into the shape of a longsword, hovering before her.

She reached out and gripped the hilt.

An icy sensation spread from her palm.

She swung the sword.

A flash of light passed, leaving a silver-white trail in the air.

One hour later, Freya walked out of the training room.

The sunlight was piercing, causing her to squint slightly.

Then, she saw Lyra.

The golden-brown girl was still sitting on the steps, maintained in almost the exact same posture as when Freya had gone in—

Clutching that paper bag of snacks and staring toward the entrance.

Seeing her come out, Lyra jumped up instantly.

“Boss!”

She ran over, looking Freya up and down, her red eyes filled with concern.

“Are you tired? Are you hungry? Do you want some water?”

Freya looked at her.

She looked at the faint sweat on Lyra’s forehead from the sun, the now-empty paper bag in her arms, and her face, which was slightly flushed from waiting.

“Have you been waiting here this whole time?”

Lyra nodded.

“I said I’d wait for you.”

Freya was silent for a moment.

Then she reached out and gently rubbed that fluffy head.

“Let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“The Academy Canteen.”

Freya paused.

“Barbecue. Chocolate cake.”

Lyra’s eyes lit up instantly.

“Yay!”

She grabbed Freya’s arm and nuzzled against it.

“Boss is the best!”

Freya did not pull her arm away.

The sunlight fell upon them, stretching their shadows long and overlapping them.

In the distance, behind a certain window of the teaching building, someone withdrew their gaze.

Irina stood by the window, her pink eyes as deep as a pool.

She watched the two retreating figures, noting the way the white-haired girl clung to Freya’s arm and the natural, impenetrable intimacy between them.

The corners of her lips curled up slightly.

The smile was very faint.

So faint it was almost invisible.

But if anyone familiar with her were present, they would surely recognize what that smile signified—

She had seen it.

She had seen the softest spot on the person she had set her sights on.

“President?”

A voice came from behind her.

Irina turned around, her face already restored to its usual gentle smile.

“What is it?”

“Are you going to the Mutual Aid Society’s gathering this afternoon?”

“Of course.”

She walked toward the door.

As she passed the window, she took one last look outside.

The two figures had already disappeared at the end of the road.

She withdrew her gaze.

The smile on her lips deepened just a little more.

The next day, Freya went to the training room to train as usual. She still bought a large bag of snacks for Lyra, telling her to wait obediently at the door.

The training room door closed slowly behind her, sealing out the noise of the outside world.

Freya stood before the access control and took out her Student ID Card to perform identity authentication.

She had arrived a bit later than yesterday, and there were already a few students waiting in the hall—

All of them were people waiting for a Practice Room.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed several of them wearing pale pink armbands on their sleeves.

Members of the Mutual Aid Society.

She didn’t look further and tapped her Student ID Card on the sensor.

[Identity verification passed.]
[Freya Christo Dale, Third Grade.]
[Current Academy Points: 2,837.]
[5 points deducted for this session. Remaining: 2,832.]

The mechanical female voice echoed through the hall.

Those several people looked up in unison and stole a glance at her.

Then, they quickly withdrew their gazes and huddled together, beginning to mutter.

Their voices were kept very low, so low that under normal circumstances, they wouldn’t be heard.

However, the hall of the training room was very quiet—so quiet that those intentionally muffled voices still drifted into Freya’s ears.

“…It’s her…”

“…I heard the President say…”

“…Don’t mess with…”

“…Be careful yourself…”

Freya stood in place, waiting for a training room assignment.

Her expression did not change at all.

Those discussions, those gazes, those voices that were kept low yet intentionally loud enough for her to hear—

She wasn’t unaware of what they meant.

But she didn’t want to pay them any mind.

Her purpose for coming here was to train, not to bicker with these people.

[Practice Room 3, assigned.]
[Please enter within three minutes.]

The mechanical female voice sounded again.

Freya set off, walking toward the direction of Practice Room 3.

As she passed by the group, their whispering came to an abrupt halt.

She could feel those gazes landing on her like tiny thorns.

She did not look back.

Ninety minutes later, the training session ended.

Freya walked out of Practice Room 3, still carrying the faint heat from her Magic Release, with fine beads of sweat on her forehead.

She raised a hand to wipe them away and headed toward the exit.

The group of people was still in the hall.

They were huddled together, seemingly waiting for someone. Hearing footsteps, they turned their heads in unison.

Seeing it was Freya, their expressions shifted subtly.

Then, they quickly fell silent.

No one spoke.

No one looked at her.

Everyone was “not looking” at her—

That deliberate act of not looking was more uncomfortable than being stared at.

Freya swept a glance over them.

Her gaze was very faint.

So faint it was as if she were looking at a few insignificant pieces of furniture.

Then she withdrew her gaze and continued toward the door.

Lyra was still waiting outside.

That silly girl was definitely clutching a paper bag of snacks, squatting on the steps and looking at the door expectantly for her to come out.

At the thought of those sparkling red eyes, Freya’s pace unknowingly quickened.

The door was just ahead.

Three steps.

Two steps.

One step.

She reached out, preparing to push the door open—

Suddenly, a wave of scorching heat surged from behind her.

Exceedingly fast.

Exceedingly close.

Freya’s body reacted faster than her conscious mind—

She jerked her head to the side, and a streak of crimson fire grazed her cheek, carrying a searing heatwave before “thudding” against the wall beside her.

The flames exploded against the wall, leaving a charred mark before slowly dying out.

The smell of burning permeated the air.

Freya stood still.

On the side of her face where the flames had grazed her, a dense, stinging pain flared up.

It wasn’t serious; it was like being singed by a spark, without even a wound.

But the pain was real.

And then there was her hair—

Though it hadn’t caught fire, that scorched smell had firmly clung to her strands.

It smelled bad.

Very bad.

Dead silence filled the hall.

The group of people stood frozen, their expressions quite a sight—

Some were terrified, some felt guilty, some were trying hard to stifle a laugh, and some pretended it had nothing to do with them.

Their gazes landed on Freya in unison.

They were waiting for her reaction.

Waiting for her to be angry.

Waiting for her to lose control.

Freya stood there.

Three seconds.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Then, she turned around.

Her gaze swept over the group.

It was still that gaze that was so faint it almost didn’t exist; there was no anger, no questioning, and none of the emotions they expected.

She just looked.

As if she were looking at a few insignificant objects.

The group felt hairs stand up on their necks under her gaze, and someone instinctively took a step back.

“It wasn’t me…”

“It… it was an accident, right?”

“That… it might have been a magic malfunction…”

Someone whispered a defense, their voice getting lower and lower.

Freya ignored them.

She withdrew her gaze, turned around, and pushed the door open.

Sunlight flooded in instantly.

Outside the door, Lyra was squatting on the steps, clutching a bulging paper bag of snacks, her red eyes focused intently on the entrance.

Seeing the door open, she jumped up.

“Boss!”

Then, her smile froze.

She ran over quickly, looking Freya up and down, her nose twitching slightly.

“What’s that smell?”

She knit her brows.

“A burnt smell… Boss, on your hair…”

Her gaze landed on the side of Freya’s face—

That patch of slightly reddened skin.

Lyra’s eyes narrowed instantly.

Inside those red eyes, something was rapidly cooling down.

“Boss.”

Her voice suddenly turned low.

So low it didn’t sound like her usual self.

“Who did it?”

Freya looked at her.

She looked at those rapidly cooling red eyes, at her slightly tightening fingers, and at her smile-less face.

“It’s nothing.”

“Who did it?”

Lyra asked again.

Her voice was even lower.

Freya was silent for a moment.

Then she reached out and gently rubbed the top of Lyra’s head.

“It’s fine. Just an accident.”

Lyra didn’t speak.

She simply stared at the door behind Freya, at the shadows of the people vaguely visible through the crack.

That gaze was as cold as a wolf in a winter night.

In the distance, behind a certain window of the teaching building, someone withdrew their gaze.

Irina stood by the window, the corners of her lips curling up slightly.

She had seen everything that just happened.

That streak of fire, those members of the Mutual Aid Society, Freya’s singed face, and—

The look in that white-haired girl’s eyes at the end.

She chuckled softly.

The first step of the provocation had gone very smoothly.

The white-haired girl’s reaction was even more interesting than she had anticipated.

She turned and walked toward the door.

Inside the training room hall, the group of people was still standing there.

Someone let out a long sigh of relief.

“She… she actually didn’t react?”

“Scared me to death… I thought she was going to strike…”

“Tch, she’s just a noble lady; what kind of capability could she have…”

Before the words could fully leave their mouth, the door was suddenly pushed open.

Everyone looked toward the entrance in unison.