The quiet of the carriage and the familiar scent of incense felt like a soft cocoon, momentarily shielding her from the bright yet perilously dangerous world outside.
Old John asked nothing.
He simply closed the door respectfully and drove the carriage smoothly toward the Dale Mansion in the Upper District.
Inside the cabin, Freya curled up in the corner of the soft seat.
She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, her nails digging deep into her skin once more.
She sought to use the sharp pain to suppress the stormy waves surging within the depths of her soul.
‘Ross… Irina…’
She ground those two names between her teeth, the words carrying the metallic tang of blood and hatred.
In her previous life, she had been naive, proud, and completely immersed in magic research and beautiful fantasies of the future.
She had been oblivious to the undercurrents and malice surrounding her.
She had viewed Ross as a trustworthy partner — and had even harbored a vague affection for him.
She had treated Irina Ewell as a gifted but pitiful classmate who needed help.
And the result?
One of them had pierced her heart with the Holy Sword and stripped away her Mana Heart Crystal.
The other had watched with a most venomous smile, greedily coveting everything she owned while delivering a final mockery as she lay dying.
‘Why? Why did they do it? Was it just for my Mana Heart Crystal? Or was there a deeper, more terrifying conspiracy?’
She only knew that everything she once cherished and protected had been ground into dust during that betrayal.
Her family might have been shamed or even implicated because of her.
Her grandfather…
Thinking of her grandfather Calanso sent another jolt of agonizing pain through Freya’s heart.
‘No, I can’t keep thinking about this.’
The fear and agony brought by those possibilities were enough to tear her apart again.
The carriage came to a halt.
They had arrived at the mansion.
Freya took a deep breath and wiped her face hard, clearing the moisture from the corners of her eyes and the traces of her disheveled state.
She couldn’t go in like this.
Grandpa Aru and the others in the mansion would notice something was wrong.
She looked into the small mirror inside the cabin to tidy her messy hair and collar.
She worked to bring a bit of color back to her overly pale cheeks, attempting to put back on the mask of the calm and self-possessed “Freya Christo Dale.”
However, the pale purple eyes in the mirror no longer held their former clarity and brightness.
They were filled only with a bottomless, icy darkness and the faint, lingering tremors of a survivor.
She pushed the door open, and the afternoon sunlight enveloped her once more.
The familiar gates and gardens of the Dale Mansion came into view.
Everything was as peaceful and serene as she remembered.
But Freya knew that beneath this tranquility, a deadly serpent was already lying in wait.
She was back.
Carrying the blood feuds and memories of her previous life, she had returned to the starting point before any of it had happened.
This time, she would never repeat the same mistakes.
She would not let a single one of those who had hurt her, betrayed her, and taken everything from her go free.
The first step was to thoroughly tear away Irina’s hypocritical mask, uncover the conspiracy that likely existed behind Ross and Irina, and… protect herself, her grandfather, and everything she cared about.
Tightening her trembling fingers, Freya straightened her back.
With a seemingly steady stride, she walked through the front doors of the mansion.
Her cold and resolute path to vengeance officially began at this moment.
And the very first move was to ensure that Irina — who was perhaps still playing the part of a “startled fawn” in the classroom — could never easily approach her again.
The scene shifted back to the present.
Freya looked at Irina.
Her expression remained unchanged, her voice entirely indifferent as she spoke.
“Who are you?”
Upon hearing this, Irina’s expression suddenly turned rigid.
Not even one second later, her eyes filled with tears, looking just like a rabbit with eyes red from crying.
“Freya, how can you pretend not to know me…”
Seeing this, Ross felt a twinge of pity and stepped forward to speak up for Irina.
“Freya, how could you not know Irina? Even though she only recently transferred here, she is our classmate. How can you pretend not to know her?”
Irina wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and gave a tiny tug on the corner of Ross’s sleeve.
“It’s fine, Ross. Freya must not know enough about me to…”
The implication was that Freya looked down on Irina’s poor background and was therefore feigning ignorance.
Lyra leaned toward Freya and asked in a very low whisper, “Does she have something wrong with her eyes? Why is she always crying?”
‘How should I know why she’s such a crybaby…’
Freya ignored Lyra and simply sighed.
“I truly do not know you. I requested leave to go home just as you entered the classroom. If I recall correctly, you were… late? Professor Mabel didn’t have a chance to introduce you before I left. Tell me, how was I supposed to know your name?”
Freya’s calm yet precise counter-question was like a cold stone dropped into the pool of fragile tears Irina had painstakingly created.
The air went still for a moment.
The tearful expression on Irina’s face froze.
Even the watery glimmer in her pink pupils stagnated, as if she hadn’t expected Freya to respond in such a direct, matter-of-fact, and cold manner.
The lines she had prepared to imply Freya’s arrogance and disdain for the poor got stuck in her throat.
The surrounding students also realized what was happening and began to whisper among themselves.
“That’s right, Freya seemed to leave on a break not long after class started…”
“Irina came in late. Professor Mabel was just about to introduce her when Freya went out looking pale.”
“In that case… Freya really might not know her name?”
Ross was stunned for a moment.
He had been completely carried away by Irina’s tears and her pointed words.
Now that Freya had pointed it out, he remembered the actual situation that day.
He looked at Irina, a flicker of indiscernible doubt passing through his eyes.
Irina’s reaction was extremely fast.
Almost the next second, her frozen expression melted into deeper grievance and a “misunderstood” sadness.
Tears filled her eyes again, brimming but not falling, making her look even more pitiful.
She lowered her head slightly, her voice as thin as a mosquito’s buzz and choked with sobs.
“I-I’m sorry… Freya… I was too impulsive… I just… I just thought that an outstanding person like Freya would have noticed a new student…”
She skillfully swapped “pretending not to know” for “didn’t notice,” still attempting to place herself in a weak, overlooked position.
Standing behind Freya, Lyra could hardly restrain herself from rolling her eyes.
She muttered in a breathy voice only the two of them could hear, “Such a drama queen… It’s a waste that she isn’t at the Royal Theater.”
Freya remained expressionless, as if she were merely stating the simplest of facts.
“I noticed, but I didn’t know the name.”
Her tone was flat, revealing neither joy nor anger.
“So, there is no harm in a formal introduction now. I am Freya Christo Dale.”
She did not proactively show any kindness as she had in her past life. She simply gave a basic, polite, and distant self-introduction.
Then, her gaze turned toward Ross.
Her pale purple eyes were as calm as still water, yet they made Ross feel an inexplicable sense of pressure.
“Furthermore, Ross — no, Crown Prince Ross — “
Freya’s tone remained steady.
“Before accusing someone, it is best to verify the facts first. To avoid… creating unnecessary misunderstandings.”
She spoke neither too heavily nor too lightly, yet it was like a fine needle, gently pricking the sense of righteousness Ross had cultivated by stepping out to “uphold justice” without hesitation.
A flash of embarrassment and a flush of red crossed Ross’s face.
He opened his mouth as if to explain something, but Freya was no longer looking at him.
Instead, she turned her gaze back to Irina, as if waiting for her response.
Hidden inside her sleeves, Irina’s fingers tightened slightly.
Freya’s reaction was completely beyond her expectations.
There was no flustered explanation as she had anticipated, no helplessness in the face of her tears, and not even a hint of pity or condescension toward her “poor background.”
There was only a near-indifferent calm and a logically clear deconstruction of the situation.
This left her with no room to perform the follow-up act she had prepared.
She quickly adjusted her state, lifting her tear-blurred face to squeeze out a grateful and timid smile.
“Yes… Thank you, Freya. I am Irina Ewell. Please… please look after me from now on.”
She tried to regain the initiative, at least completing the “introduction” phase.
Freya merely gave a slight nod.
Without saying anything more, she turned to Lyra.
“Let’s go to the library. We need to check the materials for the afternoon Practical Class in advance.”
“You got it.”
Lyra responded cheerfully.
Before leaving, she intentionally looked back toward Irina and Ross and flashed a smile so bright it was almost annoying.
She directed the look particularly at Ross, her smile hiding an unidentifiable sense of amusement.
Freya and Lyra walked away side-by-side, leaving behind a conflicted Ross and an Irina who maintained her fragile expression while her eyes slightly darkened.
The surrounding students continued to whisper, their gazes filled with curiosity.
After they had walked a distance from the classroom, Lyra leaned in toward Freya and asked with great interest, “Boss, you seem to be giving ‘special attention’ to that new student and the golden-haired kid?”
She used the term “special attention,” but her red eyes sparkled with the light of someone who had seen through the show.
Freya didn’t stop.
Her profile looked somewhat cold under the light filtering through the corridor windows.
“It isn’t special attention.”
Her voice was very low, carrying a trace of chill that only she could truly feel.
“I just don’t want to waste any more time on boring misunderstandings and performances.”
Lyra raised an eyebrow. She didn’t press further, only giving a meaningful “Oh.”
She could see that Freya’s attitude toward those two was definitely not a simple case of “disliking” them or “avoiding suspicion.”
It was something deeper and more repressed, like an undercurrent surging beneath a calm sea.
This made her look forward to their upcoming life at the Academy even more.
At that moment, Irina gently pulled on Ross’s sleeve, as he still seemed to be lost in thought.
Her voice remained soft.
“Ross, don’t be angry. Freya might just… be in a bad mood today. It’s all my fault; I shouldn’t have been late…”