62: Sixty-two.

The End.

62: Sixty-two.

The End.

Pris Aristocrat Academy, Principal’s Office.

Rain gently pattered against the window, tranquility flowing through the room.

A middle-aged man with graying temples, dressed in a suit, sat behind a desk, his quill trembling slightly as he wrote on a sheet of parchment.

Thud thud thud—

The sound of knocking echoed, but the middle-aged man did not lift his head, speaking in a deep voice, “Come in.”

The door quietly opened, and a figure in a white dress drifted into the office.

After a moment of silence, the man in the suit looked up and saw a pale girl standing behind the desk without a word.

He frowned, “Hello, are you a student at the academy?

Do you need something from the principal’s office?”

“Why did you expel me?” the girl spoke softly.

A student who had been advised to withdraw?

The man in the suit frowned more deeply and responded in official tones, “The decision was made after a council initiated by the academy’s professors, following a discussion.

If you have any objections, please speak to the professor in charge of your case.”

“Why did you expel me?”

Two lines of bloody tears streamed from the girl’s eyes.

“You…” the middle-aged man stood up in shock.

His eyes fixated on the fresh red marks resembling rose petals on the hem of the girl’s dress, his pupils dilated, and suddenly his neck tightened, raised into the air.

His toes barely touched the ground, he struggled to say, “Are you… Mishelia…?”

The man’s face turned red due to lack of oxygen, and he struggled to remember, “You are Mishelia, right…

I remember now, I am Principal Pulis here… We received numerous complaints… from the parents of students.”

Principal Pulis’ neck bones made a “crick crack” sound.

“Because they believe you are… a pest…

and that… you had adversely affected the school’s…

reputation…”

The hand suddenly loosened, and Pulis fell back into his seat.

“Cough cough cough cough… But I don’t think so anymore…” Principal Pulis covered his neck, propped himself up from the chair, and frowned, “Are you saying you were wronged?

If there is really such a case, I will stand up for you.

However, I hope… you won’t harm the innocent.”

A deadly silence lasted for several seconds before Mishelia gradually faded into the air.

Principal Pulis stared blankly at the empty space for a long time, silently picking up the telephone on the desk, dialing a number.

“Do you remember Mishelia?

What exactly happened… She killed herself?

Wasn’t she supposed to be consoled…

Never mind, call the professor responsible for her class, I have questions.

Also, send someone to find my son.”

A faint air that had enveloped the office quietly dissipated.

…

“It is a bit sad… But how should I put it?

‘What goes around comes around’ might be too harsh, but I suppose she was just an unfortunate girl, even though that child wasn’t mine.”

Vito, having finished reading his comment in the newspaper, picked up the bowl of overcooked wheat porridge in front of him.

His other hand was busy flipping the newspaper to the last page, which typically contained various recruitment ads.

Vito had been idle at home for quite a while.

Since his parents’ demise left him owning a Long House that collected rent, it spared him from having to squeeze in with the fish-smelling crew members, but it was barely enough to live on.

In the Mishelia incident, he was one of the initiators: he was the one who fabricated the rumor about Mishelia having an abortion.

Vito was not Mishelia’s boyfriend, he didn’t even know Mishelia — but that didn’t stop him from stirring the waters.

Even though there was no tangible benefit, becoming the focal point of discussions gave him a sense of elusive gratification that he relished.

His eyes scanned over one after another recruitment ad.

Vito hoped he could leverage his extensive experience to land a job as a spokesperson in the municipal department; he was really good at it.

He quickly finished the bowl of wheat porridge and leaned back in his chair, belching.

After a short break, he put on his slippers and walked to the door with the leftover box in hand.

Squeak—

As he opened the door and was about to step out, Vito sharply recoiled, a figure standing at the doorway startled him.

“…Hello?”

The girl in front stood with her head bowed, her eyes hidden in the shadows under her hair.

But her facial contours made it clear she was absolutely beautiful.

Was she the new tenant?

He began to regret not having changed into a suit, sprayed some perfume, and put on leather shoes before coming out.

“You don’t even recognize me…”

The girl in front of the door slowly raised her head, her voice cold as bone.

Two streams of blood tears and bright red pupils struck Vito’s eyes.

The horrifying scene made Vito’s breath stop abruptly; he suddenly felt that this face looked familiar, as if it were…

“You are Mishelia!

You aren’t dead…”

Vito finally realized this wasn’t a stroke of sexual fortune but a malevolent ghost seeking revenge.

He screamed, kneeling and begging for mercy, “I’m sorry!

I am truly sorry!

It was just a moment of boredom, I—”

His words came to an abrupt halt.

The sound of something heavy falling followed.

…

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things, wuwuwu I felt so guilty and regretful after hearing you had killed yourself, please forgive me…”

The girl, dressed in a Pris Aristocrat Academy uniform, knelt on the bed, her face pressed against the soft mattress, trembling and not daring to lift her head.

The cold that enveloped the room gradually dispersed.

She waited a long time, trembling as she lifted her head.

The blood-stained dress floating in mid-air had vanished without a trace.

The girl’s cheeks were still marked with fright, her gaze sweeping over the room; indeed, she could no longer see that ghostly figure.

She breathed out deeply and leaned against the cold wall, still in shock.

Bang!

…

Adam felt he was wrong, he truly felt he was incredibly foolish.

He was just an ordinary-looking apprentice stable boy, but he had ended up becoming Mishelia’s boyfriend.

Joy had clouded his judgment to the extent that he spilled everything for some shillings.

The person was already dead, everything was too late.

He crouched in the stable, blankly staring at the reflection in the water trough, which showed his face and another face.

A chill penetrated his mind, and Vito’s body hair stood on end; the next moment, he realized he couldn’t move his body at all.

Except for his head slowly turning backward.

“You, you bitch…” he cursed loudly, but soon, his head was twisted to the limit.

Rage turned into fear, and he agonizingly cried out for mercy, “Let me go…

remember how you once said you loved me the most that night…”

His head kept uncontrollably twisting backward.

Blood frothed from his mouth, and with visible veins, he barely managed to say, “Spare…

me…”

Crack—

As consciousness faded, a chilling voice like from hell resounded by his ear.

“I will be there waiting for you, then I will kill you again.”

The corpse, which had soiled itself, slid off the seat, accumulating on the ground like a pile of trash.

The fierce look in Mishelia’s red eyes slowly faded away.

It was time to go back.