CHAPTER 14: CONFRONTATION

Ariana’s POV

Today... something strange happened.

It began in the classroom, like any other day. But when Instructor Samantha announced the practical assessment, my stomach dropped instantly. A dungeon. A group assignment. For everyone else, it sounded exciting — their first real exploration. But for someone like me, who couldn’t even cast a simple spell properly, it felt like a punishment.

Group assessment...

Why did it have to be group?

Everyone knew I was useless. Even if they didn’t say it aloud, I saw their eyes and heard the laughter behind my back. So of course, no one wanted me in their team. And... I had no friends to ask.

Everyone immediately started talking, laughing, making plans. Some were already pretending to swing swords and bragging about how many monsters they would defeat. They looked so confident. So bright.

I hated that I envied them.

I hated that my chest felt tight whenever I compared myself to them.

I slipped out of the classroom quietly before anyone could notice. I didn’t belong in that noisy excitement anyway. The cafeteria was mostly empty — just the way I liked it. I chose my usual seat in the corner and quietly began eating the food on my tray.

Then... he walked in.

Lucien Ashborne.

A week ago, he had been surrounded by followers, his presence loud and unpleasant. But after the punishment and exile from his family, he became like a ghost — alone, and avoided by everyone. An exiled noble. Another outcast.

But he was different now. He looked... normal. Quiet. Almost humble.

What surprised me the most was the lunch box he carried — shiny metal, neatly tied with cloth. No one ever brought their own food here. The academy cafeteria was good enough for most. Free for everyone but him.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye for a moment before focusing back on my tray. Or, I tried to.

Because the next moment — he was sitting directly across from me.

I froze.

Why was he sitting here?

Why... talk to me?

"Have you joined a group?" he asked casually, like we were old acquaintances.

My voice stuttered out before I could stop it. "N-No..."

When he asked me to team up... I almost laughed.

Not because it was funny — but because I genuinely believed I would drag him down. I could barely fight. I had no talent at magic. Even my own family treated me like a disappointment.

"I-I’m s-sorry... I’m just... u-useless..."

The words came out bitterly, but he didn’t flinch.

Instead, he smiled a little and said:

"Then we’re perfectly matched. Haven’t you heard? I’m trash too."

I didn’t know how to respond. That straightforward honesty... it disarmed me. I had expected pity or mockery. Not a confession matching my own inferiority.

Before I realized it, I nodded.

It also felt like relief.

But the truth was... I was barely listening anymore.

Because my eyes kept drifting to his lunch box.

What was that food?

Round, soft bread, glistening slightly — and that smell.

Warm. Savory. Inviting.

I felt rude for staring, but my traitorous gaze kept returning to it.

He noticed.

Without hesitation, he offered me one.

When I took my first bite—

The world went quiet.

Warm bread hugged a tender piece of meat bursting with flavor. There was a harmony of taste I never imagined food could have. A kind of comfort I had never once been given growing up.

It felt... unfair, almost. How could something so small make me want to cry?

"...It’s good," I whispered.

I didn’t have any bigger words. I didn’t know how to describe happiness.

Embarrassed by how much I wanted more, I asked if he could bring it again — offering to pay because I didn’t want to appear greedy. He paused, making my hope stumble—

Then said he would bring something even better tomorrow.

My heart actually stopped for a moment.

When I insisted on paying, he looked genuinely offended.

"Friends don’t pay each other for lunch."

Friends.

It was a word I had forgotten.

A word I didn’t think would ever apply to me again.

My throat tightened, and I quickly stood. If I stayed any longer, he might see the tears gathering in my eyes.

"...I’ll look forward to it," I managed to say, voice barely steady.

Then I hurried away — not to flee from him, but because...

someone had finally reached out a hand.

And I didn’t know how to hold it without breaking.

****

Lucien’s P.O.V-

After lunch, I returned to the classroom, slipped my lunchbox back into the drawer, and decided to head toward the library.

A quiet corner, a few books, and no people — exactly what I needed.

But fate, as usual, had other ideas.

"Lucien Ashborne."

That voice made my good mood vanish instantly.

I turned, already scowling.

Mariella Arlon — the eldest daughter of House Arlon, one of the four ducal families. Blonde hair that gleamed like gold, proud posture, the kind of aristocratic grace that practically screamed entitlement.

Just great.

"What do you want?" I asked flatly, not bothering to hide the irritation in my tone.

She seemed taken aback for a moment, probably not expecting me to speak so coldly. But the surprise faded quickly, replaced by that familiar haughty sneer. The same look nobles give servants who dared to speak first.

"I’ll ask again," she said, folding her arms. "What are you planning?"

I blinked once. "...Planning?"

"Don’t play dumb," she snapped. "You’ve been acting far too quiet lately. You must be scheming something. It’s in your nature, isn’t it?"

My jaw tightened.

’This self-righteous bitch...’

Out loud, I said calmly, "And if I am? What does it have to do with you?"

Her brows furrowed. "I knew it. Scum like you never change."

She lifted her chin proudly. "As someone from House Arlon, I cannot overlook any suspicious behavior within the academy. It’s my duty to stop vile acts before they happen."

I could almost feel my patience cracking.

A few students nearby had begun to notice. Whispers spread fast — Mariella confronting Lucien.

Perfect. Just what I needed.

Even when I kept my head down, trouble always found me.

She kept going, her tone growing louder, drawing more attention with each word.

"You think just because you’re the son of a Count, you can act however you please? You bring shame upon the entire nobility! I’ll make sure you don’t cause more trouble for—"

"Shut up, you bitch."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Sharp, venomous, echoing louder than I intended.

The hallway went dead silent.

Every eye turned toward me.

Even Mariella froze, her face blank for half a second before flushing red — anger, disbelief, maybe even embarrassment.

"...What did you just say?" she whispered.

Yeah, I regretted it immediately.

But once words are out, they’re like arrows — no taking them back.

Still, I couldn’t exactly apologize to her. Not in front of this crowd. Not when I knew they’d twist it into another humiliation.

I grit my teeth, grabbed my lunchbox from the drawer, and brushed past her without another word. The sound of gasps and murmurs followed me as I strode down the corridor.

Let them talk.

Let them stare.

At least this time, I actually did something to deserve the hate.

Outside, I exhaled deeply. The air felt colder. The weight in my chest heavier.

"...I really need to stop talking," I muttered under my breath.

The library was out of the question now.

If I stayed, I’d probably run into Kael next — and that was the last thing I needed.

So instead, I turned my steps toward the private training grounds.

I needed to clear my head.

Or maybe just shoot something until I forgot this damn day.