The atmosphere grew taut the moment Luca stepped out of the transparent elevator. The floor was vast and gleaming with white marble inscribed with silver runes, but all of that grandeur dimmed in comparison to the sharp, piercing voice that cut across the hall.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here?"

Luca's head snapped up. A woman stood leaning against a polished crystal column, arms crossed, lips curled into a smirk so sharp it seemed like it could slice the silence. Her eyes glinted with mockery, and for a second, Luca felt an odd sense of déjà vu prickle at the back of his mind. Have I seen her before?

Beside him, Seraphina's shoulders stiffened. She clicked her tongue, an almost imperceptible twitch of irritation crossing her usually calm face. Her sapphire eyes narrowed as she stepped forward with a languid grace, though the tension in her jaw betrayed her annoyance.

"What do you want, Janice?" she asked flatly, her tone like a knife wrapped in silk.

A ripple of whispers swept through the hall. Apprentices and scholars peeking from corners and desks leaned toward each other, murmuring:

"Here they go again…"

"Always Janice stirring things…"

"Why does she keep provoking Lady Seraphina?"

Janice's smirk only widened at the murmurs, basking in the attention. She uncrossed her arms and sauntered forward, hips swaying deliberately, her heels clicking against the marble. She tilted her chin high, her sharp gaze dripping with condescension.

"Hmph. Are you even worthy of calling me by my name?" Her voice was honeyed venom, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Luca's expression darkened. He stepped half a pace forward, his instincts telling him this was aimed at more than just Seraphina.

Janice's eyes flicked toward him, assessing, before her lips curled into a wicked grin. "Oh? And who's this? Did you bring along your little boy toy, Seraphina?"

The jab landed with a sharp sting. Luca froze, then blinked, a muscle in his cheek twitching. Slowly, he raised a brow. "...Do I know you, miss?" His voice was calm, but his eyes carried a chill.

Janice's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second—before she let out a laugh that was far too shrill. She placed a hand dramatically on her chest, feigning offense.

"You—you don't remember me? How dare you? At the restaurant, last time! You made me look like a fool, don't tell me you've already forgotten?"

Luca tilted his head, the memory dawning. Ah… so that's why she seemed familiar.

Before he could say anything, Seraphina cut in sharply, her voice cracking like a whip. "Shut up, Janice. Don't bother him."

The tension in the hall only deepened, and before Janice could retort, another voice broke through—deep, strict, but with an oily undertone.

"What's the ruckus here?"

The crowd parted as a large, round-bellied man with greasy hair parted straight down the middle waddled in. His robes strained against his bulk as he surveyed the scene, his expression self-important.

Janice's eyes lit up instantly. In a flash, she abandoned her biting composure and clung to the man's arm like a doting lover, pressing herself close with a sweetness so forced it was almost nauseating.

"Oh, Master Gerald! You came just in time!" she cooed, tilting her head to rest against his shoulder, though her eyes darted triumphantly toward Seraphina.

The whispers swelled again, heavier this time:

"Ugh, why is he interfering?"

"Do you think he's protecting her again?"

"Doesn't everyone know by now?"

Gerald puffed out his chest, clearly savoring both Janice's attention and the murmurs around them. His gaze slid over the hall before landing squarely on Seraphina. His eyes darkened with unrestrained lust as they raked shamelessly over her figure, lingering far longer than was proper.

Then, as if noticing Luca for the first time, his brows furrowed slightly. He leaned forward, squinting.

"And who might you be, boy? Hm… you look… familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?"

Whispers rippled like a wave through the onlookers as recognition dawned on their faces. Heads tilted, eyes widened, and voices overlapped.

"Ahh, that's right, doesn't he look familiar?"

"Now that you say it…"

"Wait— isn't that Luca Valentine? The one who received a medal from the Empress herself? The boy on the front page after the devil cult incident!"

"Ahh, yes, that's him!"

The murmurs grew louder, attention snapping toward Luca like arrows finding their mark. His name was heavy in their mouths, equal parts awe and curiosity.

The man—Gerald—straightened at once, puffing his chest as though the crowd's acknowledgment somehow reflected on him. But before he could speak, the woman at his side clutched his arm, pressing herself against him with vulgar eagerness, her breasts squashed deliberately against his forearm. Her painted lips curled as she tossed a sharp glance at Seraphina.

"So what?" she sneered, chin tilted high. "Do you think dragging along a famous boy will help your family's standing? Hmph. Do you think he could ever compare to my darling Gerald?"

Gerald's expression swelled with pride, smugness twisting into his features.

Luca's stomach churned. Disgusting. He almost gagged watching her drape herself over the man like a parasitic leech.

Gerald licked his lips, his tongue flicking obscenely across them, and his gaze dropped to Seraphina. "Marry me as my concubine, Seraphina," he said with heavy breath, eyes glinting with lust. "I promise your family will prosper. I'll take care of you."

"That's right," the woman echoed eagerly, tightening her hold on Gerald's arm, smirking at Luca. "Marry my darling. What can that kid possibly do for you?"

The words cut through the air. Something inside Luca snapped.

He stepped forward before he could think, placing himself between Seraphina who was looking down with clenched fists and them, his shoulders squared and his jaw tight. His voice was low, firm, and without hesitation:

"Why not? Of course I can take care of her."

The crowd stiffened. Even Seraphina's eyes widened slightly, her lips parting as a hard glint formed behind her expression.

But Luca wasn't done. His words tumbled out, fueled by rage and disgust. "But she doesn't need anyone to take care of her. She doesn't need to rely on anyone—unlike a certain certified slut."

The woman's eyes bulged in shock. "You—!"

"What, you?" Luca cut her off, his lip curling in disdain. His voice carried, sharp as a blade. "My professor is fully capable of handling her own matters. She doesn't need to sell her body to do it."

Even Seraphina looked like she has vented some of her anger, but she was more worried as she tugged his shirt from behind ,she said, "Let it go."

Gasps erupted through the crowd. Then came muffled laughter, and approving murmurs rising like sparks.

"She deserves it."

"That young man's got guts."

"Should I marry my daughter to him?"

The woman's face burned crimson, humiliation and fury twisting her features. She clung tighter to Gerald, her nails digging into his sleeve. "Why don't you say something?! Are you just going to let him insult me?!"

Gerald's face darkened, the smugness fading into cold arrogance. He took a deliberate step forward, shoulders rolling as if to display his size. His voice came deep, theatrical, each word dragged out for effect.

"Boy," he drawled, "you should learn to fear certain things. Fame won't protect you forever. There are forces you can't touch."

The smugness was the last straw.

Luca's fists clenched. His expression shifted—calm shattering into raw fury. His voice thundered across the hall, cracking with emotion.

"FUCK OFF!"

His chest heaved as rage poured through him. His thoughts spiraled, boiling over. The world is already drowning in chaos. People are dying every day—fighting, bleeding,commoners getting sacrificed. And here they are. Playing games. Flaunting power. Pretending any of this matters.

He reached back, grabbed Seraphina's hand, and pushed through the parting crowd. His grip was firm, almost trembling with the effort to hold himself together. If he stayed a second longer, he would lose control completely.

But just as they moved, Gerald's voice slithered after them, sharp and venomous.

"Seraphina," he called, his tone dark, "this is my last warning. Marry me… or else—"

The threat was cut short by the hiss of steel.

In the blink of an eye, Gerald's back slammed against the wall, his breath punched out of him. A saber pressed against his throat, its gleaming edge biting the skin.

And standing before him, eyes like pools of cold, merciless crimson, was Luca. His gaze bored into Gerald's very soul—piercing, unyielding, terrifying in its clarity.

The hall fell into silence.