“Waiting for class to start?”

  Giovanni’s dark eyebrows furrowed further. “Don’t play obtuse. You know what I’m asking.”

  “I really don’t,” Blythe said innocently, turning back to face the front where Professor Cartwright was flipping through the textbook in his hands.

  “Don’t get me involved in whatever spat you’re having with him.”

  It seemed rude to tell him she had only sat beside him out of convenience, so she didn’t. She pretended not to hear him. Now that their professor was going through the textbook characteristics of the plant they were studying today, Giovanni had no choice but to pay attention to his favorite professor and leave her alone.

  She’d always sat in front of Giovanni before, so she’d never noticed that he raised his hand for every question Professor Cartwright posed to the students.

  After two questions, the professor finally called on Giovanni to answer the third one. It was the first time Blythe had seen Giovanni get to answer a question. She supposed the professor didn’t often allow it because Giovanni probably knew the answers to everything and he wanted to give the other students a chance.

  Giovanni rattled off a long list of side effects that could result from excessive ingestion of byovelle decoction.

  “Excellent answer, Mr. Carrington,” Professor Cartwright said, beaming and holding out the jar of candy to him. “You’ve managed to list six other side effects that aren’t in the textbook. Although I did ask for just three. Still, well done.”

  Despite getting subtly called out, Giovanni remained unabashed as he grabbed a green foil wrapped candy. He unwrapped it straight away. Before this, she’d never been close enough to the candy to see what it looked like. It looked like toffee with some chopped nuts mixed in it.

  As Giovanni popped it into his mouth, they made eye contact.

  “What?” he asked ungraciously, the word sounding funny thanks to the toffee he was pushing around in his mouth.

  “Nothing. You’re acting like that’s the best candy in the world. Couldn’t you easily get candy elsewhere?”

  He glared daggers at her again. “Professor Cartwright’s handmade toffees have won multiple awards in Beryllia. Where am I going to find a confectioner who makes them like he does?”

  “O-oh …” Wait, was that supposed to be common knowledge?

  Scoffing, he said, “What, did you forget about that too?”

  She grimaced.

  “Mr. Carrington, Miss Ridge,” Professor Cartwright said, looking up from his textbook at them. “Please save your conversations for when I’m not speaking.”

  Nearly everyone turned around to look at the two of them, their expressions ranging from shock to bewilderment. Magnus’ mistrustful glare was the most potent of them all. Blythe was honestly amazed she didn’t lose favorability points for drawing negative attention during class.

  Her cheeks burned with heat as she apologized. Giovanni mumbled an apology, giving her the stink eye afterwards. She frowned back at him, but his attention was already back on their professor.

  He was the one who’d prompted her to talk to him. She could’ve ignored him, sure, but he had started it.

  After class, Magnus went to walk with her out of the greenhouse. Giovanni slipped away at the earliest opportunity, having no interest in being caught in the crossfire like he’d said before.

  The air between them was thick with silence. If his plan was to pressure her with discomfort until she caved and spoke the first word, it was doomed to fail. Blythe was great at awkward silence.

  Thus, he ’stalked’ her—was it stalking if the person doing it walked beside her the entire time?—all the way to the dormitory building.

  Once they arrived at the steps leading into the building, he relented and said, “What was that about?”

  She considered playing dumb but decided against it. He knew that she knew what he was getting at. It would only buy her a few seconds at the most.

  There were a lot of other students milling past them to get to the dining hall, so she tried to keep away from most of them as she spoke.

  “I didn’t want to torment you with my presence anymore. Your mood sours every time you’re beside me—not blaming you, by the way—so I was trying to be nice. You don’t have to sit next to me every chance you get out of some misplaced sense of obligation.” For the last part, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you sure you don’t want to break off the engagement?”

  “I know you’re up to something,” Magnus informed her, his blue eyes narrowed to near slits. “You’re acting so abnormally these days. I won’t blindly fall into a trap.”

  “I’m just being honest. But okay, I can’t blame you for not believing me.”

  Could she blame anyone, really? A bitter smile pulled at her lips.

  “How can I believe you after all your lies?”

  Another stab of fury pierced through her ribcage as she was abruptly reminded of the out-of-place wisdom stat increase after she’d told Jacqueline she was a sleepwalker.

  She couldn’t even turn over a new leaf like this.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “You’re right,” she said shortly, hovering her hand over the door access control of the dining hall. “You can’t believe me.”

  He cast her a confused glance, but Blythe ignored him and pushed the door open. Eager to ditch him, she hurried to find the table Jessica and Sophie were supposed to be sitting at.

  ???

  Daisy was back to sitting at her usual desk in the middle of the classroom when Blythe got there.

  Her stomach flipped and squirmed like a fish out of water. The extra messenger bag felt heavy in her hands.

  Aware of other classmates’ eyes on her as she approached Daisy’s desk, Blythe tried to keep her gaze focused on the latter. Daisy looked up from her hands on the desk and her solemn expression instantly transformed into fear. Her eyes darted around the room, as though looking for an escape route.

  “Hi, Daisy,” she started, holding out the bag to her. “I got a new bag and some items to hopefully replace some of yours. I know it’s not the same, but at least they’re usable.”

  She narrowed her eyes at the system window that popped up, but forced herself to clear her mind.

  Instead of taking it or rejecting it right away, Daisy’s eyes wandered around their classroom. Blythe surreptitiously flicked her gaze around as well, making note of the few boys and girls who were watching them like she would a particularly gripping movie scene.

  “Thank you,” Daisy said finally, accepting the bag by the handle. “But why?”

  “I know you don’t believe me, but I really am sorry.”

  Daisy’s eyebrows drew together, but she said nothing. Putting the bag on her lap, she began sorting through the items.

  Blythe went back to her usual desk before before she could outstay her welcome. She didn’t particularly want their interaction to be made a spectacle for their classmates to see.

  From her desk, she saw Daisy lift some of the items, like the handkerchief and the jar of hand moisturizer she knew from the game that Daisy often kept in her bag. Daisy examined them for a rather long time.

  Tearing her gaze away from Daisy, Blythe pulled out her textbook. There was no point in analyzing Daisy’s facial expressions. What was important was keeping a safe distance from her.

  ???

  The Ridge family carriage came to pick Blythe up at the courtyard after school.

  Jessica and Sophie, who were also waiting for their family carriages on the bench, waved at her.

  “See you next Monday!” Sophie said.

  “Remember we’ll be using the student kitchen,” Jessica called out, “on Sunday evening to make chocolates!”

  “And cookies!” Blythe called back before taking Micah’s hand to get into the carriage.

  Jessica laughed. “Yes, and cookies!”

  When they were reserving the student kitchen for making the actual Valentine’s Day chocolate the other day, Jessica mentioned she would want to make some cookies suitable for afternoon tea with any extra time they had left in their reservation after the chocolates. Blythe got excited about the idea and asked if she could make some with her.

  The thought of having cookies she could store in her room to snack on whenever she wanted was highly appealing to Blythe. She’d only ever seen her mother make it in her original world, but she’d never tried making any herself. However, she was fairly decent at following recipes and was certain it would turn out well enough with Jessica’s help.

  Micah shut the carriage door, and Blythe looked out the window.

  Over the last few nights, Blythe had come up with a rough idea for how she would deal with the next in-game bullying scene. If her memory served her right, it was supposed to take place during a specific school event two months from now in October: the Sweet Treats Tourney. It was easier this time around—she wouldn’t have to guess at the day.

  The Sweet Treats Tourney was mostly a competition to win a nice, shiny trophy and bragging rights. In the game, the player could choose whether or not Daisy participated in this event. As with the Hunting Race, would-be participants had to apply for it and demonstrate a certain capacity for producing confectionery. The original Blythe was always one of the competitors, and she was always bitter at Daisy for far surpassing her in terms of baking prowess.

  Actually, she had no idea how the original Blythe managed to become a participant in the first place. If Jessica was stunned she’d managed to correctly follow the simple chocolate truffle recipe, there was no way the original Blythe was capable enough to compete. Maybe she had to resort to bribery just to get in.

  Her next strategy was to get some strong rope, tie her limbs to her bedposts the night before and hope it all worked out the next day. The tying part sounded like it might pose some difficulties, but she had two months to research and practice some knots. She wasn’t sure if she could get one of her friends to help as well, but maybe she could use it as a sort of proof that she didn’t have control over her body.

  She’d also have either Jessica or Sophie to come to her room after the event so she would have some help with the untying. The plan was to keep anything sharp, like scissors, out of reach so her body wouldn’t be able to free itself.

  If she physically couldn’t move, her body wouldn’t be able to do anything.

  It was an extreme plan, but the important part was getting the job done. Desperate times called for desperate measures and all that. She stared grimly at the scenery outside.

  Upon getting home, Blythe took a nice, long bath while indulging in a platter of fruit and cheese. Her parents sent a servant to call her to dinner at the main estate after that.

  “Good evening, Dad, Mom,” she said, settling down at the table beside Reuben.

  Alasdair and Tatiana greeted her happily. Reuben nodded at her, and she nodded back.

  “We missed you, darling!” Tatiana, who was sitting across from Reuben said. “How was your first week in the dorms?”

  “It was nice,” Blythe said. “I went swimming in the indoor pool because it was so convenient.”

  Alasdair turned to the side and spoke quietly to the male servant who came up to him. Soon, they were served small bowls of butternut squash soup with bread on the side at the table.

  Reuben’s jaw dropped. “You went swimming? I thought you hated it!“

  “Things change,” she said, trying the soup. It was creamy and delicious. “Besides, it’s a good way to exercise.”

  “That really is surprising,” Tatiana commented, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I remember you detested the very idea of being in water. What brought about that change?”

  “My mood. I just, you know, felt like it.”

  Everyone looked doubtful, but they didn’t question her further.

  The topic shifted to her classes and homework, and then to what her family members had been busy with for the past week. The servants bustled in and out of the dining room, carrying away their empty plates and bowls and bringing in the next course.

  During a lull in the conversation, Alasdair turned to her and said, “Blythe, since you’re now staying in the dorms on the weekdays instead of coming home, we should spend more time together as a family on the weekends. I know you haven’t gone the last two weeks, but I’d like you to limit your visits to the royal palace to once a month.”

  The gears in her head turned as she stared at Alasdair, trying to figure out why in the world she would visit the royal palace in the first place.

  Alasdair stared back, looking increasingly confused until he opened his mouth again. “Why are you so quiet? That’s not an unreasonable request. You already see Prince Magnus every day in school. Your mother, Reuben, and I would like to have afternoon tea with you tomorrow.”

  Reuben protested, “Hey, I wasn’t involved in suggesting it.”

  It finally clicked in her brain.

  “No, why would I still visit the royal palace to see him? I asked you about our engagement the other day, didn’t I?”