NOVPUBLyssa's only non-lethal method of subduing an opponent had failed.
She wasn't accustomed to situations like this—ones that didn't involve immediate combat.
She knew only killing techniques, and in this classroom, she couldn't use them.
She couldn't act.
And that meant she was at a loss.
Meanwhile, Lilia felt her carefully crafted plan crumbling before her eyes.
Everything was falling apart, and she knew—the greatest mistake had been her own miscalculation.
She had assumed Adlet was weaker than them.
First, her charm had failed—something she still hadn't fully processed and accepted.
The failure gnawed at her, an insult to her very existence.
Second, Lyssa's attempt to stop Adlet had completely collapsed.
Before arriving to class, Lyssa had confidently assured her that she could bring him to his knees—but now, even that seemed impossible.
And then, there was Daniel—his interruption had never been part of her plan.
Instead of helping, his presence had only given Adlet more room to speak, more opportunities to twist the situation against them.
Yet despite all of this, Lilia had not played her final card.
Not yet.
She still had her trump card, the very move that would shift the direction of everything.
Even if the results weren't exactly what she had wanted, her goal would still be achieved.
With that thought firm in her mind, she steeled herself, letting subtle emotions surface on her expression.
Her voice softened—wounded, pitiful—a carefully crafted act.
"Do you think you have the right to insult us just because you're favored by the Academy?"
Her tone carried just enough tremor, her eyes shimmering faintly with unshed tears, her entire demeanor radiating hurt and betrayal.
The weight of her words shifted the attention in the classroom.
Students who had been watching in silence now focused entirely on her.
Just as she had intended.
Lilia adjusted her charm once more, shifting it into a passive state, ensuring that her words carried across the entire classroom, reaching every student with calculated precision.
She needed this moment—this final gamble.
Yet, as her voice softened, crafted to evoke sympathy from everyone, Ashok's expression only darkened further.
His neutral demeanor cracked once again as the look of disgust surfaced once again.
Standing so close to Lilia, the sickeningly sweet scent clung to the air, weaving itself into his senses like a poisoned fragrance.
With unhurried precision, he lifted his handkerchief, pressing it against his nose.
His voice, calm yet absolute, carried across the room like a command spoken from a throne.
"Your mere existence will not change simply because you shed crocodile tears. If you truly wish to present yourself in this classroom, then at least bathe beforehand. This disgusting stench—HAH!"
A sigh escaped his lips—not weary, but dismissive.
Without urgency, he took a deliberate step back, widening the space between them, as though physically removing himself from something beneath his dignity.
Only when the scent had faded into insignificance did he lower the handkerchief—a silent, unspoken decree of rejection.
The action spoke louder than words—his revulsion was undeniable.
Lilia's pride splintered once again.
Yet before she could retaliate, someone else stepped forward.
Daniel, already seething from his earlier humiliation, did not hesitate.
"I don't smell anything. Are you sure you—"
But Ashok did not grant him the courtesy of finishing his sentence.
His gaze shifted, sharp and imperial, as if staring down at a subject beneath his notice.
His interruption was not rushed, nor was it spoken in frustration.
It was simply—final.
"It is natural that you cannot smell anything. Those who dwell in the same waters never notice the stench of their own kind."
Then, with the ease of an executioner delivering the final blow, his gaze locked onto Daniel—cool, unwavering.
"A dog in heat like you would likely be happy to perish in that wretched scent."
His voice did not rise, yet its weight was suffocating.
And the classroom—reacted.
Muffled laughter spread through the students, rippling through the air like whispers of amusement.
The tension fractured—not with aggression, but with mockery directed elsewhere.
Daniel had lost the exchange before he even began.
Lilia gritted her teeth inwardly, suppressing the urge to lash out.
'Shut up, you fool!'
She cursed Daniel in silence, his constant interruptions grating on her patience—his reckless approach ruining everything.
Still, she did not waver.
Instead, she shifted her focus, altering the direction of the confrontation entirely.
Her voice rose just enough, ensuring every student heard her words.
"We must look like lesser creatures before your eyes.
And that's not wrong, is it?
After all, you stand with the Academy's backing, your privileges handed to you effortlessly.
Obviously, we are the lesser ones—the ones who stink, the ones who belong to the sewers."
She let the words settle, then continued, her tone sharper.
"Even at the very first day when lessons haven't even begun, you received Merit Points for free.
You gained access to Gold and Silver Passes—while the rest of us received only one Art Manual, you were given two."
Her words shifted the atmosphere completely.
Even though every student knew that Adlet's privileges had been granted by the teachers, the undercurrent of resentment had already existed.
And now—Lilia's words stirred that resentment into something sharper.
Nobody could stand watching another leap ahead so effortlessly.
"She's right! Everything is too easy for him."
"Why does he get to pick two Art Manuals?"
"He's being shown blatant favoritism."
The voices grew, rippling through the classroom, shifting the mood against Adlet.
The students, once mere spectators, now spoke in hushed tones, the quiet tension building with every word exchanged.
Still seated, Elara glanced at Adlet, her expression neutral—yet her thoughts betrayed a quiet satisfaction.
'He brought this upon himself.'
Across the room, Alina leaned back slightly, a faint smirk crossing her lips.
'Serves him right.'
And then there was Isolde.
She listened, her gaze flickering toward the students, a quiet sigh escaping her lips.
'This is plain stupidity.'
She hadn't expected her classmates to be so easily swayed.
Leon opened his mouth to protest—to declare outright, 'This is wrong!'—but no sound escaped his lips as only his lips moved. 𝔫𝖔𝔳𝔭𝔲𝔟.𝖈𝔬𝔪
A flicker of confusion flashed across his face as his voice failed him.
Only then did he realize—Althea had cast a Silence Spell on him.
His eyes snapped toward her, frustration evident as she met his gaze with calm amusement.
"Is he your long-lost brother?" Althea asked, her tone teasing yet firm.
"Why do you keep taking his side? Don't forget—he's the reason why everything took place in the Arts Hall and why you unjustly got punishment."
Leon, unwilling to remain bound, broke through her spell easily by using his Aura.
"He never asked us to fight." His voice returned, edged with certainty. "And Althea—you just broke the Academy's rules by casting a spell on me."
But Althea merely smiled, unfazed.
"Leon, you also broke the rule by using your Aura to break my spell."
Her words carried a playful lilt, yet beneath them lay undeniable logic.
Leon frowned, his sense of justice clashing against her reasoning.
"But that was self-defense."
Althea's smile deepened, a coy amusement flickering in her eyes.
"Heh~ It doesn't matter. As long as no one is harmed, everything is fine."
She leaned in slightly, her gaze holding his with practiced ease.
"And do you have proof I cast a spell on you?"
Leon opened his mouth, only to close it again.
The realization settled uncomfortably—he had already broken the spell, and he had no proof of her wrongdoing.
His frustration bubbled beneath his composure as he looked away from Althea, unable to counter her argument.
A faint chuckle lingered in Althea's thoughts as she watched him.
'How cute!'
There was something strangely endearing about seeing him sulk, but as warmth stirred in her chest, she suddenly shook her head, catching herself.
'Wait. Why am I acting like this?'
While a fleeting moment of spring bloomed in the corner of the classroom, the rest of the room erupted in rising discord.
What had started as murmured complaints had escalated into outright protests, voices clashing and overlapping as discontent spread like wildfire.
Among them, Daniel stepped forward, his voice joining the growing chorus of frustration.
Yet amidst the chaos, one voice cut through effortlessly.
"Keep shouting—that's also one way to accept reality."
Adlet's words weren't loud—they didn't need to be.
Like a blade slicing through the storm, his voice shattered the classroom uproar, forcing silence upon the students not by force, but by realization.
The protests died instantly, replaced by grudgeful stares, sharp and resentful.
Nobody was a fool.
They understood—to keep shouting was to confirm Adlet's words, to play into his hands.
And so, in silence, they festered.
But Lilia cold not let this momentum die.
Her voice, sharp yet controlled, carried a calculated edge, her next words aimed precisely where she wanted them to land.
"Reality? Does that reality also include the fact that the Academy allows you to break the rules without consequence?"
She had pulled her trump card, the very thought meant to shift the weight of perception against Adlet.
Lilia spoke with careful precision, her voice still carrying the tone of a wounded victim, as though she were merely asking for fairness.
Yet her words carried weight, forcing a shift in perspective throughout the classroom.
"I am sure everyone knows that no 'ordinary' student is allowed to enter the Academy grounds two hours after the allotted time.
Yet somehow—'Adlet' can.
He arrives after the Orientation Ceremony, slipping into the Academy as if rules do not apply to him.
And I am sure—not a single person here saw you at the Orientation Ceremony, did they?
So tell me—is this not favoritism?
Does this also belong to the 'reality' you speak of?
Should we simply—accept it as well?"
