NOVPUB| Victoria [14:06]
| I assume you've seen it by now.
| Or are you letting the suspense drag just to be dramatic?
Damien exhaled softly, amused.
He thumbed a reply—slow, deliberate.
| Damien [14:07]
| Is that your way of asking for my score, Langley?
| Or are you just anxious I'll outperform the notes you gave me?
From the front row, she sat with textbook posture—back straight, packet open in front of her—but she hadn't turned a single page since sitting down. Her fingers didn't twitch, her eyes didn't flinch.
But Damien could see it.
The flicker of movement.
The tilt of her head.
The way she kept her body still—because she was trying a little too hard not to look back.
Then another buzz.
| Victoria [14:08]
| Heh…
| I'm just curious if you'll finally learn your place after this.
| And stop bothering people with useless requests.
Damien's eyes stayed on her. That calm, composed silhouette. So proper. So neat. So sure.
He let the smirk rise again, slow and crooked.
| Damien [14:08]
| What happens if I perform better?
No pause.
The reply came sharp. Predictable.
| Victoria [14:08]
| You won't.
He leaned back just slightly in his chair.
Let the tension settle, stretch.
Then typed one more.
| Damien [14:09]
| What if I do?
She didn't answer right away.
Didn't turn. Didn't move.
But he caught it.
The faintest shift of her shoulders. The subtle tightening of her grip around the page. That single breath she took, too long for someone who claimed not to care.
Damien didn't need a response.
The silence was already louder than anything she could type.
He finally turned his gaze to the packet on his desk.
Still untouched.
But not for long.
The next buzz came quicker this time.
She hadn't ignored him.
| Victoria [14:10]
| Fine.
| If you really do perform better—
| I'll send you every note I take from now on. Without complaint.
There was a pause.
Another message followed almost immediately.
| Victoria [14:10]
| But if you don't—
| You'll swear to me you won't bring that up again. Ever.
| Not a word. Not a smirk. Not a single reference. Understood?
Damien stared at the screen, then let out a low laugh under his breath.
Oh, she was serious about this. Setting terms like it was a business deal. Like giving him her notes was some sacred privilege she had to protect with legal backup.
He flexed his fingers once, lazily, then typed.
| Damien [14:11]
| I don't need a bet to make you send notes.
| You'll send them if I want them, Langley.
And just as he hit send—
Victoria turned.
Not a glance.
A full turn.
Her head snapped around over her shoulder, sharp and immediate, eyes locking onto his like a challenge thrown straight across the battlefield.
Damien met her stare head-on.
Didn't blink.
Didn't look away.
He just smiled.
And tilted his chin up—casual, taunting.
As if to say: Go ahead. Deny it.
And then he had gotten another notification from the system right at that moment.
------------------
DING.
[Hidden Quest Progress: Irritating Perfection – 2/3]
Checkpoint Reached: Visible Emotional Disruption Achieved
-----------------
'Heh….that was easy as usual.'
*****
Victoria's fingers were still hovering over her phone, ready to fire back a furious message, when a voice broke the pressure.
"Vicky," Lillian said, peeking over with her usual casual grace, "how was your score?"
Victoria blinked.
The screen in her hand faded to black. Her glare flicked toward the front row again—toward him—before she pulled herself back into her chair with the practiced elegance of a Langley. Her expression folded into something cooler. Controlled.
Then she turned.
Victoria flipped her result packet open with a calm, deliberate motion—far calmer than she felt. Her emerald eyes flicked to the top corner of the first page.
Rank: 4
Her brows lifted just slightly.
She had overtaken Rank 4.
Finally.
"I'm fourth," she said, her voice cool but edged with a quiet, undeniable pride.
Lillian leaned closer to see, her eyes widening. "No way! You passed Grayling?"
Victoria gave a faint smile. "Apparently."
"Well then—congratulations, my dear," Lillian said, her voice musical. "That's impressive. Especially since the top five barely move."
Victoria nodded once, trying not to show how satisfying it felt to see that number. After everything—after Damien's infuriating messages, the emotional mess he stirred up—this felt like solid ground.
"Where did you place?" she asked, tone smooth as silk.
Lillian handed her paper over. "Eighth."
Victoria skimmed it. "Respectable."
A voice chimed in from behind them, playful and laced with just a hint of pride.
"Make room for nine."
Cassandra slid into view, waving her own results with a lazy smile. "I'm right behind you two."
Lillian blinked. "You actually made the top ten this time?"
"Rude." Cassandra stuck her tongue out, but her smile said she was too pleased with herself to be offended. "That literature question dump at the end saved me."
Celia sat in the midst of the lively chatter, her friends' voices rising and falling around her like a backdrop to her own thoughts. She hadn't even noticed that they were all gathered around her until Victoria spoke directly to her, breaking her focus.
"Celia?" Victoria's voice was softer now, tinged with curiosity. "Hey, is everything okay?"
Celia's eyes flicked up from the result packet she was holding, the number glaring at her from the top of the page. Rank: 11.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stared at the paper, her expression unreadable. The sharp lines of the numbers seemed to mock her, even though she had expected this. There had been too much happening—too much distraction, too much mental strain. But still...
Eleventh.
It was a harsh drop.
Her gaze flicked back up, meeting the concerned eyes of Victoria, Lillian, and Cassandra. They were all watching her closely now, their usual lighthearted chatter fading into silence as they took in her subdued demeanor. Her fingers tightened around the paper, and for a split second, her hand trembled.
This wasn't the reaction they expected.
"Eleventh?" Lillian asked, a touch of disbelief in her voice. "Celia, you've always been in the top five. What happened?"
Celia swallowed, her throat tight. She should have expected it, should have known that it would be noticed, but the reality of it stung more than she anticipated. How had she fallen so far? Eleventh place. A slip that seemed so small but felt like an entire world of difference.
"It's nothing," Celia replied, the words coming out a bit sharper than she intended. She immediately regretted it, but the frustration was still there—just under the surface, itching to break free.
But no one bought it. Not Victoria, not Lillian, and certainly not Cassandra, whose brow furrowed in genuine concern.
"No, really, Celia," Cassandra said, her voice gentle now. "You're always at the top. You've been stressing about something for days. Did something happen?"
Celia inhaled slowly, glancing at her results again. The 11, sitting there, so clear, so unyielding. It was her rank, and it hurt. But she didn't want to admit that. Not to them. Not when they looked at her like she was unraveling.
"I was distracted," Celia said quietly, her voice colder than she meant. "I had other things on my mind."
Victoria looked at her with a knowing gaze, her lips pressing together in that way she did when she was about to push the issue. "Celia, you've been off. For days now. What's going on?"
But Celia wasn't ready to say it—not here, not now. Not when the reality of her frustration still stung too much. She wanted to push the paper away, to tear it into pieces, to forget the number. But she didn't. Instead, she folded it carefully, placing it face down on the table.
"Nothing you need to worry about," she replied curtly, her voice slightly strained.
There was a long silence as her friends waited for her to say something more, but Celia's eyes were already turned elsewhere. She was done talking about it.
Cassandra, sensing the change in the air, exchanged a glance with Victoria and Lillian. She sighed lightly. "Well, don't let it get to you," she said, forcing a lighter tone. "Top ten isn't bad, right?"
"Yeah, it's just…" Lillian hesitated, her eyes flicking between Celia and the paper. "You're never one to let distractions get in the way of your performance. What happened?"
But Celia was done. She was tired of talking about it, tired of everyone hovering. She needed a break from all of it—the whispers, the distractions, the number, the stress.
"I'll be fine," she said, standing abruptly. "I'll catch up with you later."
With that, Celia turned away, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floors as she walked away from the table. The last thing she wanted to do was face more of their questions.
She just needed to be alone. To gather herself again.
