Yeri tilted her head and let out a soft sigh. "I see... if that’s the case, then I don’t have to worry."
Tiffany blinked, momentarily thrown off. That wasn’t the response she expected. She thought Yeri would cry, beg, or panic.
"A-Are you crazy?" Tiffany stammered. "You finally lost your mind? If you apologize and admit you seduced Brother Marco, I might go easy on you and leave half your face intact."
Yeri, utterly unbothered, smiled as she set the mop down gently. Her expression was serene, almost glowing, and for a moment the three were stunned—not by fear, but by beauty so flawless it made their jealousy boil over.
"What are you smiling for?" Backup Mouth #1 snapped. "We’re not boys. That alluring act won’t work on us!"
Tiffany, sensing the shift, quickly turned and locked the classroom door from the inside. "Forget the face," she hissed. "Just beat her up first!"
Yeri’s smile deepened.
Now she didn’t have to worry about interruptions.
Just as the two lunged again, grabbing her arms with more force this time—
Yeri twisted her shoulder free with surprising strength, flipping Backup Mouth #2 over her hip. The girl hit the floor with a thud, wheezing in pain.
Before Backup Mouth #1 could react, Yeri turned and grabbed her by the collar, pushing her back against the wall with unexpected precision.
Their eyes widened in disbelief.
This wasn’t the fragile, sickly girl they remembered. This wasn’t even the Yeri they thought they knew.
This Yeri was dangerous.
And worse, she wasn’t angry.
She was calm. Too calm.
And that was terrifying.
Indeed, it was terrifying, because what they were seeing wasn’t real.
The moment the three lunged to attack, Yeri raised her hand gently, as if reaching out to the air. Her lips moved, uttering words only she could hear or understand. For a brief second, unnoticed by the others, her eyes turned scarlet red.
She wasn’t sure if she still had the ability, or if her body could handle it, but she did it anyway, drawing from fragmented memories.
Hallucination barrier.
To the three girls, it looked like Yeri had fought back effortlessly. In truth, they were standing frozen, like puppets caught in a pause between frames.
Yeri let out a quiet, amused laugh, though a metallic tang flooded her mouth. She tasted blood.
So... she still had the ability and she still remembered how to use it.
But the cost was brutal.
A searing pain surged through her veins, like fire replacing her blood. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest, and her knees nearly buckled under the strain. The backlash was vicious. When she was a succubus, this was the weakest ability in her arsenal, something she could cast as easily as breathing.
But now... she was human.
And the human body just couldn’t handle it.
"Damn it," Yeri cursed silently, holding onto the wall for balance.
Meanwhile, inside the illusion, Tiffany pointed furiously, eyes gleaming with theatrical confidence. "She just got lucky! You two, attack together!"
Oh, they were attacking alright. Just not her.
Right before her eyes, the three girls launched themselves at each other—screaming, scratching, yanking hair, throwing punches. In the hallucination she cast, each of them saw Yeri in the others.
To them, it must look like they were finally giving her the punishment they imagined.
And since they hated her face so much, she graciously gave them the chance to destroy it—threefold.
She wasn’t responsible for who ended up bruised, bloody, or broken.
Leaning against the wall, Yeri made her way slowly to the door, each step heavy and agonizing. Her skin burned, her bones ached, and she felt as if her soul had been scraped raw. But before she left, she turned around and walked over to Tiffany who stood dazed in the illusion, and slapped her. Hard.
Just like that, without hesitation. Tiffany’s head turned side to side with each blow, eyes blank and unseeing.
Yeri’s voice was quiet but bitter. "I’m my parents’ beloved daughter. They never once raised a hand against me. But you, an unrelated stranger thought it was your right to slap me just because your scumbag boyfriend dumped you?"
She wanted to hit her more. Really. But her body felt like it was about to collapse.
Her chest burned. Her eyelids grew heavier.
Outside the restroom, she could still hear the chaos—screaming, screeching, hair-pulling. The sounds of ego and violence clashing like wild chickens and dogs in a cage.
Yeri pulled out her phone and sent a short message to Levi and Nina.
[Yeri: I’m sorry... suddenly not feeling well. Can’t come to the café today. Maybe some other time. <3]
Then, dragging her feet one step at a time, she headed for the teachers’ office.
When she arrived, her presence made heads turn.
The class teacher, still working overtime, looked up in alarm. "Who’s fighting?" she asked, upon hearing Yeri’s report.
"Tiffany Rhian... and her two friends," Yeri said softly. "They’re in the second floor restroom. I tried to stop them but... Tiffany slapped me instead."
She didn’t fake a single word but she also didn’t need to mention what truly transpired.
The class teacher shot up from her seat along with the match and PE teacher.
But before rushing out, she paused. Her eyes fell on Yeri—slightly trembling, her skin pale except for the reddened imprint of a slap. Sweat clung to her forehead, her breathing shallow.
"Student Yeri... you don’t look well. Go to the clinic. Right away."
Yeri nodded faintly, and the math teacher stepped forward to accompany her.
By the time she reached the school clinic, she could barely walk straight. She didn’t wait for the school nurse to come or even sit down. She headed straight for the empty cot in the back, climbed up, and collapsed onto the mattress.
Her limbs were on fire.
But gradually, the pain began to fade. Like water dousing coals, her body started cooling down. Her breaths slowed. Her fingers relaxed.
It was the kind of exhaustion that reached deep into her bones. Like she hadn’t rested in weeks. Her body sank into the bed, heavy and limp.
Outside, the chaos continued.
But for now, Yeri finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Meanwhile, at the same time...
Calin Ricci felt like she was sitting on needles.
For weeks, she had been waiting, scraping for any scrap of information, chasing dead ends. She bribed staff at Neri Medical Hospital, pulled every string she could reach, all to get her hands on the CCTV footage from the day she visited Shin Keir.
But the answer was always the same: "The footage was deleted the next day."
As expected of Shin Keir, always meticulous and always one step ahead. But instead of discouraging her, it only added fuel to her burning suspicion. It confirmed what Marianne Vega had said...that someone had been hiding in the comfort room while Calin was being humiliated by Shin Keir.
Someone had witnessed it.
Someone Shin Keir had gone out of his way to protect.
But why was she hiding?
If it were her, she would’ve taken full advantage of Shin Keir’s favor, announce their relationship publicly, hire a few paparazzi, leak intimate photos, and start trending online.
That was how things were done. That was how power was asserted.
Could it be...the woman wasn’t anyone worth acknowledging?
If she were important, if she were someone Shin intended to introduce to the world, why go through so much trouble to erase her tracks?
She was just a plaything, a temporary indulgence, easily discarded when the thrill faded.
And yet, the idea that someone, anyone, was being favored over her was unbearable.
Frustrated and out of leads, Calin did what she swore she wouldn’t do for the time being: she stormed into her brother Sergei’s office. Again.
The last time they’d spoken, it ended in a huge fight. And with her prideful nature, apologizing first was impossible. But when it came to pulling strings, no one had deeper roots than Sergei Ricci.
Sergei’s eyes narrowed the moment he saw her. "This is my office, Calin. If you dare act crazy again, I’ll have security throw you out."
Everyone at Ricci Corporation knew who she was—the heiress, the spoiled princess, so no one dared block her path. Still, Sergei’s threat was real. He didn’t care for theatrics, even if it meant dragging his sister out by force.
Calin raised both hands in mock surrender, her voice sugar-coated. "Relax. I’m not here to fight." She placed a small thermal container on his desk. "It’s almost dinner. I brought you chicken soup from home. Mom said you’ve been skipping meals and avoiding meat again."
Sergei’s expression twitched. The mention of meat made him visibly uncomfortable. No one knew why he avoided it, especially red meat, but it had something to do with what happened back in high school.
Suppressing a grimace, Sergei stared at the container like it held poison. "Save me the hypocrisy. You didn’t come here because you care about me. What do you really want?"
Calin’s fake smile vanished.
Right. She didn’t need to pretend in front of him.
"You know exactly why I’m here."
"Oh?" Sergei drawled, lazily flipping through some documents. "I thought you said you could handle Shin Keir yourself. Are you finally admitting you can’t control that monster?"
Calin stomped her heel against the floor in frustration. "It’s not him! You said it yourself, he’s hiding a woman! Did you find out who that bitch is? Who dares to compete with me?!"
Sergei didn’t even look at her. "No idea. And thanks to you, I’m neck-deep in work."
He slammed a folder on the desk and stood, his tone cold with exasperation. "Tell me, Calin, what exactly did you do to make that bastard keep targeting us? Do you have any idea how much money we’re losing every day? Every minute?"
Calin crossed her arms with an air of defiance, completely unfazed. "Wasn’t it just a delay in materials?"
Sergei laughed, sharp and bitter. He ran a hand through his hair in disbelief.
What was he thinking, trying to reason with her?
Calin Ricci’s world had always revolved around herself. And Shin Keir. The rest of reality like finances, family, partnerships, meant little to her.