Tiffany’s eyes sharpened like knives as she looked at Yeri, then swept over the classmates seated around. "You’re all being fooled! Can’t you see? Yeri’s using this mixer as an excuse to get close to my brother Marco!"
"Shut up," Marco said sharply.
But it was too late, the moment Tiffany run behind him, practically clinging to his back like a scared kitten already sent a very loud message that there was still something between them.
Because otherwise, why else would she show up here? Why insult Yeri as a "mistress" if she and Marco were truly over?
Tiffany, who usually barked at everyone, especially Yeri, was suddenly meek, biting her lip when Marco scolded her. She didn’t say another word, just kept glaring at Yeri like she was praying for her spontaneous combustion.
Nina chuckled, arms crossed. "Ex-girlfriend, huh? Senior, don’t you feel the tiniest bit guilty denying Tiffany when she showed up here despite looking like she got hit by a truck?"
One of the girls nodded in agreement. "I was the one who arranged this mixer, by the way. Yeri didn’t even know who the guys were. I only invited her and Nina at the last minute because two of our friends bailed."
Tiffany refused to back down. Her grudge against Yeri ran deeper than reason. "Did you even ask why they bailed? Maybe Yeri scared them off. Did you consider that? Are you sure she didn’t know Brother Marco would be here?"
Yeri raised an eyebrow. "Then why don’t you ask your Brother Marco what he’s doing here? Did you not hear him earlier? He said you two broke up ages ago."
Nina smirked, adding with exaggerated pity, "Tiffany... guys don’t like obsessive girls. Stalking your ex-boyfriend to a mixer isn’t very classy for a rich girl."
Tiffany looked like she was about to explode and toss aside the last shreds of her "young lady" image, but Marco stepped in quickly for damage control.
"You don’t have to bully her," he said, trying to sound noble. "Can’t you tell she’s not in a good condition?"
Yeri raised an eyebrow. Wow. He really does have Tiffany wrapped around his finger.
As expected, Tiffany turned to him with glittering eyes, looking like she’d just heard the voice of an angel instead of a low-tier manipulator.
Nina, sharp-tongued and allergic to nonsense, sneered. "Oh? So now you’re admitting you two are still together? A scumbag and an idiot what a perfect match! I support your relationship. May you stay together forever, never break up, and leave decent people alone."
Yeri had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. Even Marco’s polished, gentlemanly mask cracked a little.
"That’s not it," Marco replied, now clearly annoyed. He looked at Nina with thinly veiled hostility. "Tiffany’s still a girl, just like you. Why do you have to be so harsh? Just because she’s my ex doesn’t mean I should disrespect her. Can’t we just... talk it out instead of arguing?"
Yeri caught the look on Tiffany’s face, grievance mixed with stubborn denial. She clearly didn’t agree with the "ex" label, but she wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud now.
Yeri crossed her arms. "Pretending to defend Tiffany while dodging your own faults? Senior, has it ever occurred to you to just take accountability?" Her voice grew colder with every word. "Yes, we’re just high schoolers, young, maybe naive but we’re not stupid. Don’t play the ’bigger person’ while trying to steer the conversation away from what really matters."
Her eyes bore into him with clear disgust. "Since you want to talk, let’s talk. Right here. With everyone here as witnesses."
Marco stiffened, clearly uncomfortable. His whole act, the misunderstood nice guy, the peacemaker was starting to unravel.
Did he really think she didn’t see through him? The fake chivalry, the subtle narrative shift, the way he positioned himself as some hot commodity with two girls fighting over him? It was disgusting.
Yeri leaned in just a little, voice laced with sharpness. "Why don’t you explain, clearly, why Tiffany thinks I’m seducing you? Or, in her words, a mistress?"
The group went silent. All eyes turned to Marco and Tiffany, expressions a mix of curiosity, judgment, and gossip.
Marco looked cornered, lips parting but no sound coming out. Instead of answering Yeri, he turned to Tiffany like a man seeking backup from a dog that had suddenly turned into a kitten.
"Tiffany," he said, voice strained but still trying to sound calm, "I know you’ve always been... willful. But can you please not say things that make people misunderstand? Didn’t we already break up?"
Tiffany flinched, her red-rimmed eyes widening. Then she burst into tears.
Yeri resisted the urge to yawn. This Tiffany is really something, for a scumbag, she’s willing to be wronged like a tragic heroine instead of her usual tyrant demeanor.
Marco looked down at her as if her tears were sacred, then turned back to Yeri with an expression of wounded nobility. "Yeri, I sincerely apologize. I don’t know what happened between you and Tiffany. If she wronged you, I’m sorry on her behalf."
Marco sighed dramatically, entire thing had been so hard for him. "When I broke up with Tiffany, I wanted to be honest. I told her the truth...that I’d fallen for someone else."
He paused, looking at Yeri with an expression so full of longing, like he was struck by some love arrow, it made her stomach churn.
"I didn’t realize that mentioning your name would cause you trouble. You’re right. You didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess. You just got unlucky... being liked by someone like me."
Yeri rolled her eyes, suddenly losing all interest.
A man like Marco Fabian was a lost cause, someone who’d never reflect, never take accountability, and certainly never admit fault.
And with a love-struck fool like Tiffany clinging to him, willing to be a trash can for a trash like him, it was clear she’d rather swallow all the blame and humiliation than risk upsetting and losing him for good.
"Not just unlucky," Nina muttered with a scoff, "it’s a full-blown calamity. If you really feel sorry, then stay a hundred miles away from our Yeri."
"It’s not his fault..." a small voice chimed in. "Is liking someone a crime? He wasn’t the one who fought with Yeri."
Everyone blinked. Only then did they remember Rita was still there. She’d been so quiet, so still, that her sudden defense of Marco actually startled a few.
Nina opened her mouth to reply with another spicy comeback, but Yeri gently touched her arm and shook her head.
They’d wasted enough time entertaining clowns.
As the two girls turned to leave, Yeri paused. She looked at Tiffany who still wore her venomous glare like a badge of honor, and spoke in a low, steady voice. Her tone wasn’t sharp this time, but strangely sincere.
"I never liked your boyfriend," she said. "Even if you two really broke up, I still wouldn’t like him. Not today. Not ever. So instead of accusing me of seducing him, maybe try looking closer... The one with those intentions might be just standing right next to you."
Rita visibly flinched. Her expression cracked, an uneasy mix of guilt and anxiety.
Tiffany, of course, missed the point entirely. She just assumed Yeri was stirring up more drama and shot her a glare laced with poison.
Yeri gave Rita a slow, knowing look, but didn’t say anything else. She turned and walked out with Nina, head held high.
That moment in the Dean’s office, Rita calling Marco "Brother" with such careful intimacy had set off alarm bells in Yeri’s head.
Now, after today’s confrontation, she was even more certain: there was something going on between them.
And maybe not just Rita.
Cherry, too? After all, a professional scumbag like Marco Fabian probably didn’t limit himself to just one spare tire.
Why not hoard a whole collection?
The more Yeri thought about it, the more she realized something else: maybe Tiffany wasn’t even the topdog of her little trio. She was just the loudest. Rita and Cherry, those two backup mouths could each have their own hidden agendas.
After all, Tiffany might be impulsive and love-blind, but she came from a powerful, wealthy family. That made her a valuable "friend" outweighing the consequences against benefits and interests Tiffany brought.
It was just like Marco. Saying she was an "ex," but still stringing her along.
Why let go of a rich fool when she’s still willing to be dragged?
Still, Yeri didn’t pity Tiffany. No one forced her to behave this way. This mess was of her own making.
As for Marco, he wore a sour expression. He had clearly heard Yeri’s parting words. And nothing bruised a man like him more than being flatly told he was utterly ’unlikable.’
Once Yeri and Nina left, silence lingered over the table like a fog. The other girls exchanged glances, then, one by one, stood up with awkward excuses.
None of them wanted to stick around.
Who could blame them? If Marco Fabian came with a possessive ex like Tiffany attached, what about the other guys associated with him?
Did they also have deranged exes waiting to leap out from behind corners?
Marco had clearly underestimated Tiffany’s reputation. Maybe she acted sweet to him, but on campus? She was practically a villain.
Over the years, she’d offended half the female student body, and with Yeri’s earlier revelations about the bathroom incident, her attempted attack and Cherry still hospitalized, it was enough to make anyone reconsider their standards.
Who wanted a man who couldn’t even keep a clean break with his ex? Who wanted to deal with random confrontations in cafés and threats in alleyways?
Seeing everyone leave, Marco’s friends grew visibly annoyed. Confused. Some scratched their heads. Two of the guys, clearly fed up, stood with matching scowls.
"If you’re still hung up on your ex, why did you even come?" one muttered before walking off.
"Seriously. They probably think we’re the same. I really wanted to talk to Lisa..." the other sighed and followed.
With Yeri gone and his reputation shattered, Marco dropped the gentleman act. His face darkened. Without a word, he yanked Tiffany by the arm, ignoring her complaints that she was still injured.
Rita quickly moved to follow, but Marco didn’t even look at her.
He shoved Tiffany into his car like a bag of laundry and drove off, tires screeching.
Rita stood by the curb, staring after the car, sunglasses hiding her expression.