In reality, Brucey's learning progress was much faster than her classmates; she didn't need to come to school at all.
After all, she wasn't trying to catch up to these ordinary students, but to her older sister.
Even if she didn't attend school, she could achieve excellent grades by studying at home.
But she... was afraid Alfred would worry, and afraid her sister would worry.
Alfred was running around, and her sister, though the same age as her, had to manage the funeral.
To avoid making them work harder, she still obediently came to school.
Taking a deep breath, Brucey cast aside all the messy thoughts in her mind, intending to return to her seat.
Just then, she saw three classmates standing in the middle of the aisle ahead, chatting about something.
Brucey wasn't curious about what they were discussing; she just wanted to quickly get back to her seat.
So, she chose to take a detour.
But to her surprise, as soon as she changed direction, the three of them, as if on purpose, also moved their feet, blocking her path again.
Brucey's heart tightened, and her brows furrowed. She changed direction again, trying to avoid them.
However, the three of them seemed to be playing a game with her, blocking her once more.
Seeing this, some of the surrounding classmates showed worried expressions but dared not step forward to intervene.
Others, with a mindset of watching a good show, whispered among themselves.
Finally, Brucey couldn't hold back and, with a cold face, reprimanded, "What are you doing?"
But the three of them acted as if they hadn't heard her, still laughing heartily to themselves, as if everything just now was merely a coincidence and they were just chatting.
This time, the three finally looked at her. The boy leading them, with a hint of a sneer on his face, called out in a sarcastic tone, "Oh, isn't this Miss Wayne? What's wrong, not in a good mood?"
As he spoke, he exchanged glances with the two classmates beside him, then burst into a round of piercing laughter.
Brucey bit her lower lip, suppressing the hurt and anger within her, and said with a frosty face, "I need to get through."
Although she was trying hard to endure, her voice was already trembling.
It wasn't from fear; it was from anger.
Hearing this, the smile on the lead boy's face grew wider, filled with mockery: "So what? Have your parents pave the way for you with money, esteemed Miss Wayne?" He deliberately emphasized the words "esteemed," his tone full of contempt.
At this moment, one of the boys next to him chimed in, with a gloating expression: "Brother, don't forget, she doesn't have parents anymore, they're dead. She's a complete orphan."
As soon as these words were uttered, the three burst into laughter again, their laughter like sharp daggers, piercing directly into Brucey's heart.
The fury in Brucey's heart could no longer be suppressed; her eyes were red with anger, and she shouted, "Get out of the way!"
Seeing Brucey's reaction, the three boys not only didn't move but became even more excited.
A sly glint flashed in the lead boy's eyes, and he suddenly pulled a butterfly knife from his pocket. With a "swish," it unfolded, its blade glinting with a cold light in the sunlight filtering through the window.
He gripped the knife, suddenly turned, and aimed it at the other two boys, a nearly insane desire to perform on his face.
"Robbery! Everyone, be honest!" he yelled, mimicking a vicious robber, his voice sharp and grating.
As he shouted, he brandished the butterfly knife in his hand, his exaggerated movements and distorted expression as if he truly believed this was a crime scene.
And his two subordinates, understanding tacitly, cooperated. They linked arms, feigning panic, and one of them, in a high-pitched voice, said, "Oh dear, what shall we do, my dear, we've met bad people!"
The other feigned fear and responded, "Don't be afraid, darling, we are Wayne! He wouldn't dare do anything to us!"
As they spoke, they occasionally glanced at Brucey from the corners of their eyes, their faces full of smugness and mockery.
The lead boy, wildly brandishing the butterfly knife, yelled in his grating voice, "Hmph, as long as you hand over your daughter, nothing will happen!"
A twisted smile hung on his face, his eyes gleaming with madness and malice, as if he was enjoying this torment of Brucey.
"That's great, we'll give you our daughter then, so we won't die!" The boy playing Mr. Wayne quickly nodded, his expression so exaggerated as if he were truly facing a life-or-death crisis, abandoning his daughter without hesitation, as if afraid the robber would change his mind.
"Exactly, exactly! If our daughter dies, we can still live, how wonderful!" The other boy playing Mrs. Wayne also chimed in, and as he spoke, he hypocritically squeezed out a few tears, looking as if he was truly relieved to be able to sacrifice his daughter for his own life.
These words, like a heavy hammer, struck Brucey's heart deeply. She instantly froze, her feet seemingly nailed to the ground, unable to move. Her eyes, which had been red with anger, now suddenly lost focus, leaving only endless emptiness and despair.
Her lips trembled slightly, but no sound escaped, and her body swayed uncontrollably, as if she could be struck down at any moment by this sudden malice.
Yes... would it be better if she just died... if it had been her who died in that alley!
Why wasn't it her who died!
Why!
Just then, with a loud "crash," the classroom window was suddenly shattered by something.
It was winter, and the window had been tightly closed. This sudden impact sent glass shards flying everywhere.
The lead boy, who had been playing the robber and wildly brandishing the butterfly knife, felt a sharp pain on the back of his hand, as if he had been struck by something.
He instinctively let go, and the butterfly knife clattered to the floor.
Before the boy could recover from the pain in his hand, he felt a strong hand tightly grip his neck, lifting him entirely.
His feet dangled, and he flailed frantically, his hands instinctively trying to pry away the hand clutching his throat, but the other person's strength was astonishing.
"Oh, Mr. Robber, GCPD! Put down your weapon." A clear voice, yet with the same sarcastic tone they had just used, came from the newcomer.
The boy's eyes widened in terror, wanting to see who it was, but his neck was so tightly squeezed that he could only struggle to move his eyeballs.
"Ah, so you've already put down your weapon." The female voice carried a hint of mockery. Immediately after, the boy felt a blur before his eyes, and he was casually thrown, crashing heavily onto a desk not far away.
With a "bang," the desk shook, and some of its legs even became unstable.
The newcomer quickly picked up the butterfly knife from the floor and skillfully twirled it in her hand, the practiced movement dazzling to behold.
Then, with a "thud," the butterfly knife was viciously plunged into the desk next to the boy's head, the blade sinking into the surface, leaving only the hilt trembling slightly.
The boy screamed in terror, his voice sharp and shrill, echoing through the classroom. His face instantly turned ashen, his eyes filled with fear, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably.