"Reputation spreads faster than truth. And in a place like this, attention can be more dangerous than any blade."
———
The moment I stepped away from the sparring floor, the noise of the arena rushed back like a tide crashing against stone.
Whispers followed me.
Not quiet ones. The kind people think you can't hear.
"Did you see that?"
"One strike…"
"She ended it instantly."
"Who is she?"
I kept walking.
The adrenaline from the duel still pulsed through my veins, sharp and electric. My hands felt warm, my breathing slower now, but my mind remained alert. In this academy, a moment of victory didn't mean safety. It meant attention. And attention could be dangerous.
Students parted subtly as I passed through the terraces. Some stepped aside quickly, avoiding my gaze. Others stared openly, curiosity burning in their eyes. A few looked irritated like my victory had personally offended them.
Seraphine walked on my left, arms loosely crossed, her expression thoughtful. Evangeline stayed on my right, scanning the terraces like she always did, her eyes catching every movement.
Neither of them spoke.
But the students around us did. And they were not subtle.
"Did you see Liora's face?"a boy whispered nearby. "She didn't even realize what happened."
Another snorted. "That girl moved like she's been doing this for years."
"Maybe she has,"someone else muttered.
I ignored them.
Then the tone of the whispers changed. Suddenly, conversations shifted upward—toward the private gallery.
"Wait… wait… look."
"What?"
"The gallery."
"The Top Ten?"
I glanced up instinctively. The private gallery above the arena was usually distant and silent, its shadowed seats reserved for the academy's highest-ranked students. Most of the time, they barely acknowledged first-years. But now, the terraces were stirring.
A group of students nearby leaned closer together.
"Is that…?"one of them murmured.
"No way," another said quickly.
"The Top Ten don't come down here."
"They only appear during official ceremonies."
"Yeah,"a girl added quietly, "like the Tenth Anniversary Celebration."
Someone beside her scoffed.
"That's when the mafia leaders visit the academy."
"The ones who actually run this place,"another whispered.
My attention sharpened. The academy was strange enough already, but hearing students talk openly about mafia leadership controlling it made the atmosphere feel heavier.
"They say all the major families come," a boy said quietly.
"Yakuza. Syndicates. Cartels."
"Every group that owns a piece of the academy."
"And the Top Ten appear with them."
"Like their heirs,"someone added.
"Or their future successors,"another said softly.
Seraphine muttered under her breath, "That's comforting."
Evangeline didn't react, but her gaze had shifted upward now.
Then the murmuring grew louder.
"Wait…"
"She's moving."
"Someone's coming down."
A ripple passed through the terraces. Students began stepping aside instinctively, clearing space along the stone walkway between the seating rows.
I turned.
A girl was descending from the upper terraces. She walked slowly, effortlessly, as if the entire arena already belonged to her. No guards. No announcement. But students moved out of her way without being told.
The effect was immediate. Silence spread wherever she passed.
Seraphine straightened slightly. "Well," she murmured, "that explains the panic."
I studied the girl carefully. She carried herself with effortless confidence, every movement graceful but deliberate. Her long pale hair caught the arena lights, shimmering as she moved. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something unmistakable about her presence.
Authority.
Not forced. Just… accepted.
The whispers started again.
"Is that really her?"
"Yeah. It has to be."
"I thought she never came down here."
"She doesn't."
"Then why now?"
"Because of the duel."
I pretended not to notice, but my attention had sharpened.
The girl stopped several rows away. Her gaze swept across the arena. Then it settled on me.
I felt it instantly. That quiet, steady focus.
Our eyes met for a brief moment. She tilted her head slightly, studying me as if I were something unusual. Something worth examining. A faint smile touched her lips. Not friendly. Not hostile. Just curious.
Seraphine leaned closer to me. "Do you know who that is?" she whispered.
I shook my head slightly. "No."
A boy behind us answered before Seraphine could.
"You're kidding, right?"
"You don't know who that is?"
Someone else whispered, "That's the Queenbee."
I blinked. The name landed like a weight in my chest.
"She's one of the elites,"another said.
"Top Ten."
"And not just any of them," someone added quietly.
"The dangerous kind."
Seraphine sighed quietly. "Well," she muttered, "that's just perfect."
Evangeline's gaze remained fixed on the girl. "She didn't come down for nothing," she said calmly.
Across the terrace, the Queenbee spoke quietly with a small group of students gathered around her. One of them laughed. "Honestly, it was probably luck. First-years get lucky sometimes."
Her eyes drifted back toward the sparring floor. Then slowly, they returned to me.
"One strike," she said softly. The group leaned closer. "Flawless."
A small silence followed. "Interesting," she added.
One of the girls beside her frowned slightly. "You think she's strong?"
The Queenbee's faint smile returned. "I think," she said lightly, "that she's not like the others."
Back on the terrace, Seraphine crossed her arms. "You realize what this means, right?" she murmured.
I looked away from the Queenbee. "What?"
Seraphine sighed. "You just got the attention of someone very powerful."
Evangeline nodded slightly. "And people like that," she added calmly, "don't watch without a reason."
I didn't respond. But my thoughts were already moving.
Because the way the Queenbee looked at me…
It didn't feel like curiosity.
It felt like she was trying to remember something.
And for a brief moment—just one heartbeat—the entire arena seemed to disappear beneath that gaze.
Something about her felt familiar.
And that realization unsettled me more than the duel ever did.
Because this wasn't just a girl from the Top Ten casually watching. The way she observed me—like every movement, every thought was visible to her—felt calculated, deliberate, almost predatory.
I could feel the ripple of whispers behind me, subtle but charged with fear and curiosity.
"Do you think she's dangerous?"
"Everyone says she's untouchable…"
"She doesn't just fight. She controls the room without moving a muscle."
Even among the first-years, I could see students shifting uncomfortably, sneaking glances at the Queenbee and then lowering their eyes as if meeting her gaze could summon trouble.
The rumors I'd heard in passing suddenly made sense: the Top Ten weren't just skilled fighters. They were political power, influence, and intimidation wrapped into a single presence. And this one—this Queenbee—was feared and admired in equal measure.
I felt Seraphine's hand brush my shoulder lightly. A grounding touch, subtle but firm.
"Don't let her stare unnerve you," she whispered. "People like that—elite like her—measure, assess, and remember. You've been noticed. That's all you need to know for now."
Evangeline's voice followed quietly, steady as always. "And being noticed by the Top Ten isn't something that disappears. Your actions in this arena will echo long after the duel is over."
I swallowed. My chest tightened. The duel had been over in moments, but now I realized the real fight wasn't just surviving the floor. It was surviving the reputation that came after it.
Every flick of movement, every choice I made, every small detail could now be dissected by someone far more powerful than me. And if she remembered me, if she had seen something familiar in my style, then I was no longer just a first-year among many.
I forced my breathing to slow, forcing my mind to focus. Observe. React. Survive.
Because this was more than an arena. This was a chessboard—and I had just moved a piece that someone far above the board had noticed.
I glanced again at the Queenbee, still standing effortlessly, her presence commanding attention even as she whispered to her admirers. And I knew, without a doubt: being seen by her changed everything.
Then, almost imperceptibly, she made a subtle gesture.
A student near her stepped forward with a folded note, but it never reached me. I didn't need it.
Farye's lips moved, just faintly, and I understood perfectly:
"We'll meet again."
A chill ran down my spine.
And then I caught it—a flicker in her eyes.
Not just recognition… something sharper. A spark of challenge. Rivalry. She was already sizing me up, calculating, measuring my limits.
My pulse quickened. I could feel it in my bones: she wasn't merely curious. She was a competitor. Someone I would have to outmaneuver in more than just the arena.
I forced my breathing to steady, but my gut told me the truth: this wasn't over. Not even close.
Her smile lingered, sharp and deliberate.
It wasn't curiosity. It was recognition. And it was a warning.
I knew, with a certainty that chilled me, that she wouldn't let this go and that our rivalry had only just begun.