Just when Limone thought she couldn’t endure another second, Sophie arrived, late as always.

“I’m so sorry,” Sophie gasped, half-jogging toward them, her voice light with breathless apologies. “I was talking to Sixon and the others about the competition and completely lost track of time.”

Norton remained unruffled, his tone sharp-edged beneath a mask of calm. “It’s fine,” he said. “At least you’re contributing to the family effort. Better than some freeloaders who do nothing but bite the hand that feeds them.”

The driver, a patient older man, waved off the apology. “Not a problem. I’ll drive faster to make up the time.”

In the end, though, they were still late.

When the two of them reached the classroom door, they were met with the disapproving stare of their homeroom teacher, who caught them red-handed.

Sophie’s face turned pale as she worked to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry, Teacher. It’s all my fault. I got held up and made Limone late with me.” Her words tripped over themselves, spilling out in quick, self-effacing sincerity.

Limone, stone-faced, said nothing.

The teacher’s gaze softened at Sophie’s explanation. “I understand,” she said, her tone almost gentle. “You don’t need to explain so much. Go on in.”

“Thank you, Teacher,” Sophie replied, offering a grateful smile as she slipped inside.

Limone moved to follow, but not before the teacher’s voice, sharp and cutting now, stopped her in her tracks. “Limone, don’t drag Sophie down with you again. Don’t let this happen a second time.”

Limone turned, meeting the teacher’s eyes squarely. “Teacher, Sophie already said it was her fault I was late.”

The teacher’s brows drew together, her expression a mixture of skepticism and scorn. “I know perfectly well what kind of person you are, Limone. Do you think I’m blind to your attitude? One more excuse from you, and you can stand outside for the rest of the lesson.”

Limone could feel her frustration burning just beneath the surface but swallowed it down. Missing class was not an option; she was already too far behind. Without another word, she walked into the room, her mood dark and storm-heavy.

God, let the exams come quickly, she thought bitterly. The sooner they’re over, the sooner I can escape all of this.

By lunchtime, the classroom had transformed into Sophie’s stage. A crowd of classmates surrounded her, their eyes lit with envy as she gushed about professional gaming teams and upcoming competitions.

One of Sophie’s sycophantic followers glanced pointedly in Limone’s direction. “Some people are probably just jealous of Sophie and trying to hold her back. That’s why they’d deliberately make everyone late.”

Sophie smiled faintly but made no effort to set the record straight.

Limone, her head resting on the desk, ignored them entirely. Instead, she closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep through the lunch break—and through their petty chatter.

Later that afternoon, as everyone packed up to leave, Sophie lingered, making a point to speak loud enough for Limone to hear. “I’ve got training at the camp tonight,” she said, her voice a heady mix of pride and condescension.

Limone ignored her, slipping her books neatly into her bag and heading out the door without a backward glance.

Behind her, she could hear Sophie’s smug tone as she addressed her closest lackey. “Remember, you’re covering for me with the homework again. And don’t let the teacher catch on.”

“Don’t worry!” the girl chirped. “Go chase your dreams at the camp. We’ve got your back.”

“Thanks so much,” Sophie replied, a self-satisfied smile curling her lips. “I’ll make sure you’re all rewarded.”

As Sophie sauntered off, her thoughts brimming with visions of triumph, she clenched her fists. This time, she vowed, Limone would know her place. Sophie was, after all, the most fitting little sister for the Lane family.

*****

Limone, oblivious or indifferent to Sophie’s scheming, walked straight to the infirmary after class.

Charles was there, seated with his usual air of composed detachment. As Limone stepped inside, his dark eyes flicked toward her, one brow quirking upward with mild amusement. “What’s the emergency?”

Clearing her throat, she said, “I came to do my homework. Please let me stay.”

Without waiting for permission, Limone made herself at home, moving through the room as if it belonged to her. Charles watched her, clearly bemused.

He had half expected her to stay away, cowed by his earlier criticisms. But here she was—bold, unafraid, settling in as if his sharp tongue had left no mark on her at all.

Still, he didn’t hold back when she presented him with what should have been a simple question. “For God’s sake,” he snapped, “is your brain a sieve? Every answer just leaks straight out. Figure out the easy ones yourself next time!”

Limone didn’t argue, her pen moving unceasingly as she jotted down his corrections, absorbing his reprimands without protest.

Silence filled the room until her stomach, betraying her, let out an obnoxiously loud growl. Limone’s face flushed bright red. She’d eaten a roll earlier, but it hadn’t done much.

Charles checked the time, then picked up his phone, ordering takeout without a word. When the food arrived, he opened the container and placed it on the desk between them. “Eat,” he said simply.

Sitting across from him, Limone’s gaze drifted to the faint scars on his wrist. She hesitated, then asked softly, “When was your accident? Was it bad?”

Charles didn’t answer immediately. He unwrapped the utensils with deliberate care, his expression distant, as though peering through a haze of memory. “It was a long time ago,” he finally said.

“I was in one too,” Limone offered after a beat. Her voice was quieter now, a thread of unresolved pain running beneath her words. “My parents didn’t make it. After that, it was just me and my brothers.” She laughed, but the sound was hollow, self-mocking. “We were close once, back when life was rougher and we only had each other. But then Sophie came along, and everything changed.”

Charles didn’t reply, though his hand tightened imperceptibly around the chopsticks.

“What’s your plan now?” he asked after a long pause, his tone brusque.

“I’m going to get into Summit University,” Limone said, her voice firm despite the odds. “I want to leave this city and start over.”

Charles snorted, shaking his head. “Summit University? With your grades? You’d need a miracle.”

“There’s still some time left,” she said, undeterred. “I’ll make it happen.”

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, unreadable, before he lowered his eyes back to his own food. “Don’t waste my time with questions you should already know the answers to.”

Limone smiled faintly at his half-hearted reprimand. So that meant she could still ask him—sometimes, at least?

For several days in a row, Limone lingered in the infirmary after school, staying just long enough to finish her homework before heading home.

Sophie, meanwhile, had become increasingly distracted in class, dozing off at her desk more often than not—all because of her newfound obsession with training for their game.

Of course, Sophie had no trouble brushing it off. She was one of the teachers’ favorites, and a simple claim of not feeling well was all it took for them to wave the matter aside.

Limone couldn’t help but notice Sophie’s social media posts: pictures from training camp, clips of her in-game victories shoulder-to-shoulder with her so-called “brothers.” Their usernames, all part of a cohesive theme, flashed on the screen—strangely familiar. They were the same as in her previous life. The difference? Back then, she hadn’t been part of it.

“Slacking off on homework, and you still want to play games?”

Charles’s voice cut through her thoughts. He stood beside her, glancing at the gaming video on her phone.

Limone shook her head quickly. “No, just watching. Right now, studying is my priority.”

He folded his arms and leaned slightly toward her. “Next week’s monthly exams. If you can get into the top one hundred, then I’ll allow you to play.”

She tilted her head back to grin up at him. “Then, Master, will you play with me?”

She knew he dabbled in the game himself.

Charles lowered his gaze, his profile as striking and composed as ever. “It’s been a while since I played. Let’s see if you make it first.”

Her smile widened. “It’s a promise, then.”

As he walked away, she watched his back disappear down the hallway, determination flickering in her eyes. She would make it into the top one hundred, no matter what. Charles always acted so certain of his prowess—well, just wait.

In her past life, she had been a skilled player too.

Maybe, just maybe, she could surprise him in the game and steal back a sliver of her long-lost pride. The thought filled her with a sudden spark of excitement.

After finishing her homework, Limone headed home. But as she stepped into the grand hall, she froze. Sitting on the living room sofa was her second brother, Sutton.

Her heart skipped a beat. Why was he back early?

The past several days, all the brothers had been at training camp, usually returning well into the night.

Sutton looked up from where he sat, his tone stern. “Where were you? Why are you home so late?”

Limone’s chest tightened. He couldn’t find out she had been hiding in the infirmary. That place was her only refuge, her last bit of solace.

Eyes fixed to the floor, she answered placidly, “I went to a study hall. There were more people there—it felt better for focusing.”

“Give me your bag.”

Clutching her breath, Limone handed it over. Sutton rummaged through her books and notebooks, flipping through pages filled with meticulous notes, even a well-organized mistake log.

He looked up at her, suspicion swimming behind his tired eyes.

The housekeeper had mentioned that Limone hadn’t been coming home on time lately. He’d been certain she was up to something. But now? She really had been studying.

Sutton set her bag back down and leveled a look at her. “Lemon, we need to talk.”

Her voice was steady, almost unbothered. “Sutton, what’s there to talk about?”

Something about her carried an edge of steel. She stood so quietly before him, yet it unnerved him—because somewhere along the way, Limone had changed. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly, only that the limpid, easily flustered girl of the past had melted away.

Back then, she would have burst into tears at his scolding, probably run straight to complain to the eldest brother. But now? Nothing. Not a word of protest.

And that quiet rebellion felt maddeningly outside his control.

Sutton cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “Lately, Sophie’s made remarkable progress. If you joined her at training, you could grow with her. You’re talented, Limone. You could carve out time for camp without it hurting your studies. Isn’t it better for our family to stick together? Easton will be back soon. Don’t you think he’d be happy to see us united and harmonious?”

Limone bowed her head slightly, but the derision in her eyes was razor-sharp. When she spoke, her voice was unwavering. “I don’t want to join the team.”

“Limone, Sophie is part of our family. You are too. We need to grow together, not push each other away. The only one drawing lines here is you. Her father saved your life, for heaven’s sake!”

Sutton exhaled, frustrated. How could she not understand how much easier they were making life for her? Everything they did for Sophie—they did it out of gratitude, out of duty.

The vast hall fell into a cold silence. The air itself grew oppressive, each breath heavier than the last.

Limone’s hands trembled as she clenched them into tight fists at her sides. She was perilously close to breaking.

To hell with this!

Her laugh came bitter and biting. “Is that it, Sutton? Should I just hand over my life to Sophie so you’ll finally be satisfied?”