When Limone heard the principal’s words, she was taken aback. She hadn’t expected him to bring this up.

Her gaze flicked to Sixon and Sophie, seated across from her. She met their eyes with a calm self-assurance, a hint of detachment in her expression.

But Sixon’s face betrayed him—an uncharacteristic awkwardness twisted his features. Once, Limone had been the one chasing after him, never putting him in difficult situations. He had always carried himself with the untouchable authority of the elder sibling.

Now, being asked to apologize? It was more painful to him than any physical punishment.

Sophie cut in quickly, her voice bright but just shy of saccharine. “Limone, since when did you become so impressive? Studying in secret at home without telling us? We had no idea! You did so well you got accused of cheating, and who rushed to the school first thing to help you? Sixon did. He’s actually really good to you.”

She cast Sixon a sidelong glance, laying down an easy escape for him. Taking the hint, he spoke coldly. “Soph, stop. Some ingrates just won’t appreciate it.”

Sixon looked at Sophie with an approving nod. Finally, here was the younger sister playing her role to perfection.

Limone’s eyes glinted as she offered a faint, mocking smile. “Oh yes, Sixon rushed to school right away. And what did he do then? Told the teacher I absolutely had cheated and forced me to write a confession. Then made me apologize publicly in front of the entire school. That kind of ‘kindness’—would you like me to return it to you?”

Sophie fell silent, stunned.

Anger brightened Sixon’s face as he shot up defensively. “Limone, you’re the one who deliberately studied in secret and kept it from us, making me think you cheated. Fine, you’ve improved your grades, but is this all some kind of game to you?!”

The principal, who’d been watching from the sidelines, stepped in, addressing the homeroom teacher. “Who was it that first accused Limone of cheating? Bring them here to apologize.”

The homeroom teacher wasted no time, summoning two students known for stirring up trouble.

Still oblivious to how things had unfolded, the two strode in, smirking smugly. One of them piped up, “See, teacher? We told you she cheated to get those grades. Now it’s all been confirmed, hasn’t it?”

The teacher corrected them with a firm nod. “You were wrong. We’ve investigated, and it’s been proven Limone did not cheat. Now apologize to her.”

The smirks cracked into disbelief, their faces contorting as the truth hit them. Limone hadn’t cheated?

How could that be?

Sophie, sensing an opportunity to redeem herself, jumped in, her tone dripping with righteousness. “See? I told you not to speak recklessly. Now you owe her an apology.”

With just a single sentence, she neatly extricated herself from any culpability, making herself sound wise and innocent.

The two troublemakers mumbled their apologies toward Limone, their reluctance carved deep into their expressions. “We’re sorry. We shouldn’t have said that.”

The homeroom teacher turned to Limone. “Do you have any further requests?”

Limone shook her head lightly. “None.”

The teacher smiled with approval. “Limone has shown remarkable dedication lately. Sophie, on the other hand, your performance has significantly declined this time.”

A flush of embarrassment swept over Sophie’s face. The comparison burned—especially now, as Limone’s achievements cast her failures into sharper relief. To Sophie, it was nothing short of a humiliation.

Her voice trembled under the weight of her wounded pride. “I—I was distracted, that’s all. It won’t happen again.”

Sixon chimed in dismissively. “What’s the point of good grades, anyway? Gamers can make a fortune—blow up big, make a name for themselves, and earn far more than any academic success could ever offer.”

Sophie nodded subtly in agreement, her faith in that logic doubled.

The homeroom teacher’s expression twisted with exasperation. He had clearly not anticipated such a response from a parent figure. “You should encourage Sophie to learn from Limone instead.”

Sophie bit her lip hard, her frustration swallowing her words. Finally, she turned and fled the office, tears brimming in her eyes.

Sixon cast a withering glance at Limone. “So you get good grades for once, and you think that’s some kind of license to show off? Sophie’s busy with her esports team—that’s the only reason her grades slipped. Meanwhile, you’ve got nothing else going for you. What qualifies you to flaunt anything?”

Limone raised her eyes, cool and steady. “Did I flaunt anything?”

The principal cleared his throat, his tone decisive. “I distinctly recall hearing those remarks from the teacher, not Limone. And as a guardian, you might want to reconsider your biased attitude.”

For a moment, Sixon looked flustered, silenced by the principal’s subtle rebuke. All he could manage was a weak, “I’m not biased; Limone’s just... always been like this.”

With that, he stalked out of the room, likely heading after Sophie.

Limone turned to the principal. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need for thanks. Your achievements are your own doing—you earned them. Go on back to class. I’ll need to convene with the faculty and emphasize some things.”

Limone left the office without another word.

As she made her way down the hallway, a figure caught her attention—Charles, standing casually against the corridor wall in his white coat. He seemed to be waiting for someone.

Their eyes met, and to her surprise, her heart skipped, picking up its pace as though at his command.

Charles straightened, his voice low and composed, threaded with cool indifference. “How did it go?”

“Of course I won!” Limone said, her own tone triumphant. “The principal had me redo a test on the spot, and I scored even better than I did on the monthly exam!”

Limone lifted her chin, a flicker of pride glinting in her eyes.

Only now, standing before Charles, did the triumph she’d felt earlier find its true anchor.

Charles glanced at her, his gaze soft but measured, his voice calm and unhurried. "Did they apologize?"

For a moment, Limone froze. Sophie and Sixon—did he mean them?

She shook her head. "Only the scapegoat apologized. The ones pulling the strings didn’t, but I don’t care. I just humiliated them—hard."

Her smile widened with uncontainable glee. Achieving that act of defiance still brought her immense joy.

A subtle curve softened Charles’s refined features. "Come see me after class," he said, his tone gentle yet firm.

With that, he turned and walked away.

Limone noticed movement in the corridor and didn’t probe further. Instead, she pivoted and returned to the classroom.

The once-lively hum of voices in the room had dropped several notches, replaced by the weighty shuffle of uneasy quiet. Moments later, the class teacher entered, projecting authority as he announced that Limone’s results were, indeed, legitimate—there had been no question of cheating.

A palpable silence spread throughout the room.

At her desk, Sophie had her head buried low. Her sullen expression was a stark contrast to the sugary frosting of the cake now sitting ignored beside her. Her shoulders were tense, radiating frustration. No matter what, she had to find a way to keep Limone from rising. Limone, of all people, couldn’t possibly surpass her—could she?

*****

When school let out that afternoon, Limone headed straight to the infirmary.

Charles was seated casually in a chair, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he glanced back at her. "Finished your homework?"

"The teacher wanted us to double-check our mistakes," she replied. "I’ve already gone over all of mine."

Her errors had been few—minor gaps in preparation and a handful of concepts she hadn’t fully grasped yet.

Charles nodded toward the computer at his side. "Log in. Got a game account?"

"I do, but I think I’ll make a new one," she replied, her tone light with anticipation.

"Perfect. We’ll stick to new accounts."

Clearly, Charles had no intention of using a high-level character to carry her through. That wasn’t his style.

On the login screen, Limone typed in a name she’d chosen on a whim: Sweet Lemon. The name flashed across the monitor as she entered the game world, her avatar materializing in its digital form.

She turned to him, her expression curious. "What’s your in-game name? Let’s add each other as friends."

Her eyes flitted toward his monitor. His character name stirred something deep in her memory: If I Could Turn Back Time.

The familiarity hit her like a jolt of static. That name—it was identical to one etched in her past.

Her mind raced back to a life she’d almost forgotten. She had once known someone online, had shared a strange and fleeting connection with them through that same nickname. Could it possibly be…?

Charles raised an eyebrow, his voice slicing through her thoughts. "What are you staring at? Accept the friend request already."

Flustered, Limone hastily clicked "accept," her cheeks struggling to mask their sudden heat. Gazing at his game avatar seemed to stoke a quiet thrill inside her, even as confusion muddled her feelings.

But the timelines didn’t add up. That person from her past life—they hadn’t entered the picture this early. Could this really just be a coincidence?

Pressing her lips together, she ventured, "Why’d you pick that name?"

Charles’s fingers paused on the keyboard. He tilted his head slightly, eyes half-lowered. "No reason. It just came to mind."

She nodded, forcing the spark of curiosity back into its box. A coincidence, that’s all it was. It had to be.

Together, they ventured into the game’s novice area, running quests side by side. As the hours slipped by, something became increasingly clear: Charles was no greenhorn pretending to stumble through. His movements were deliberate, practiced. He had tailored this new account just for her, knowing it would put them on even footing—but she didn’t press the matter.

Still, his style... it tugged on her memory in ways she couldn’t ignore.

"So," she began, testing the waters, "does your main account use the same name?"

"No," he said matter-of-factly.

"Is this your first time using that name on a new account?" she pressed further.

Charles glanced up from the screen, catching her eyes for a split second. "It is. Why?"

She averted her gaze quickly, her hands fumbling nervously at the keyboard. "Oh, it’s nothing."

Her heart stammered in her chest, tangled in the past. Was he really... the same person? Or was her mind weaving connections where none existed? It didn’t make sense; their paths weren’t supposed to cross this early in her story. In her previous life, she’d only met him during the Resurrection Tournament—a critical turning point that came much later. He had been her anonymous guide, coaching her on strategies that carried her to the finals. She had never seen his face, even in her final, bleak moments. And yet, she had never forgotten the thread of kindness he had extended, lifting her from the ashes of her lowest days.

Now, sitting beside Charles, she couldn’t shake the feeling that time itself had folded in on itself, warping past and present.

Distracted, her usual focus faltered. She lagged behind; her performance dipped in places it shouldn’t have.

Eventually, they worked through their quests in the novice zone. Arriving in the next area, they stumbled upon another team grinding in close proximity. One look at their usernames, and Limone’s lips curled into a mocking smirk.

It was Sophie and Sixon.

Charles’s gaze sharpened like a needle, the warmth in his tone replaced by cool calculation. "Want to go after them?"

"What do you mean? We’re running low-level accounts here. They outclass us in gear—charging in would be suicide."

Her words protested, but if she were honest, the thought had struck a chord of temptation.

Charles smiled faintly. "Then we wait. Let them grind the boss down, bleed themselves out. The moment they’re weak—"

"We take their kill," Limone finished, the corners of her mouth tugging upward in a mix of daring and mischief. What better way to prove herself than robbing Sophie blind?