Limone stopped in her tracks, her voice crisp and distant. "Sutton, Norton, Sixon."

If she didn’t acknowledge them, they’d accuse her of being impolite again, saying she was throwing a tantrum. But honestly, she had no energy to waste sparring with them over something so trivial.

Sixon arched a brow, his tone heavy with mockery. "How’d the exam go today? You gave up joining the team for this so-called 'studying.' Let’s see just how well you did."

His jabs barely grazed her. After all, her brothers had never thought much of her, no matter what she did.

She pressed her lips into a faint line. "I’ll do my best," she said quietly.

Her best to raise her grades. Her best to get into Summit University. Her best to escape them.

Norton scoffed. "Limone’s never been the academic type. High school’s almost over, and now she’s cramming last minute to make it seem like she’s trying. Do you really think it’ll change anything? Her ranking’s going to sit behind Sophie’s, same as always."

Sophie interjected with a syrupy smile. "Don’t say that, Norton. Limone’s been working hard recently—even the teachers have praised her. Besides, rankings don’t mean everything."

Limone gripped the strap of her backpack, a storm of anger swirling in her chest.

In her past life, her poor grades hadn’t been because she wasn’t capable. They’d been strategic.

Because whenever she outperformed Sophie, Sophie made her life hell—with endless schemes to stir up trouble, turning their brothers against her.

Not wanting to be hated by her own siblings, she made a deliberate choice: she filled in exam answers half-heartedly, always ensuring she scored below Sophie.

Her mediocre results didn’t mean she lacked ability.

In her last life, she’d thrown herself into the college entrance exams, determined to beat Sophie outright and prove her worth. And she had succeeded. Her scores had been enough to get into a much better school than Sophie’s.

But Easton had thwarted her. He forced her to apply to the same lower-tier school as Sophie, robbing her of her one chance to move beyond that stifling household.

As the memories crowded in, Limone swallowed her fury, holding herself carefully in check. "I’m going to my room," she said coolly, her eyes cold and distant.

This time, she wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

*****

The next morning, Limone woke naturally to the soft light of the weekend.

When she went downstairs for breakfast, the house was eerily quiet. Her brothers had likely gone off to the training camp. She hardly cared. After finishing her meal, she retreated to her room.

She glanced at her phone, scrolling through the latest updates on the gaming tournament. Just as she expected, the official announcement for the revival round had dropped—exactly as it had in her past life.

Back then, during revival, Sixon had fought like a man possessed, throwing himself into every match with ferocious determination. It had been his one chance to move forward, to face the Johnson family prodigy in the finals for a long-awaited rematch.

But in that previous life, Team Skylane hadn’t truly earned their championship title. They’d benefited from an unbelievable stroke of luck—the Johnson family scion had abruptly withdrawn in the final stretch. Rumors had swirled: some said it was due to illness; others speculated he’d been yanked home to take up family responsibilities. Whatever the truth, the player himself had never gone on record to clarify.

Limone stared at the game updates, her fingers twitching with an urge to play. But somewhere in her mind, Charles’s voice echoed, stopping her short.

They’d made an agreement—no games until after the performance results from her upcoming exams. Fine. She’d wait.

Pulling out her phone, she deliberated a moment before sending him a message: Master, I didn’t make it to the infirmary after school last week because Sutton noticed I wasn’t home on time. I was worried he’d discover my secret base, so I had to avoid going.

When the message sent, she stared at the blank chat screen, waiting for a reply back... but none came.

Unable to help herself, she checked Charles’s social feed. Nothing. Not a single post. Just an empty void.

What kind of person doesn’t use social media at all? Weird.

Meanwhile, across town, Charles glanced at his phone, narrowing his eyes slightly at the incoming text.

"Who messaged you?" Felix’s voice broke the silence.

Without a word, Charles locked his screen.

Felix leaned in with a smirk. "Judging by that profile picture, it’s a girl. Let me guess—it’s that girl you helped the other day. What was her name? Lemon?"

"You talk too much," Charles said, his voice edged with irritation.

"Sure, sure," Felix teased. "But your guilty conscience is showing, Charles. Ever since you started pulling those extra shifts in the infirmary, something’s been different. And then last week, you just stopped—don’t tell me you two had a falling out?"

Charles turned his head slowly, his gaze sharp. "Mind your own business."

Felix only laughed. "Oh, please. I’ve known you since we were in diapers. You think I don’t see right through you?"

Charles ignored him, retreating to the balcony with his phone.

Scrolling through the chat again, he absently toyed with her words: secret base. Was that really how she saw the infirmary?

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Impulsively, he opened her social feed and skimmed through her posts: photos of sunsets, doodles in notebooks, random musings. All of it felt so... young, almost unbearably so.

He stared for a moment too long, the feeling unfamiliar, unsettling. With a sharp exhale, he exited the app and pocketed his phone before making his way back to the living room.

On the other side of that connection, Limone waited and waited, but no reply from him came. Was he mad at her? She considered sending another message to explain herself but hesitated, deciding to wait until after her exam results were out.

The weekend passed quietly. Limone kept her head down, absorbed in her studies. Sophie and the brothers didn’t return at all, likely staying over at the training camp.

*****

Monday morning finally came, ushering in the day of reckoning.

Limone descended the stairs and spotted Sophie sitting with their brothers. They were deep in conversation, their laughter an easy, natural rhythm that spoke of unshakable camaraderie.

Limone offered no greeting, heading straight to the dining area for breakfast.

"Today’s the day the scores come out, isn’t it?" Sixon called across the room, a sneer evident in his voice.

"It is," Limone said simply.

"I’ve already told you," he continued, "you should’ve joined the team. With your grades, there’s no way you’ll get into a good school. You’re wasting your time. If you’d started training earlier, you could’ve been well on your way to becoming a pro by now. But no, you gave that opportunity to Sophie."

Limone met his eyes without flinching. Her tone was steady. "I don’t mind."

Grabbing a plate of toast, she left the room without another word.

Behind her, Sixon bristled at her indifference, his hands clenched into fists. "Just wait. I’m going to enjoy watching her fail miserably," he muttered.

Sophie exhaled quietly, relieved. As long as Limone refused to join the team, her position remained secure. She knew her step-sister had raw talent for the game; if Limone chose to compete, her own place would be under threat. Still, she plastered on her sweetest smile.

"Sixon, don’t be so hard on her," she said. "If Limone changes her mind and wants to play, I’d give up my spot for her without hesitation."

Sixon’s face softened. "You’re always so considerate," he said approvingly.

But Sophie’s smile faltered for a split second—a crack in the mask only she could feel. Resentment simmered beneath her skin. She’d trained tirelessly for months, seeking Sixon’s approval, yet it always came back to Limone. Screw that. If she wanted recognition, she'd have to win it outright.

Even Sixon couldn’t mask his own anxiety. The revival round was critical. A loss meant the end of the road. Sophie’s determination might be admirable, but her raw ability didn’t measure up. Beating the Johnson family prodigy required skill—and Limone was the only one who had it.

But how could he swallow his pride and ask her to return to the fold? For years, their unspoken family dynamic had been set in stone: Limone, the outsider, forever seeking crumbs of approval. And Sixon had grown all too accustomed to her quiet compliance.

Now, though, she dared to defy him.

How far was she planning to take this?