"Strip?!"

The word burst out of Alex's mouth not as a question but as a raw eruption of fury, humiliation, and frustration that had finally hit its breaking point. Everything that had been crushing him since last night—his father's threat, the shame, Yukie's contemptuous stare—ignited into a blaze of blind rage.

"ADAM SOCHE—!"

He never got the chance to finish shouting my name. His body surged upward from his kneeling position, fist clenched, ready to smash my face in.

But I had already anticipated it. I had seen the storm gathering in his eyes from the start.

So before his momentum could build, before he could even stand, my leg shot out and struck his flushed, rage-twisted face.

Thud!

The crack of his nose cartilage echoed sharply across the silent grounds. My kick landed perfectly.

Alex was thrown backward as if hit by a sledgehammer. His body sailed through the air, crashed onto the ground, rolled several times, and finally came to a stop. His face was a wreck. Blood streamed from his very obviously broken nose. His eyes were shut, and he no longer moved.

The crowd that had been noisy moments ago fell dead silent, followed by gasps and whispers laced with horror. Their looks toward Alex shifted from disdain to something closer to pity—or rather, a squeamish disgust at how far he had fallen.

But the calm did not last long.

"Unbelievable."

The voice came from within the crowd. Maximus stepped forward, pushing aside the people in front of him. His face twisted in deep disgust—at Alex, but also at what he saw as undeserved arrogance.

He did not attack me immediately. He stopped a few steps ahead, his sharp eyes sweeping over me from head to toe with a look of disdain, as if he were staring at filth that had somehow crawled up to a higher seat.

"Look at that," Maximus said, his voice low and cutting.

He tilted his chin toward Alex's unconscious body. "I can't believe I was friends with a loser like that. Hah. Even a dog backed into a corner knows how to keep its dignity. But him? He chose to become a cute little puppet dancing for you."

Then he turned his cold gaze on me. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Adam. You wake up from your long slumber as a nobody and suddenly act tough? Don't think everyone here is scared of your mother's shadow."

He took a step closer.

"Look around you. They didn't gather here to watch you show off. They came to see a clown like Alex. But now…" Maximus gave a mocking grin, sharp and challenging.

"Looks like they get to see who you really are."

I stood still, staring back with a deliberately blank expression, meant only to bait him. Inside, I was laughing. Ah, Maximus. You and your twisted fixation on your sister—your turn will come soon enough.

That alone was enough to shatter what little patience Maximus had.

"All right, you piece of trash," he growled.

His body lunged forward with surprising speed for someone his size, energy focused in his right fist.

But someone else moved faster.

A flash of white streaked past, faster than most people could track. A sudden chill swept across the field, sharp enough to sink into bone. Ice formed around my feet, gripping my shoes and ankles in an instant.

Damn it, Yukie.

I tried to twist away, but the ice was too fast. Before I could break free, the blow had already arrived. A fist aimed straight at my sternum.

Crack!

I crossed my arms to block it. The impact felt like being hit by a train. The force shattered the ice around my legs and hurled me backward with brutal strength.

I flew through the air, crashing into several students standing too close before landing hard on the ground. Pain shot through my arms and back. If this had been the old me, that punch would have shattered bones and knocked me unconscious.

"People like you," the voice rang out, colder than any ice she could conjure.

Yukie stood where I had been moments before, one hand still raised, thin fingers trailing pale mist. Her face, flawless like carved frost, held no expression. But deep within her white eyes, disgust simmered.

"Trash like you should stay where you belong. Standing in front of me and acting bold… it irritates me beyond words."

I pushed myself up slowly, every muscle screaming. I looked at her. Hatred—raw, boiling, buried for years—surged through me.

And in her eyes, I saw the same reflection. She didn't hate me because of what I did to Alex. She hated me for existing. For breathing. For daring to stand up in front of her.

The students around me scattered in panic. No one wanted to be caught in Yukie Iceblood's wrath.

I turned and bolted into the crowd. I knew full well I didn't yet have the strength to defeat Yukie without using my cheat skill, and I had no intention of revealing it in public.

And of course, I had already predicted this would happen. Provoking Alex, crushing him, would definitely draw attention—especially Yukie's. I had prepared an escape route for exactly this scenario.

I pushed through the panicked crowd, hearing quick footsteps and the biting cold trailing behind me.

"Don't you dare run!" Yukie shouted.

That was when I summoned it.

[Faceless Mask]

The blank mask appeared in my hand, cold and weightless. In an instant, I pressed it to my face. I looked at a panicked male student beside me, and with a single intention, my face shifted—becoming identical to his.

Yukie leapt above the crowd, landing lightly a few meters away. Her sharp eyes scanned the area. She passed right over me—a random, frightened student lost among the others.

"Where did he go?!" she snapped, her irritation more obvious.

She glanced around, then sped off in another direction, leaving the area with a face colder than before.

I, wearing another boy's face, drew a slow breath behind the mask. Quietly, I slipped away from the center of the chaos, blending into the tide of students trying to leave.

But in my chest, my hatred for Yukie burned hotter than ever. Later, I promised myself as pain throbbed through my arms. Your time will come.

From her office overlooking the field, Ophelia had been watching the entire spectacle. She smiled faintly, then spoke to someone standing behind her.

"Call Adam to see me. I have something to discuss with him."

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