CHAPTER 199: NOTEBOOK

An hour passed, the sunlight shifting across the room, dust motes swirling in the air.

Lor stepped back, lowering the chalk, wiping his hands on his trousers.

"That’s enough," he said, his voice tinged with tired warmth.

Olivia capped her pen and closed her notebook with a quiet snap, exhaling softly.

A faint smile tugged at her lips—barely there, but real, a rare crack in her armor.

"I actually understood this," she said, her voice quiet but triumphant. "Division’s... puzzling. But kind of fun."

Lor’s grin softened, his hazel eyes warm with genuine pride. "Good. Then you’re ready."

She slipped her notebook into her bag, her hazel eyes flashing with sharp determination.

"Now I’m confident I’ll score higher than those Class C bastards. No matter what tricks they pull."

The glow that wasn’t his own had faded fully, leaving only Lor—tired, human, satisfied.

"I’m glad I could help," he said, his voice steady, his thoughts briefly flickering to the pink spirit, the tournament, the web of desires and dangers he was weaving.

Silence hung between them, heavy with dust motes and the echo of their earlier intimacy. Olivia rose, slinging her bag over her shoulder, her movements deliberate, calm.

"Don’t tell Kiara about me," she said quietly, her back to him, her voice low but firm. "Please make an excuse."

Lor arched a brow, but nodded once. "Fine."

Her hand reached for the door handle, the hinge creaking as it began to open.

And there, framed in the doorway, was

Kiara.

Tall, commanding, her arms crossed under her chest, her toned body leaning against the frame.

Her blouse strained over her bust, her dark skirt cutting sharply across her thighs.

Her icy-blue eyes glowed faintly—not with witchlight, but with something fiercer, hotter, a possessive fire that burned through the air.

She wasn’t smiling.

She was glaring, her gaze locked on Olivia with a sharpness that could cut stone.

Olivia froze, shock shattering her composure for the first time. Her breath caught, a sharp gasp breaking the silence, and her notebook slipped from her hand, pages scattering across the floor with a soft rustle.

Her hazel eyes widened, her face paling as she stared at Kiara, caught in the weight of her glare.

Kiara’s eyes never wavered, her silence a blade, sharp and unyielding.

The air between them crackled, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Papers fanned across the scuffed wooden floor, stark white against the worn grain, catching the slanted sunlight in a scattered halo.

Olivia bent quickly, her light-brown bob swinging forward to hide her flushed face, her hands trembling as she gathered the pages.

When she stood, her expression was calm, her hazel eyes sharp and composed, but a faint tremor in her voice betrayed her.

"I was just... teaching Lor," she said smoothly, clutching the notebook tight against her chest, the fabric of her blouse pulling taut over her breasts. "He asked me to. Mathematics. That’s all."

Kiara didn’t move from the doorway, her tall frame filling the space like a storm cloud, her arms crossed under her bust, pushing her blouse tighter, accentuating the full curves beneath.

Her icy-blue eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a sharp, dangerous smile.

"Stop this bullshit," she said, her voice slicing through the air like a blade. "I know what you did with my boyfriend. I can smell it, you bitch."

Olivia’s breath caught, a sharp hitch that broke her mask.

Her hazel eyes flashed—fear, indignation—but she held her tongue, her fingers tightening on her notebook until the pages crinkled.

Lor stood, tension coiling over his shoulders like a drawn bow.

"Kiara—" His voice was steady, but his hazel eyes flickered with unease, caught between the two women.

Her gaze whipped to him, burning with a fire that made his breath falter.

But he stepped forward, planting himself between them, his posture firm, protective, like a knight shielding a charge.

"Enough," he said, his voice stronger than usual, carrying a weight that cut through his typical sly humor. "Don’t talk to her like that. She came here to learn. That’s all. If anyone’s to blame for what happened, it’s me. I asked."

The air tightened, the classroom’s dust motes frozen in the sunlight, the silence heavy with unspoken stakes.

Kiara’s glare softened, but only for Lor, her eyes lingering on him with a mix of affection and frustration.

"I know, Lor," she said, her voice gentler, almost tender. "You’re a good guy. Too good. You always want to help. Always give yourself away, even when you shouldn’t."

Her gaze shifted to Olivia, her smile thin and venomous. "That’s what makes me love him. That’s why I won’t let leeches circle him."

Lor’s jaw clenched, his hands curling at his sides. "Then if you understand that—leave Olivia alone."

"But, Lor." Kiara’s voice broke on his name, low and urgent, her eyes glinting with a fierce intensity.

"Don’t you see? They’re just using you. Every single one. Has Olivia ever thanked you for what you do?"

Lor’s lips parted, but no words came. Kiara didn’t wait, stepping closer, her presence commanding, her blouse straining as she leaned forward.

"You keep doing these rituals, giving them what they ask, over and over, without thinking of the cost. You get drained of mana every time—" her eyes flashed, the lie slipping out smooth as silk, "—and still you don’t show it. Still you smile and act fine. And girls like Olivia—" she jabbed a finger toward her, "—think you should be grateful just because they touch you."

Olivia flinched, her hazel eyes widening, her breathing nervous as her fingers tightened on her notebook. Lor shook his head, his voice firm.

"No. That’s not true. Don’t twist it. Olivia’s not like that."

His defense was swift, unyielding, and Olivia stared at him, her breath catching at the way he stood firm, shielding her from Kiara’s venom.

Something shifted in her chest—a pressure, a warmth she couldn’t name, but it was there, heavy and undeniable.

Kiara’s eyes narrowed, catching the change in Olivia’s expression.