Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Same Bed, Different Dreams
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'Seriously... you wanna try me...?'
Rizli de Gracia ground her teeth inwardly, a jagged fury simmering as she glared at Ras, who was seated just one desk away from her.
The 'rebellion' Ras had shown on Saturday didn't seem to be a one-off event limited to that day, unfortunately.
Everything—from his nonchalant, arrogant swagger to the way he completely ignored her icy demeanor—rubbed her the wrong way.
Grinning as he greeted Emma, flirting lightly with the girls while taking the lead in the conversation...
All of it was stuff she'd subtly trained him to avoid over the years, deeming it 'improper' for a man in his position.
Rizli wondered if Ras's new attitude was some sloppy, transparent ploy to provoke her jealousy.
After all, the sluggish dance and cocky vibe he'd shown at the Saturday gathering square were clearly aimed at attracting the eyes of other girls.
But when he brought up the 'engagement' afterward in the classroom, she was convinced he harbored some real, deep-seated grudge against her.
He'd blamed the missed plans on his sister, but she knew the Saturday promise had fallen through—and there was no engagement ceremony or anything like that to begin with.
He was just casually bringing up a topic she'd always tabooed, hinting at his major dissatisfaction with their relationship.
She'd mulled over why this 'rebellion' had flared up so suddenly after their Saturday plans fell apart.
Rizli saw Ras as decent enough on average, but revealing their engagement to the public was nothing short of embarrassing for her.
She'd viewed him merely as a fitting, wealthy accessory, but now that the accessory was jabbing at her face, she couldn't just ignore it anymore.
In the end, like it or not (and she really hated the idea), her fated path was to sweet-talk and tame Ras back into being an obedient husband.
Of course, she had a secret affair partner besides her fiancé, but that was purely temporary and couldn't mean more than a dangerous fling.
The status gap between her and her lover was immense, and he already had a high-born fiancée set for him.
If their affair ever got exposed?
For starters, not just Rizli but the entire Gracia family—as decent as it was—could be ground to absolute dust.
Her lover's fiancée was of a nobility high enough to make that destruction possible, and he had no reason to protect his plaything, Rizli.
'Ugh... this is exhausting... so damn tiring...'
Of course, Rizli's affair wasn't born solely from status envy or a desire for power.
To her, her lover was objectively hot, even when his status was set aside.
Even stripping away his overwhelmingly noble rank, he was a man whose core appeal differed utterly from a naive, simple fool like Ras...
Sensing a gaze, she glanced over to find her fling partner and his fiancée seated side by side in the lecture hall.
They showed no intimacy beyond their physical distance, not even engaging in a simple conversation.
In contrast, he never had that awkwardness or remoteness when he was with her.
She was satisfied by that fact, yet it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
If only that seat were mine, if it could be mine even now...
But that was a futile wish, a dream unlikely to ever come true in this world.
Wink.
As their eyes met across the room, her lover shot her a playful, daring wink.
Rizli returned it with a faint, cautious smile, mindful of any prying eyes that might be watching.
'Sigh... even so, isn't this too blatant...? Aren't you enjoying the thrill of the risk a bit too much?'
It was then, as she tried to steady her startled gaze and calm her racing heart.
"R-Ras... here's the bread and milk... but they were out of chocolate bread, so I got mint chocolate flavor instead..."
A haggard, country-bumpkin girl came panting up to Ras's desk.
She clutched a bag of cheap bread and milk that even the noble kids wouldn't touch if it were handed to them for free.
Tall for a girl, with a tacky ponytail tied too tight, sallow skin from sheer exhaustion, and oddly large breasts that didn't fit her frame.
Irha Livingston.
An orphan background, subtly looked down on by everyone, drifting as a lonely outsider who didn't fit into any social group.
Always pale and sickly-faced, vanishing in a frantic hurry immediately after classes ended.
Rumors swirled around her: she was from the orphanage village, probably had some nasty disease; her bad complexion meant she was busy with 'that kind' of dark work...
To Rizli, the top queenka across all classes and even the entire year, Irha was a total pushover who couldn't even speak up properly and always watched her step.
And Ras had sent this pushover on a common bread errand?
That was the kind of low-class hazing plebeian boys did among themselves after establishing a crude pecking order.
Anyone with even a toehold in noble society, like Ras aspired to have, wouldn't stoop to such vulgarity in public.
Besides, Irha wasn't even a suitable target for bullying displays meant to flaunt one's status.
Absurd as it was, Rizli stared at Ras, speechless in utter disbelief at his behavior...
"Damn it! Who eats this crap!!! Eat it yourself!!!"
He suddenly yelled and shoved the whole bag—bread, milk, and all—violently back at Irha.
To any outsider, it looked like a standard temper tantrum from a foul-mouthed, unrefined jerk...
But Rizli, deep in her fiery affair, twisted the meaning further. (Plus, unaware of the existence of mint chocolate bread, she missed that Ras was genuinely pissed at the flavor.)
'Right in front of me... is he flirting with another girl now? Or... is he taking care of her? That orphanage girl?'
To her, the idea was both baffling and laughable.
In her eyes, Irha was a penniless beggar who'd melt into a submissive grin at the mere sight of a scrap of money or food.
'But why her of all people? Ah... is it that? Because he can do whatever he wants with her? Sweet-talk her with cash for a go?'
Flashback to Ras lately: eyeing her warily, whining that they barely touched despite being 'lovers.'
Suddenly, the puzzle pieces clicked in her head—explaining his recent bizarre antics perfectly.
'Right... I forgot you're a guy too, acting all childish and frustrated. Well, guys that age are all similar when they're deprived.'
Even her noble fling was bold and demanding when it came to physical intimacy.
Rizli couldn't refuse such touches—and in truth, she never really wanted to.
She was in her early twenties, full of youthful vigor and desire; it wasn't weird at all.
So Ras targeting Irha was, in her mind, just a performative protest against her own distance.
Otherwise, he wouldn't flaunt his interaction with such a girl so blatantly in front of her.
'Trying to spark my jealousy just to get a kiss or something? Sigh... I guess I should pretend to care a bit more to keep him in line.'
His clumsy, pathetic ploy actually amused her—for the first time, Ras seemed almost cute in his desperation.
Not in a good way, though. More like a pet performing a trick for a treat.
"Waaah... bread... milk too... nom nom..."
Watching Irha devour the bread amid a weird, pungent minty smell, Rizli's irritation began to boil again.
An entertaining scene unfolded before my eyes.
A classic plebeian pastime—bread errands—playing out in the middle of a prestigious classroom.
The frantic plebeian raging with unnecessary heat, the filthy lowborn girl scrambling in response.
It was like watching clowns in a cheap farce; intriguing and fun in its own base way.
Even cheap plays offered a certain fresh amusement when the actors were this committed.
Squawk!
Look at that plebeian glaring, hurling trash-like, cheap bread and milk at the lowborn orphan.
To me, it screamed that he was treating her like nothing more than a convenient garbage bin for his anger.
'Ras Etgard... a plebeian who knows how to have fun, surprisingly. Or is he just venting his stress from that on the lowborn?'
Exalted as I am, I happen to know plenty about that insignificant plebeian.
The lover of Rizli de Gracia, the very fling I'm currently cultivating just so I can eventually break her.
What exactly went down between them recently?
Etgard—I've heard of the merchant group, but they are mere small fry in the grand scheme.
Yet Rizli, the daughter of a reputable noble house, is dating a merchant's son just because he has cash?
It was hard to buy, sounding more like one of those nonsensical street ghost stories.
Or was it that 'love' from those pathetic fairy tales?
Unlike the suffocating, duty-bound sham I have to endure with the woman seated beside me...
Clearly, Ras—who was always wagging his tail like an excited pup—truly loved Rizli.
But did Rizli actually love Ras back?
I was curious about the answer, so I approached her to find out for myself.
Her appearance, her grace, her talent—all of it was fine, save for her slightly lacking status.
But those weren't the reasons I approached her in the first place.
She wasn't mine originally.
She was someone else's lover.
She belonged to Ras Etgard, the man who wagged his tail so earnestly in love.
That's exactly why I wanted to break her, to steal her away from him.
She'd brushed me off at first with various excuses, but plebeian love wasn't ever that deep.
A little bit of seduction, some expert coaxing, and she stopped resisting my advances entirely.
With her body and her heart already halfway mine, drowning that lovesick fool in total despair would be the perfect end to the game.
To show Ras the reality of me claiming her, I sent a messenger last Saturday—without naming myself, just a tip that Rizli was enjoying a tryst.
The messenger I chose: his own dorm roommate.
Awestruck by my command, the boy had obeyed me eagerly.
But surprisingly, Ras didn't show up at the moonflower garden that night to witness it.
I asked the messenger what happened: apparently, Ras teared up, insisted Rizli wouldn't do such a thing, and bolted in the opposite direction.
A bit of a shame, but amusing in its own pathetic way.
That pathetic plebeian was denying cold reality even though he clearly knew the truth in his heart.
So now... it was time to poke the other side of the equation.
Instead of prodding the denial-filled kid, I would prod the tightrope-walking woman.
How would Rizli act knowing that Ras might actually know about her affair?
I was excited to hear her excuses as she tried to cover up her denial.
Would she beg for my forgiveness pathetically? Or would she dump the plebeian casually to save herself?
Either way, the result would be delightful.
Ras, that ridiculous guy, knows his woman is cheating yet... haa...
'He's whining to his lover now. Tit for tat since she cheated—is he gonna try to side-chick some girl? Hmm... but that lowborn? He might need me to lend him a decent one myself.'
He was trying to provoke jealousy with a girl, but he had absolutely zero taste in his selection.
I was seriously considering introducing a temporary affair for him just to keep things interesting.
Someone pretty enough to actually spark jealousy, with decent status and a wholesome vibe.
My first thought was my own sister.
But considering her foul temper—she'd likely draw a sword on me the moment she heard the suggestion.
No... and I certainly can't offer my own fiancée either.
I have no love for her, but what is 'mine' is never to be loaned out, not even briefly.
I must grip all things tightly, allowing no leaks, and possess them utterly.
Even a loveless, stuffy fiancée like the one I have.
For I am Leontidas Valdebron da Sephiros, the crown prince of the world's greatest empire.
Anyway, that faggot keeps staring at me like he's lost his damn mind.
I can detect glances like I have eyes in the back of my head—one of the many perks of my long experience.
The regression reset my physical body to what it was then, but the skills etched in my flesh and soul don't just vanish into thin air.
So those overt, drooling stares of his spell nothing but big trouble in my book, dude.
Might actually piss me off enough to smash him into the ground later.
Leontidas Whatever-da-Sephiros—that long-ass name is a pain—tops my hit list as the world's biggest retard.
A twisted psycho with massive power; a high-risk tier-1 villain if there ever was one.
In the past life, as in the present—on April 7th, he ordered my roommate to act as his messenger.
The report I got back then was a tip that Rizli was cheating with some mysterious guy.
The past me—10 years ago—bolted blindly toward the garden based on that vague 'heard it' gossip.
I should've doubted it, but the idiot me back then lost his cool completely...
Tragically, the adultery flowers were indeed blooming in that nameless garden; witnessing it crushed my very spirit.
Thinking back, I was such a naive goody-two-shoes, hating fights, yet I actually charged the prince that night.
Spouting words I wasn't even familiar with: cheating, betrayal, affair...
What kind of filthy shit were they doing when they both had engagements set?
I told them I'd expose it all publicly to the world!
But I had no real guts back then.
Rizli begged pitifully in front of me, while scheming behind my back; I softened like a moron...
I dawdled, got trapped, my body failed me first, and then I was swiftly ruined.
Expelled from the academy, I tried to spit the truth when it was too late—it was useless, I was already doomed.
I was nearly executed for the crime of 'imperial insult.'
Anyway, he's trying the same ploy this time around.
But now I feel nothing but pure disgust for Rizli; even seeing the act live wouldn't faze me anymore.
It's just an ugly scene I didn't want to waste my eyes on—so I skipped it.
I faked some tears and bolted away from my scheming roommate to keep appearances.
The Prince probably thought, 'How lame, he didn't show up again.'
But an obsessive fucker like him will only escalate: 'Yeah, I stole your girl, what are you gonna do?'
Should I play along indifferently? Or just ignore him entirely?
Neither is foolproof.
If things don't go as he planned, he just unleashes psycho Plans B, C, and D...
Once he targets someone, he won't stop until they are utterly broken.
To him, I'm just a merchant brat toy.
If it were a duke or marquess's daughter, he'd torment them lightly and be done with it.
But for me? He goes full throttle.
My past ruin was largely due to the "toy acting cocky" in his eyes.
This time... his personality tells me he'll target Rizli once he sees I'm not reacting.
He'll say in that deep voice: 'Ras sniffed out your cheating. Now what are you going to do?'
He wants to cackle at her meltdown.
Fuck. It's useless and annoying either way I handle it.
The Prince complicates things with a mindset of 'You cheated with my fiancée? Then you die.'
If the bullshit overflows, then killing him is the only option left.
I don't have the option to placate him or despair on cue like he wants.
Plus, everyone is going to die in 10 years anyway—there's no point in overthinking the aftermath.
Worst case scenario, I just die a bit early...
He wasn't just my solo tormenter; he was an AoE sword-dance villain.
He tortured me, but his blade swung wide enough to sever the neck of the entire Etgard house.
A dynamic faction fate season is incoming.
A succession war is brewing; Etgard gets caught in the middle and powdered first.
Blocking his path? That’s a headache I'm already feeling.
"Nom... nom... munch munch..."
I sighed, looking at Irha stuffing her face with that mint-scented bread.
She had no malice when she poisoned me to cripple me in the past—so there's no harm if I just nudge her in a different direction this time.
I hold no grudge against her.
Thus, you're going to be my lackey even after class is over, girl.
Irha finished her meal, humming a satisfied tune; right then, the homeroom professor glided in.
The Year 1 Basic Magic professor: Tiriya, right?
"Hm...? Is someone eating toothpaste in class? Why does it smell like this...?"
I shot my hand up instantly.
"Professor. Irha Livingston ate mint chocolate bread in class. She's a bad girl."
"Eek...!"
She clearly didn't expect the snitching; she flailed her arms in shock.
That's my revenge for the chocolate bread, bitch.
"Irha, no weird foods in here. Anyway, we have a team evaluation next week—the teams are already set."
Tiriya waved her short wand; paper balls equal to the number of students popped into existence.
The team sheets were packed with various pairings.
"I've balanced them as best as possible; no swaps allowed. The test is post-Wednesday. Your preparation tightness is what counts."
I propped my chin on my hand and stared piercingly at the sheet.
The groups were irrelevant to me, as were the members—who cares how many there are.
Group 3.
Leader: Ras Etgard.
Members: Irha Livingston, XXX, OOO... etc. the rest are omitted.
To me, that's exactly how it read.
10 years ago, during this team evaluation: Irha poisoned me on cue, crippling me for good.
The one who gave the cue: Rizli de Gracia.
My ex-fiancée, who had just been busted for cheating.