The three girls surrounding Xanthia clearly thought she was joking—or perhaps intentionally making exaggerated remarks to entertain everyone with a bit of contrast and humor.

  After all, Xanthia naturally possessed the charm of a "Social Expert." People who excel at socializing, like her, often say bold things without worrying about the consequences, even if they can't always follow through. Embarrassment? That was rarely an issue for her.

  Generally, "Social Expert" individuals are well-liked. They don't mind looking a little foolish if it lightens the mood and brings joy to those around them.

  This was in stark contrast to her tablemate, Elena La Loannou, who always maintained an aura of divinity. Elena worked hard to project an an image, carefully avoiding any blunders that might tarnish her reputation.

  Xanthia, on the other hand, was refreshingly down-to-earth and retable. She carried no such burdens. Ironically, many of the "images" associated with her were not of her own making but rather projections imposed by others.

  For example, the school forums often painted her with ughably dramatic bels like "poor but diligent top student" or "most hardworking school flower in Year One." In the cssroom, her innocent appearance, slender figure, pale complexion, and delicate demeanor led to assumptions that she was a "fragile beauty," the kind of girl who seemed destined to star in a romance novel.

  But Xanthia had her own dreams.

  Lhoraine was the first to recover from the ughter. Teasingly, she said, "Xanthia, you're trying too hard to entertain us. It's just so sweet. I'm honestly moved to tears..."

  Luciel snapped out of it as well. She couldn't resist reaching out to touch Xanthia's soft, colgen-rich face, gently rubbing it as if enjoying the sensation.

  "Xanthia, Xanthia, listen to my advice," Luciel said, a pyful lilt in her voice. "Don't do things like this just to make everyone happy. You’re like a delicate porcein doll—a national treasure, even! You shouldn't subject yourself to any harm. Running 3,000 meters is practically a crime against humanity. You could lose half your life."

  Watching Luciel’s intimate gesture, Elena bit her lip, silently screaming to herself, I want to touch Xanthia’s face too!

  It was yet another moment of admiration for Luciel...

  There was no denying that Xanthia's complexion was exceptional—fair as snow and delicately smooth. And, frustratingly, she didn’t rely on any expensive skincare products. Her naturally cold-white skin seemed almost unfair.

  Elena prided herself on her own carefully maintained complexion, which she considered a vital part of her charm. Through rigorous skincare routines, she managed to preserve her fair appearance. After all, if an angel wasn’t fair, her allure would diminish significantly.

  When it came to true beauty, which Elena considered a form of “hard power,” she believed she was evenly matched with Luciel. But compared to Xanthia? She couldn’t help feeling she came up short.

  Some things, like skin tone or body proportions, were innate. Unless some magical intervention occurred, they were impossible to change.

  Hearing Luciel’s comment, Elena chimed in, "I think Xanthia doesn’t need to do anything drastic to make everyone happy. Just smiling or singing a song would brighten the mood naturally."

  "Yeah, yeah, Xanthia, let’s hear some music. Didn’t you say you’re good at the ukulele? Py something for us," Lhoraine suggested.

  "I’ll do it during the long break," Xanthia replied casually, her confidence as a social butterfly undiminished.

  "No, today’s long break is reserved for the fg-raising ceremony," Luciel reminded her.

  "So troublesome. Such a waste of time," Xanthia compined.

  Their natural interaction made Elena feel a pang of envy. She only dared to call Xanthia "Little Xanthia" in private. In front of Luciel and Lhoraine, she stuck to the formal "Xanthia." Elena was acutely aware that she wasn’t part of their tight-knit trio and worried that overstepping could spark unspoken tensions. After all, competition and envy were natural among girls, even friends.

  Since a significant familia incident, Elena had grown more sensitive than her peers.

  Luciel, the "big sister" of the group, got along effortlessly with most girls but had a slightly strained dynamic with Elena. Their differences meant they weren’t on the best terms.

  Elena didn’t mind Xanthia outperforming her academically, but losing to Luciel in the st monthly exam had stung. She was quietly determined to stage a comeback.

  Xanthia, on the other hand, was a treasure Luciel had "discovered" early on and now held in high regard. Lhoraine’s addition to their circle had been no threat; she brought fun gossip that Xanthia enjoyed. But if Elena showed any "improper interest" in Xanthia, Luciel would surely intervene.

  Friendships between girls were subtle, filled with nuances beyond simple camaraderie.

  Xanthia was a unique presence. Those who got to know her quickly realized she had no hidden agenda. She was straightforward and focused on one thing: having fun.

  This unyielding pursuit of joy was infectious. Being around Xanthia felt light and carefree. It was no surprise everyone wanted to be her friend, even if just to share drinks or ughter.

  "Wait, how did we even start talking about music?" Xanthia suddenly excimed, noticing the conversation had shifted. "Don’t underestimate me!"

  She realized that the beautiful girls around her didn’t take her cims seriously. It was clear they had formed a stereotype about her, and she was determined to shatter it.

  Straightening up, Xanthia said earnestly, "Actually, I have great physical fitness. I used to get sick often, and I hated that feeling. So, I decided to change myself. I run every day now, and my health has improved a lot. When I say I’m good at long-distance running, I mean it!"

  She was rambling again, recounting her "daily running routine." In truth, such monotonous exercises didn’t make her happy, so she rarely bothered with them. Her physical endurance relied entirely on a system enhancement.

  Yet, her sincere tone and innocent expression made her words seem entirely believable. For a moment, the girls around her imagined Xanthia running tirelessly to and from school.

  Luciel thought for a moment and suggested, "How about you run a 3,000-meter race during PE next time to prove yourself?"

  Xanthia quickly waved her hands. "No, no! My goal is to win the 3,000 meters at the school sports day. I can’t reveal my strength prematurely—it would ruin the surprise!"

  In reality, her reluctance was because she only had one bottle of "potion" and wanted to save it for a critical moment.

  Lhoraine smiled knowingly, as though she saw through Xanthia’s "new clothes," but chose not to expose her.

  Elena lowered her head, covering her mouth while solving a math problem, inwardly scolding herself for believing Xanthia’s story. A sporty girl? Xanthia didn’t give off that vibe at all.

  Luciel, however, didn’t ugh. Instead, she said earnestly, "Xanthia, I believe in your abilities. But don’t overexert yourself. Your current condition seems good, so focus on maintaining it. Don’t push yourself just to entertain others."

  On the topic of Xanthia maintaining her physical health, Luciel and the other two were in complete agreement. They had long grown accustomed to Xanthia no longer taking sick leave. Her presence seemed to enliven the atmosphere wherever she went.

  It was Monday. After completing two morning csses, the mid-morning break, as usual, featured the weekly fg-raising ceremony.

  Under the direction of their css teacher, Emmanuel El Alcantara, the boys and girls formed two lines and marched neatly to the designated area, where they ter organized into squares.

  Most students bore expressions of disdain. The mid-morning break, which was supposed to be a 25-minute period for rexation, had been consumed by this routine ceremony, much to their frustration.

  The fg-raising ceremony was a standard tradition in campus life.

  This time, the student chosen to speak under the fg was Dionysius El Papadopoulos, the css monitor of Year 1, Css 1. Having excelled in the recent monthly exams and secured first pce in the entire grade, he was given the honor.

  Dionysius was tasked with delivering a speech on the theme of "self-directed learning."

  He had approached the task efficiently. Retrieving a script he had used back in junior high, he made a few minor edits, submitted it to the teacher for review, and naturally received high praise.

  As an exempry student, Dionysius excelled academically, maintained good retionships, demonstrated leadership skills, and came from a strong background. Teachers admired him as though he were the CEO of a prestigious company.

  One additional point could not be overlooked: he was handsome. His neatly cropped hairstyle, which left his forehead exposed, gave him a "sunny and handsome" appearance. Unsurprisingly, he was celebrated as the "campus crush"

  Before Dionysius delivered his speech, the students followed the usual protocol of singing the national anthem while gazing at the fg. Then, school leaders—be it the principal, vice principal, or director of discipline—would take turns giving speeches.

  Xanthia, however, felt no emotional connection to the fg-raising ceremony. In this parallel world, she found it alien to her ideological consciousness and therefore regarded it with detachment.

  When she learned Dionysius was the speaker, she couldn’t help but comment sarcastically, "Why is it this guy again? His speeches are always boring!"

  Could Xanthia truly not understand Dionysius? To her, he was an unremarkable younger brother who was excessively meticulous about rules. Naturally, he was favored by teachers and seniors, but when it came to situations that deviated from the rules, he would likely falter.

  Though Xanthia’s remark was made casually and in a low voice, several nearby girls overheard her. Unfortunately, her assigned position in the square was less than ideal.

  Had her friend "Gossip Queen" Lhoraine been present, Xanthia could have spent the entire ceremony chatting with her. However, without Lhoraine, the experience felt even duller.

  Nearby stood Hera La Andronikos. Upon hearing Xanthia's remark, Hera, who already held a grudge against her, was immediately incensed.

  Adopting a condescending tone, Hera snapped, "Who do you think you are to criticize Dionysius? Just because you share the same st name doesn’t mean you can judge him. He’s topped the grade twice in a row. Compared to someone like you, who only succeeds through luck, he’s far superior!"

  As Hera reprimanded Xanthia, she secretly hoped Dionysius would witness the scene. In her mind, she thought: Look, dear campus crush I defend you so passionately. Anyone who dares speak ill of you will face my wrath!

  Because Dionysius was the "campus heartthrob," he had many admirers. One of them, Hannah, who shared a dormitory with another girl named Elena and ranked 13th in the css, chimed in, "Xanthia, you’re wrong for saying that. I think you’re just jealous of Dionysius. Even if he stood there silently, we wouldn’t find him boring! Right, girls?"

  Hannah's eyes sparkled with admiration, and she considered herself fortunate to be in the same cohort as Dionysius.

  "Exactly! How could you call Dionysius boring when he’s so perfect? Apologize!"

  "Yeah, yeah! The speeches are always like this, but at least Dionysius is handsome. That alone is a win!"

  "If I could ever go on a date with Dionysius or invite him to dinner, I’d be over the moon!"

  Xanthia felt baffled. Had she accidentally stumbled into a hive of girls eager to idolize boys? She had simply teased her younger brother as any older sister might, but the reactions were overwhelming.

  Hera, emboldened by the support, became even more domineering. She began viewing Xanthia as an easy target and resolved to find an opportunity to strike harder. A mere verbal exchange was not enough to satisfy her.

  Yet Hera was also annoyed by the other girls who openly fawned over Dionysius. In her eyes, they had no right to fantasize about him. He was her ideal future husband!

  When Marian La Trimm, another girl who shared a dormitory with Elena, mentioned inviting Dionysius to dinner, Hera's irritation peaked. Turning her attention to Marian, Hera sneered, "You? A country bumpkin dreaming of inviting Dionysius to dinner? Do you even know how much it would cost? You’re truly ignorant! Forget dating—he’s far too busy and accomplished for someone like you!"

  With an air of superiority, Hera added, "Do you even know Dionysius’s birthday? Of course, you don’t. I do—it’s in November, next month. But I won’t tell you the exact date because I’ll be attending his birthday party. You can just wait for me to share the details on social media!"

  Hera’s triumphant decration silenced the other girls. In her mind, this solidified her status as Dionysius’s "only one." She felt validated and superior.

  However, her moment of smugness was abruptly interrupted when she let out a loud and unexpected fart. Not just one, but a series of farts, all while ughing arrogantly.

  The absurdity of the situation was undeniable. The sound resembled a celebratory salute, as if welcoming a grand event.

  The girls, initially stunned, burst into uncontrolble ughter. Hannah clutched her stomach, and Marian ughed so hard tears streamed down her face. Hera, unintentionally crowned the "fart king," became the source of their amusement.

  Though Hera wanted to appear shocked, she found herself unable to stop ughing. She ughed even louder than the others, unable to maintain any sembnce of composure.

  At that moment, Dionysius arrived with his script in hand, ready to speak under the fg. He noticed the group of girls ughing hysterically nearby and paused, puzzled. Had he unknowingly done something ridiculous?

  Then, his gaze fell upon Xanthia. She stood quietly, her expression serene, not participating in the chaos. She seemed completely unbothered.

  Seeing her calm demeanor, Dionysius rexed. If his sister wasn’t ughing, then everything was fine.

  In his heart, he thought: Indeed, my sister respects me the most. Next vacation, I really want to spend more time with her. I just hope she’ll agree.