Isabelle turned her eyes down to the exam packet that now sat crisply atop her desk. Her fingers brushed the edge of the page—not with hesitation, but with a familiar calm. This was routine for her. Necessary. Unavoidable.
She flipped the front page open, and there it was.
Rank: 1st.
Percentile: 100%.
Deviation margin: ±0.6%.
Her gaze didn't waver. No breath caught in her throat. No pride bloomed in her chest. Just a simple, silent confirmation of what had to be. Of what could not be allowed to slip.
Because for someone like her, this wasn't ego. It was survival.
The scholarship that allowed her to study in Vermillion Academy—the one that placed her here among the children of noble families and tycoons—had clear terms: Maintain the top position. No exceptions. No appeals.
One step down, and she was out.
So when her name rested alone at the peak of the list again, she didn't smile. She didn't exhale.
She just tucked it away like a ledger balanced, and turned the page.
