A sleek, jet-black luxury car with a distinctly modern silhouette came to a smooth halt not far from the grand gate of Hazandeen International High School.
The tinted window descended gradually, revealing the delicate face of a young woman dressed in modest, semi-concealing attire—as if deliberately hiding her presence.
Her eyes were sharp, cold even, yet her lips curved into a soft and refined smile—a mesmerizing contrast of elegance and authority rarely found in someone of her age.
Yura Atenri.
She had arrived—with Devy in tow.
Her expression carried a trace of curiosity mixed with unease. As she leaned slightly forward, the school's front yard became clearly visible through the car's vantage point.
"Huh? Why are there so many police officers here?" she murmured softly, her tone uncertain.
Several large vehicles bearing the insignia of the national police were lined up neatly in the school's parking area.
