Another fan of Anya, clutching a notebook to her chest, timidly stepped forward. Her cheeks burned red as she stammered.
"M-Miss Anya...could I please...have your autograph?"
Anya's smile softened. She reached out, brushing her fingers over the cover of the notebook, but instead of signing, she gently pushed it back toward the girl.
"Later." She said warmly. "I promise I'll sign it after I finish here...And you know me, I never break a promise to my dear juniors."
There was such confidence in her tone, such unshakable sincerity in her eyes, that the student instantly believed her. With a quick nod and a relieved smile, the girl stepped back into the crowd, hugging her notebook close as though it had already been blessed.
But then, Anya's attention shifted. Her eyes swept the room with calm precision until they landed on the bloodied sea of students sprawled across the floor, groaning and twitching with broken knees.
And beyond them, Charlotte.
