The cafeteria went dead silent.
All eyes turned as the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoed across the tile. One step. Then another. Then another.
It was Claire.
The future sadistic witch, known as much for her cruelty as her beauty, moved like she owned the room. She crossed her arms, her long crimson hair swaying behind her like a trail of fire. She didn't glance at anyone. She didn't need to. Her presence alone demanded submission.
Isaac didn't turn around—he didn't need to. He had sensed her long before she entered, watching from behind the door like a predator waiting for a reason.
He sighed. Just what I needed.
He would've preferred not to get involved with her. But for now… her presence was welcome.
Claire's boots tapped steadily as she approached, slicing through the thick tension in the air. She stopped—exactly two steps in front of Kaine. Her sharp eyes stared him down with calculated coldness, head slightly tilted, looking down on him like he was something beneath her boot. Kaine shifted on his feet. His fists were clenched, his jaw trembling, but he didn't dare meet her eyes. Not out of respect—out of pure hatred and fear.
"Kaine," she said, her voice smooth as ice, "when will you grow up and stop acting like a coward?"
Kaine's composure shattered. His face twisted, flushed with rage and shame. "Like you have any right to talk!" he barked, voice cracking. "You're nothing but a failed product, Claire. There's a reason they kicked you out of the family!"
His chest heaved. His eyes were glossy. That line… it cut too deep, and he knew it.
Claire stared at him, unmoved. She didn't flinch, didn't blink—just slowly raised her hand, fingers slightly curled, as if to slap him.
Kaine instinctively flinched.
But the blow never came.
Instead, Claire's lips curled into a cruel, knowing smirk. She turned her hand and gently brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Still afraid," she whispered.
Before the atmosphere could snap, a few more hurried footsteps echoed in the distance. Two teachers burst into the cafeteria, eyes wide and surveying the chaos.
Kaine's eyes lit up with false hope. He straightened and began marching toward them like a drowning man reaching for a rope.
Isaac, still sitting at his table, tilted his head slightly, watching. There was no anger in his eyes. Just pity.
Foolish kid.
One of the teachers raised his voice. "What's going on here?!"
Kaine saw his chance. "Sir, some lowlife tried to start a—"
But Claire's voice cut cleanly through his lie. "It's nothing, sir," she said sweetly. "Me and my brother were just testing our control over fire. A little sibling rivalry. Nothing serious."
The teacher narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. He turned to Kaine, who still had his mouth open mid-sentence.
"Well? Is that true, Kaine?"
Kaine froze. Just as he was about to speak, a sharp pressure stabbed into his mind—a telepathic message from Claire.
> I don't care what happens to you. But if Father hears you lost to someone who hasn't even awakened yet… well. You know how he handles disappointment.
The color drained from Kaine's face. His lips quivered as he looked from the teacher to Claire.
"Y–Yes, sir," he muttered, voice cracking. "It was just a friendly spar between me and… Claire."
The teachers exchanged glances, shrugged, and walked away without further word.
Isaac, still leaning over his table, couldn't take it anymore.
His shoulders trembled, head tilted down, hand pressed over his mouth. He was fighting—fighting for his life—trying to hold back the laughter boiling inside him.
And he was losing.