He actually showed up?
For a moment, Hysteria didn't know what kind of expression she was supposed to wear in front of Linen.
Just a minute ago, she'd been hoping—wishing—that he would come and save her. Yet now that he was really here, she found herself caught off guard, unsure of how to react.
Also... wasn't what he said just now a little strange?
"The only one who has the right to be rejected by you... is me"?
Wait—is he hoping I'll reject Farao?
Meanwhile, Linen let out a quiet breath of relief.
Good. I made it in time. She didn't accept that blonde idiot's invitation.
Still, in his rush, it seemed he'd accidentally blurted out what was really on his mind.
Hopefully, with all the tension just now, no one actually caught it.
"The matter of study groups isn't so casual," Linen said, trying to steer the conversation in a new direction, albeit somewhat awkwardly. "Even if someone wants to quit, shouldn't we at least discuss it first?"
"Hmph. Whether I quit or not is my decision. And even if I stay, it's just to be with Elena—not because of you," Hysteria shot back coolly.
Neither of them looked at the other as they both turned away, seemingly in perfect sync.
Their back-and-forth, however, left Farao—who had just been brimming with antagonist energy—suddenly feeling completely sidelined.
Damn it! Am I just some generic villain from a power fantasy novel?!
Why was it that the moment that guy showed up, the entire tone shifted—as if he were the real threat, while Farao was just some clown dancing in his shadow?
No. No way. I won't let it go like this!
"Hey! Linen Norton! You just said it yourself, right? If Princess Hysteria can freely choose whether or not to stay in your group, then that means our group still has a shot, doesn't it? Fair competition, right?"
Linen finally turned his head, frowning in confusion.
"And... who are you again?"
Farao scoffed and prepared to introduce himself once more:
"I am the son of the Northern Duke of—"
"No, no, no—you misunderstood me."
Linen narrowed his eyes slightly, his voice lazy and unimpressed.
"What I meant was—who the hell are you to talk to me like that?"
His gaze swept over the trio with a casual but undeniable pressure. The confidence in his voice made all three of them stiffen. Their previous arrogance, which had flared so freely against Hysteria, instantly shrank back.
After all, even in the "original novel," the transmigrated Linen Norton—the Third Prince of Zijinghua—was the kind of top-tier antagonist who only the main cast could even think about challenging.
And Farao? At most, he was a footnote. A disposable mid-boss used to show how powerful someone else was.
A side villain might throw weight around with the protagonist, but the moment a real final boss stepped onto the scene—what else could they do but kneel?
This was bloodline suppression.
This was the confidence of being a born antagonist.
Even Farao seemed to realize that this man wasn't someone he could easily mess with. So, in desperation, he turned back to the one he thought might be his lifeline—Hysteria, who had just shown a flash of vulnerability.
"Your Highness Princess Hysteria," he pressed, "you'd really rather stay in a group with such a crude person, and be dragged down for four years, than join our team?"
But he had clearly forgotten that Hysteria was more than capable of going toe-to-toe with Linen in verbal combat.
That earlier moment of panic had only come from being caught off guard by the anti-magic barrier. Since Linen's arrival, whatever lingering fear she had vanished without a trace.
So, hearing Farao's third—or was it fourth—attempt, she simply responded with an icy expression and a voice as cold and flat as a glacier:
"Who I choose to team up with is none of your damn business. Also, your voice is disgusting. Can you stop saying my name like we're close or something?"
Oof.
Both Farao and Linen flinched.
Farao, because that line broke through every last shred of his ego.
Linen… because he was jealous.
So sharp. So cold. That stare—like she's looking at trash... If only she were rejecting me like that! I could've earned an S-tier rejection rating. That alone might've pushed my Arcane level up a whole realm!
I've spent all this time trying to earn rejection, and this idiot gets it handed to him?
Could he actually be… a genius?!
A terrifying thought suddenly struck Linen.
He leaned in, lowered his voice, and whispered to Farao:
"You… don't tell me you get stronger when rejected too?"
"You—you YOU!!"
Farao's eyes bulged with fury, his entire face turning beet red.
"That's it! I've changed my mind! You two are dead! I don't care who shows up today—you're both finished!"
Seeing Farao finally lose it, Hysteria couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety. Even though she and Linen were both certified Arcane Mages, the rooftop's anti-magic field meant they'd have to fight with fists—and in a raw brawl, numbers mattered.
Worse still, she hated to admit it… but if it came to actual hand-to-hand combat, she might just end up dragging Linen down.
Almost reflexively, she glanced at him—only to find his serene profile totally unbothered.
"Don't be ridiculous," Linen said coolly. "We're Arcane Mages. Getting into a fistfight? That's beneath me."
"You think you get to decide that?"
Farao sneered. He wasn't impressed.
Just then, a new voice rang out:
"No, he doesn't get to decide—but Farao, I'm giving Linen a bonus credit for not breaking the rules. As for you and your companions, each of you will lose three credits. Further disciplinary action will be handled by the Student Conduct Office."
BANG!
The rooftop door burst open. A stern-looking elder stepped through, followed by a nervous Elena trailing behind.
"P-Professor Gust?!"
Farao blanched.
Had it been just their homeroom teacher Ken catching them, it wouldn't have been a big deal. Ken tended to look the other way when it came to noble students.
But Gust?
Gust was a Seven-Ring Arcane Mage—and when he gave punishments, he didn't care whose daddy you were.
There'd be no getting out of this one.
But still! If that Norton bastard could manipulate Gust into helping him, then so could he.
"Professor Gust! I want to report something as well! We locked the rooftop door earlier. There's no way Linen Norton could've come up here without using Arcane magic!"
Farao spoke loudly, eyes gleaming with malicious glee.
Using magic inside the school building was strictly forbidden—last time, Linen had used this same rule to drive off a group of upperclassmen harassing Elena.
"Is that true, Linen? I did hear that." Gust turned toward him, eyes sharp with interest. "Did you use Arcane magic?"
"Yes, Professor Gust," Linen replied calmly, completely unbothered.
"Oh? Then please explain how you used Arcane magic inside a sealed zone. The building is warded with anti-magic formations, as you know."
"I discovered that the seal only applies inside the building," Linen explained. "So I lightened my body with a wind-element spell and climbed up from the outside."
He actually admitted it?!
Farao grinned inwardly.
You're dead now, punk. Violating the anti-magic rule is way worse than getting into a fight. Enjoy your punishment.
"I see,"
Gust's eyes flickered with a strange gleam. Then he gave a slow nod.
"Very well. Award Linen three more credits for creative problem-solving."