The first one to notice was one of Mac's friends.
The smug smile he had already prepared slowly died when he saw Marina walking toward the VIP booth—not alone, hunched over, and uncomfortable like always—but accompanied by Philip, who walked like he owned the building, the nightclub, and possibly the entire city government.
"Huh…" the guy muttered. "Rosalind actually came."
The conversation at the table gradually died down.
Mac automatically looked up, probably expecting to see the usual version of her: hesitant, insecure, ready to endure any snide comment thrown her way.
But then he saw Philip beside her.
And his expression darkened instantly.
Charlote noticed too. Her gentle smile froze for a microsecond before she quickly regained composure.
"Rosalind!" she called, far too sweet to sound natural. "You came! We were worried…"
Philip pulled out a chair without asking permission and sat down first.
"Lie," he replied immediately. "But nice attempt."
Silence.
Marina sat beside him.
Nobody seemed prepared for that.
Mac frowned.
"Heir… right?" he asked, clearly trying to stay polite because he still had no idea who Philip actually was. "I didn't think you two would really come."
"Yeah, well. Life is full of surprises. Like discovering rich adults still behave like unsupervised teenagers."
One of the friends let out a muffled laugh. Another immediately elbowed him.
Charlote tilted her head, keeping her flawless smile.
"I think there was a misunderstanding earlier… I truly never wanted Rosalind to feel uncomfortable…"
Philip grabbed a snack from the table, chewing with the irritating calm of someone who had already decided to cause trouble.
"But she did." He casually pointed at Marina. "So apologize to her."
The atmosphere at the table shifted.
Mac's friends immediately began staring at literally anything except the conversation. Drinks. Lights. Their own existential dread.
Charlote blinked slowly.
"Apologize…?" she repeated delicately. "I think you might be exaggerating a little. Rosalind never told me that—"
"Because she couldn't," Philip cut in. "But now she can. So let's try this again."
Marina felt every eye at the table turn toward her.
Before, that would've made her stomach sink. Her throat tighten. Her mind disappear into that horrible fog where she forgot even her own name.
Now?
Nothing.
She took a deep breath.
Charlote turned toward her with that practiced angelic smile.
"Rosalind… if you truly felt hurt by something, I—"
"'If'?" Marina asked for the first time, interrupting someone at that table.
Silence.
Charlote froze for a second.
Mac's eyes widened.
And Philip slowly placed another snack into his mouth with the expression of absolute paternal pride.
Marina rested her arms on the table, looking directly at Charlote.
"You make comments about my clothes. About me being a scholarship student. You interrupt me whenever I speak. You play the victim every time someone disagrees with you, and you let people treat me like garbage while you sit there smiling. So don't act like you don't know."
The entire table froze.
One of Mac's friends literally muttered:
"Holy shit…"
Charlote tried to laugh, but it came out strained.
"Rosalind, I think you're being too emotional right now—"
"And you think crying prettily fixes everything," Marina shot back immediately.
Mac was completely speechless.
Because that wasn't the Rosalind he knew.
Or rather…
Maybe it was.
Maybe it was exactly the version of her he had never bothered to see.
Philip watched everything silently now, analyzing.
No freezing.
No interference.
No emotional collapse.
Charlote's system really did lose power near him.
Interesting…
Charlote realized it too.
And for the first time since Philip appeared in that world…
…she looked genuinely nervous.