Electra’s POV

Yuna was staring at me again. For the umpteenth time that day, I rolled my eyes, dragging out the motion for dramatic effect. “For the love of sanity, Yuna, stop looking at me like that,” I said, my tone exasperated.

She didn’t flinch, didn’t even pretend to be embarrassed. Instead, she tilted her head, having that same infuriatingly fascinated look in her wide eyes. “I’m just trying to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” I asked, though I already knew where this was going. Again.

“How you’ve already met Seraphina Vale,” she said. “You haven’t even been here three days, and yet somehow, you’re already… I don’t know, in her orbit. I mean, Seraphina Vale already knows who you are, Electra. That’s crazy!”

I groaned inwardly. This had been her singular topic of conversation since first period, and now, as we made our way to the dining hall for lunch, she was still hung up on it. “I told you not to bother asking,” I said, my tone flat. “You don’t need to know.”

“But—”

“Yuna.” I shot her a look, cutting her off. “Drop it.”

Her lips pressed into a pout, but she relented with a soft sigh, her curiosity clearly not extinguished but momentarily dulled. She became silent as we approached the double doors of the dining hall, even though I could feel her sneaking glances at me out of the corner of my eye.

As we arrived at the doors, I noticed Yuna slowing down, her steps growing hesitant. It wasn’t obvious, but I’d spent enough time observing people to catch the subtle shifts in her body language.

She was nervous about something.

I stopped, turning to face her with a confused frown. “What’s wrong?”

Yuna gave me an awkward smile, brushing a hand through her hair as if trying to play it off. “Oh, nothing,” she said lightly. “Just… not a big fan of crowded spaces, that’s all.”

I raised a skeptical brow. “That’s all?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. I’m not really comfortable eating in the dining hall. It’s always packed, and, well, I usually just eat alone. It’s easier that way.”

Her words didn’t surprise me, not really. I already knew why she avoided the dining hall. In my real life as Electra Vale, I’d sometimes seen how she and her twin were often overlooked and teased by others, but she didn’t know I knew, and I wasn’t about to let her know I did.

Instead, I widened my eyes dramatically, faking a shocked gasp. “What? You eat lunch alone? Isn’t that… I don’t know, lonely?”

Yuna shrugged, looking down at her shoes. “Not really. I mean, it’s peaceful, and I don’t have to deal with all the noise and stares.”

Noise and stares. She didn’t say it outright, but I could read between the lines. She hated the judgment, the way the other girls probably gossiped about her and laughed at her.

Still, her answer didn’t sit well with me. It wasn’t pity—I didn’t do pity—but there was something about her resignation that grated on my nerves, and now that she was supposed to be my friend, I wasn’t about to keep a weakling around as a friend.

“Well, that’s not going to work today,” I said firmly, crossing my arms.

She blinked up at me, visibly confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re not eating alone,” I said. “You’re eating with me.”

Her eyes widened. “What? No, I can’t—”

“Sure you can,” I interrupted, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the doors before she could protest further. “Come on.”

“But—”

“No buts,” I said again, smirking at how quickly I’d turned her own excuse against her. “You’ll survive, I promise.”

I pushed open the doors to the dining hall, and the sound of hundreds of girls talking, laughing, and moving around almost made me feel dizzy.

Yuna hesitated at the entrance, her discomfort evident, but I didn’t let go of her wrist. “Come on,” I said, dragging her further inside. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

Her gaze darted around the room, and I could see the tension in her shoulders as she tried to avoid looking at anyone directly. “I really don’t think this is a good idea,” she muttered under her breath.

“Relax,” I said, steering us toward an empty corner table. “No one’s going to bite, at least not while I’m here.”

We sat down, and for a moment, Yuna looked like she wanted to bolt. Her eyes flitted nervously across the room, probably waiting for someone to point or laugh, but no one did.

In fact, most of the girls were too preoccupied with their own conversations to notice us at all.

“See?” I said, gesturing around the room. “No one cares.”

Yuna let out a shaky laugh, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “I guess not.”

Sitting back in my chair, I let out a content sigh, my fingers tapping lazily on the table as Yuna and I waited for the dining hall staff to bring our lunch.

Yuna seemed more relaxed now, even though she kept darting glances around the room, probably still worried about the attention she thought we were getting.

“Relax,” I told her again, smirking. “No one’s looking at you. They’re all too busy gossiping.”

She gave me a weak smile, but her shoulders remained tense. Typical weaklings—too concerned with everyone else’s opinion. I was about to make another sarcastic comment when a shadow fell over the table. Then another, and another.

When I looked up, I found four girls standing around our table, their arms crossed and their expressions sour. Great. Just what I needed.

“What the hell are you all standing around for?” I snapped, my irritation flaring instantly.

The tallest of the group, a blonde with brown eyes and a demeanor that screamed self-entitlement, stepped forward. “This is our table,” she said sharply. “You two shouldn’t be here.”

I stared at her for a moment, then let out a slow, exaggerated sigh. So this was how it felt. For the first time, I was experiencing what it was like to be on the receiving end of this particular brand of petty entitlement.

As myself, I’d done this more times than I could count—walking up to a table, claiming it as mine, and expecting everyone to clear out without question. It had always been amusing to watch people scramble to appease me.

Now? It was just annoying.

Yuna, however, reacted exactly as I used to expect people to. Her eyes widened, and she immediately began to push back her chair. “I’m so sorry,” she said hastily. “We didn’t know—”

“Sit down,” I interrupted, my voice firm as I shot her a look.

She froze mid-movement, her confusion evident. “But—”

“I said, sit down,” I repeated, and when she hesitated, I softened my tone just slightly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Reluctantly, she lowered herself back into her seat, though her discomfort was written all over her face. I turned my attention back to the group of girls, my patience already wearing thin.

“Well?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to keep standing there, or do you have something else to say?”

The blonde’s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly irritated that I wasn’t backing down. “This is our table,” she repeated, her tone colder now. “We’ve been sitting here since the start of term.”

“Congratulations,” I said dryly. “But today, Yuna and I are sitting here. So either join us since there’s more than enough space, or find another table.”

The other girls exchanged uncertain glances, clearly not expecting resistance. The blonde narrowed her eyes at me, her stance stiffening as though she was trying to intimidate me. Cute.

“You must be new,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “Because if you knew who I was, you wouldn’t—”

“I don’t care who you are,” I interrupted, leaning forward and resting my elbows on the table. “This table isn’t reserved. We got here first. End of story.”

“How dare you—” she began, but I cut her off with a sharp laugh.

“How dare I what? Sit down at an empty table and eat lunch? Newsflash, doll face: I’m going to keep sitting here for as long as I want to, so if you have a problem with it, I suggest you take it up with someone who actually cares, ’cause that person ain’t me.”

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