Third-person Pov

Seraphina stood at the back of the gathering crowd on the rooftop, flanked by Irina, Roxana, Penelope, and Deena. Students surrounded Electra, phones raised high as they took pictures and videos, and Seraphina kept her arms crossed, her gaze locked on Electra.

The girl looked utterly humiliated, her expression a mix of fury, despair, and exhaustion. Her messy hair partially covered her face, but it wasn’t enough to hide the redness in her cheeks or the hollow look in her eyes.

Her body was trembling—whether from the cold or the humiliation, Seraphina wasn’t sure.

And yet, Seraphina’s lips curled into a faint smirk, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. This is what she deserves, she told herself for the hundredth time. This is justice.

But even as she watched Electra, a feeling of guilt bothered her so much that it almost weakened her resolve. It wasn’t just the sight of Electra trembling or the way her wrist looked raw and red from the cuff. It was the sheer scale of the scene—the growing number of students piling onto the rooftop, the relentless snapping of cameras, the laughter as well as the taunts.

The longer Seraphina watched, the more she began to feel the seriousness of what she’d orchestrated.

“Is this… too much?” she muttered under her breath, almost inaudibly.

Roxana, standing beside her, noticed the subtle shift in Seraphina’s demeanor. She leaned in and gently tapped her on the arm. “Hey, you okay?” she asked, her tone low enough that only Seraphina could hear. “You’ve been staring at her like that for a while. You look like you’re regretting this whole circus.”

Seraphina blinked, snapped out of her thoughts. She turned to Roxana, her expression hardening. “I’m fine,” she said sharply, her voice clipped. “And I’m not regretting anything.”

Roxana raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You sure? Because it’s starting to look like—”

“I said I’m fine,” Seraphina cut her off, her voice stern. She straightened her posture, her smirk returning with precision. “Electra’s just getting what she deserves. There’s nothing to regret.”

Roxana frowned, the confusion evident on her face. To her, this was nothing more than a prank—a way to put a new girl in her place for disrespecting the princess of the kingdom, but Seraphina was speaking about it with a seriousness that didn’t quite match the warning Roxana had assumed this was.

Still, she refrained from pressing further. “Well,” she said after a moment, glancing back at the growing crowd, “don’t you think it’s time to end this? The whole school’s going to know about it soon, if they don’t already. If she faints or something, it’s gonna look bad.”

Seraphina hesitated, her smirk faltering ever so slightly. She knew Roxana was right. Electra looked dangerously close to collapsing, and the last thing Seraphina needed was for this to spiral out of control, but admitting that Roxana was right felt like admitting defeat, and Seraphina couldn’t bring herself to do that. Not yet.

“She won’t faint,” Seraphina said, her tone dismissive. “She’s stronger than she looks.”

Roxana shot her a skeptical look but didn’t argue. Instead, she turned her attention back to Electra, who was now visibly struggling to keep herself upright. Her knees wobbled, and she leaned against the rail, her free hand clutching at it for support.

Deena, standing on Seraphina’s other side, shifted uncomfortably. “She looks really bad,” she murmured, her voice hesitant. “Maybe we should stop—”

“She’s fine,” Seraphina snapped, cutting Deena off before she could finish. The sharpness in her tone surprised even herself, and she immediately regretted it when Deena flinched slightly.

But the guilt inside her was quickly replaced by anger. Not at Deena, or Roxana, or even Electra—at herself. This was her plan. Her execution. She couldn’t afford to second-guess it now, not when she’d come this far.

*Electra deserves this,* she reminded herself, clenching her fists. After everything she’s done, this is nothing compared to what she put others through.

And yet, no matter how many times she repeated it, the feeling of guilt refused to go away.

“Alright,” Roxana said finally, breaking the silence. “If you’re not going to end it, I will.”

Seraphina whipped her head toward Roxana, her eyes narrowing. “You’ll do no such thing,” she said coldly.

“Come on, Seraphina,” Roxana replied, her tone firm. “You’ve made your point. She’s not going to forget this, but if this goes on much longer, it’s going to cross a line, and you know it. We don’t want a dead girl on our resume.”

Seraphina opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. She hated how much sense Roxana was making. She hated the nagging feeling that maybe—just maybe—she was taking this too far. But most of all, she hated the idea of letting Electra off the hook too soon, of giving her even a sliver of reprieve before she was ready.

As she looked back at Electra, something inside her wavered.

“Fine,” Seraphina said through gritted teeth. She turned on her heel, heading toward the rails. “I’ll end it.”

Roxana and the others exchanged glances but said nothing as they followed her.

Seraphina pushed her way through the crowd of students, her expression a mask of indifference, but inside, her thoughts churned with doubt, guilt, and something she couldn’t quite name.

As she approached Electra, she saw the girl’s eyes narrow, her jaw tightening as she straightened herself as much as she could. Even now, even in this state, Electra refused to look defeated, and for a brief moment, Seraphina felt a flicker of something close to admiration.

But she pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. She couldn’t afford to show weakness—not now, not ever.

“Alright, everyone,” Seraphina called out, her voice ringing clear and authoritative over the noise of the crowd. “That’s enough. Show’s over. Put your phones away and get out of here.”

The students hesitated for a moment, their gazes shifting between Seraphina and Electra, but when Seraphina fixed them with a pointed glare, they began to disperse, their excitement dying out as they filed back toward the door.

As the rooftop emptied, Seraphina turned back to Electra, her gaze unreadable.

“You’ve had your fun, little princess,” Electra said, her voice hoarse. “Now let me out of this.”

For a moment, Seraphina didn’t respond. She simply stared at Electra, her mind racing with conflicting emotions, and then, without a word, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the key to the handcuffs.

As she unlocked the cuff, her fingers brushed against Electra’s wrist, and she felt the raw heat of the skin underneath. Guilt ran through her again, but she buried it as quickly as it came.

“I guess I should congratulate you, your highness. You won. You humiliated me in a way I’d never forget,” Electra muttered as she pulled her hand free, rubbing at her wrist.

“I hope it was enough to help you learn your lesson,” Seraphina replied quietly, her voice lacking the usual sharpness.

And as she stepped back, watching Electra gather what little dignity she had left, Seraphina couldn’t help but wonder: Had she really won anything at all?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep