The cafeteria buzzed with voices, clattering trays, and the usual gossip of high school hierarchy. Students gathered in their groups, laughter spilling from corners. But at the far edge of the cafeteria, sitting alone as always, was her — the girl everyone whispered about.
"There she is… Ghost Girl," someone muttered.
Aristea Bernowel. With her round glasses and distant eyes, she was the definition of aloof. Never speaking unless spoken to, always head down in her books, always disappearing between classes like mist.
Other girls disliked her — maybe out of jealousy, maybe because she never joined in the gossip or fashion talk. But Reina? Reina saw her differently.
"She's not weird. She's self-made. Independent."
Zaire, busy in his own thoughts and enjoying the crisps of crunchy fries , looked up. "Who?"
Reina nodded subtly toward the lone table.
"Aristea Bernowel. She's the heir to one of the oldest families in the city — poets, writers, you name it. Her family's basically literary royalty. But no one sees that. They just call her a ghost."
Zaire blinked. "She looks… like she could vanish any second."
And just as he said that, a commotion broke out.
A group of second-years — known bullies — circled Aristea. One of them snatched the book from her hands and tossed it across the cafeteria.
"Oops," the leader sneered. "Did the ghost lose her precious book?"
The cafeteria quieted. Everyone watched.
Zaire didn't move.
"You going to just sit there, Unworthy Prince?" Reina said, sharp as ever. "Thought you were training to be some hero. Or is your pride still napping?"
Zaire's eyebrow twitched.
He stood up.
By the time he got close, something unexpected happened — Aristea punched the guy straight in the face.
"I don't care if you see me or not," she said coldly. "But don't touch my books."
The bully stumbled back, nose bleeding.
But his friend — the bigger one — was winding up to strike back.
Zaire's hand clamped onto his wrist.
"Try it," Zaire said, his voice lower than usual. "And I'll show you what the Unworthy Prince is really capable of."
A subtle shimmer glinted in Zaire's eyes — the echo of his bond with Anubis. That primitive aura flashed for just a moment. The bully paled and backed away.
"Tch… not worth it."
The group retreated, muttering curses.
Zaire turned to find Aristea kneeling, calmly picking up her scattered books.
He knelt beside her, holding out a hand.
"Zaire Grimveil. The so-called Unworthy Prince," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Nice punch, by the way."
She raised an eyebrow, but slowly took his hand.
"Aristea Bernowel. Heiress of the Bernowel line. Thanks, I guess."
He glanced at her.
"Didn't know you had that kind of strength behind those glasses."
"Most people don't," she replied dryly.
And right then —
"ZAIRE!" Reina's voice rang out across the cafeteria. "IF YOU TAKE ANY LONGER, I'M EATING YOUR JELLY!"
Zaire looked back, exasperated. "That woman…"
Aristea chuckled. Just a little. But enough.
He turned back to her. "Guess I'll see you around, Ghost Girl."
"Maybe," she said. "Maybe not."
And just like that — she walked off with her books in hand, and the mystery deepened.
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End of Chapter 4