Saintess and Witch

I really needed to stop underestimating Cecilia.

She couldn't actually read minds, of course. That would've made dealing with her significantly easier. Instead, she did something far more dangerous—she read people. Too well.

Even now, as I sat on the edge of my bed, I could still feel the lingering imprint of her gaze, that sharp, knowing smirk right before she walked out the door. She had read me perfectly, anticipated my every reaction, and moved exactly as she wanted.

That was the terrifying thing about Cecilia Slatemark.

She didn't manipulate people with grand schemes or long-term ploys. She saw you, decided what you were, and then acted—and it always seemed like she won.

'Wow,' Luna's voice chimed in my mind, 'she's really something, huh?'

'Something terrifying,' I corrected.

'Something crazy,' Luna mused, her tone half-amused, half-exasperated. 'And you? You're a crazy guy, so it all evens out.'

I frowned. 'I am not crazy.'

Silence.

A beat passed.

Another.

'Luna?'

'Oh, I just didn't expect you to lie to yourself so blatantly,' she finally responded, her voice practically dripping with amusement. 'You're a crazy bastard, Arthur. You act like you don't have control, but in reality? You've got your hands on every single thread. You just pretend you don't.'

I scoffed, rubbing my temples. 'I don't have everything under control.'

Luna laughed. Not out loud, obviously, but the mental equivalent of a smug, knowing chuckle that somehow irritated me more than if she had just said I was an idiot outright.

'Oh sure,' she hummed, 'just keep telling yourself that.'

I let out a sigh, shaking my head.

Getting involved with Cecilia was the worst possible decision. Not just because she was a sociopath—she was the sociopath. She had a massive sense of self-importance, a level of arrogance that could rival Lucifer's, and the complete lack of hesitation to act on whatever entertained her at the moment.

It was possible for her to love normally—or at least something close to it—but that was beyond difficult. Only Lucifer had ever managed it in the original story, and even then, it took a level of patience I did not possess.

I sighed and rubbed my face. No more distractions. No more—

A knock.

I checked the door before opening it this time. My lips pressed into a thin line when I saw who was standing outside.

Rachel.

I exhaled, relieved. This was fine. Rachel was normal.

I opened the door. "Hey, Rach, what's up?"

She smiled, tilting her head slightly. "Nothing much. I just saw Cecilia leaving your room looking—"

She stopped mid-sentence.

Her sapphire eyes flickered, narrowing slightly.

I didn't realize the problem until her gaze dropped—just barely—before flicking back up.

Ah.

I wiped my mouth. A faint smudge of deep crimson lipstick came away on my fingers.

Rachel's lips pressed together.

She didn't say anything.

She didn't need to say anything.

She turned on her heel and walked away.

I sighed and rubbed my face. Stupid.

I decided to just rest up for the day and focus on tomorrow instead.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Rachel Creighton prided herself on being composed. Logical. Unshakable.

She loved school. Loved studying. Loved the quiet satisfaction of seeing a perfect score beside her name. She had worked hard to maintain that perfection, and she looked forward to every morning with the anticipation of someone who knew she was in control of her world.

At least, that was usually the case.

Not today.

Even after dressing in her neatly pressed uniform.

Even after arriving at the hyperloop station and greeting her classmates.

Even after settling into her usual spot, textbook in hand, ready to drown out the noise with the comforting predictability of learning.

None of it helped.

And then, of course, Cecilia had to show up.

"Hey, Ray-Ray~"

Rachel closed her book with measured precision. It was either that or snap it shut with enough force to take off a finger.

Cecilia, undeterred, flopped into the seat next to her, stretching like a particularly smug cat.

Rachel inhaled deeply. Exhaled.

"Cecilia," she acknowledged, voice cool, measured. The way one might greet an unexpected system error before rebooting everything.

"Aww, are you still mad about the nickname?" Cecilia pouted, tilting her head in mock innocence as the hyperloop surged forward, sleek and silent along its magnetic tracks.

Rachel didn't dignify that with a response.

Cecilia's eyes glinted—that particular glint that meant she was enjoying herself far too much.

"Or is it because of a certain boy~?"

Rachel did not react.

Cecilia, of course, took that as permission to continue.

"Ray-Ray has a crush on a boy~" she sing-songed, stretching her legs lazily as if this were the most entertaining conversation she'd had all week. "And that boy… well, he got stolen."

Rachel stared at her. Expressionless. Unblinking.

"Stolen?" she echoed.

Cecilia's smirk widened. "Mhm. His lips were so soft, too~"

Rachel's fingers twitched. A small, entirely accidental surge of golden light sparked at her fingertips, barely contained.

Purifying magic was meant for Dark Beasts. Meant for things that lurked in the shadows, twisting and corrupting the world around them. Not for irritating sociopaths.

But in that moment, Rachel considered making an exception.

The hyperloop hissed to a halt, doors sliding open smoothly as students spilled out onto the Mythos Academy platform.

Cecilia stood, stretching again. "Careful, Ray-Ray," she purred. "Your jealousy is showing~"

Rachel didn't answer.

She didn't have to.

The moment they stepped out, their mana clashed.

A faint flicker of gold and crimson, barely visible, crackled in the air between them before fading into nothing. The kind of confrontation no one else would notice—but they did.

Rachel frowned.

Cecilia had gotten stronger.

Before, when Cecilia was still mid Silver-rank, Rachel had held the upper hand. She hadn't admitted it outright, but deep down, she had known. She had been superior.

Now, she wasn't.

Now, they were equal.

Rachel took a slow breath, evened herself out, and walked forward.

She had class to get to. And Cecilia Slatemark, for all her infuriating habits, was not about to ruin her perfect morning routine.

At least, that was the plan.

"But you shouldn't be mad if you only want to use him as a shield," Cecilia mused, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Rachel didn't miss a step. "I'm just worried about him," she said evenly. "As a friend. After all, a psycho like you has him in your sights."

"A psycho?" Cecilia echoed, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense. "Ray-Ray, really. You need to be mindful of your words. And for the record—" she leaned in slightly, eyes glinting, "—he isn't prey."

Rachel scoffed. "The day someone like you actually likes a boy is the day the sun rises from the west."

"And I don't have a crush on him," she added swiftly, voice firm. "Nor was he stolen. Nothing happened."

Cecilia's smile was lazy, confident. It sent a prickle of irritation down Rachel's spine.

"You know, Ray-Ray," Cecilia drawled, stretching her arms behind her head, "if there's one thing I excel at—aside from, well, everything—it's reading people. And I can read you very well."

Rachel stopped walking.

Cecilia's smirk widened.

"I know something happened between you and him over the fall break," Cecilia continued, voice soft and knowing. "Something that changed how you look at him."

Rachel stared.

She wasn't sure why those words hit.

Not because they were true—because they weren't. Obviously.

And not because she had anything to hide—because she didn't. Obviously.

It was the way Cecilia said it. Like she had already seen the ending of a story Rachel didn't know she was in.

"I don't know what he showed you," Cecilia murmured, tilting her head, examining Rachel like a puzzle she was about to solve. "But I'll find out. And in the end—" her smile was razor-sharp, confident, certain—"I will win."

Rachel's expression didn't falter. Her sapphire eyes met crimson without a flicker of hesitation.

"You will never beat me in anything, Cecilia."

Silence stretched between them, humming with an unspoken challenge.

Then, without another word, they turned and walked into the academy—two princesses, two legacies, both pretending they weren't measuring the space between them with every step.