Chapter 41

Celeste smiled, tilting her head slightly as she observed the girl in front of her. "You must be Athasia, right?" she said in a sickly sweet voice. "I'm Celeste, Zamiel's fiancée."

Silence.

Athasia didn't react, didn't even spare her a glance. It was as if she hadn't spoken at all. The complete disregard sent a sharp stab of irritation through Celeste.

Her? Ignored?

She was Celeste Albrecht, the daughter of a high-ranking noble family, the top socialite right after Mira Caldwell. Wherever she went, people sought her approval, craving even a second of her attention. And yet, this so-called "girlfriend" of Zamiel didn't even acknowledge her presence?

Her fingers curled tightly around the handle of her purse as she forced herself to keep smiling.

Refusing to be dismissed so easily, she extended her hand toward Athasia, intending to establish her dominance with a polite but firm touch. If this girl thought she could brush her off so easily, she was gravely mistaken.

But before she could make contact, one of the girls beside her gasped and immediately reached out, gripping her wrist in a panic.

Celeste's brows furrowed.

"Don't touch her," the girl whispered, her voice trembling.

Celeste turned to look at the girl, irritation flashing in her blue eyes. "What did you just say?"

The girl swallowed hard, her face pale as she shook her head.

"Just don't touch her," she pleaded, lowering her voice as if even saying it out loud was dangerous.

Celeste's patience was thinning. What was with this ridiculous overreaction? What was so terrifying about a simple handshake?

With an exasperated sigh, she attempted to fling the girl's hand off her wrist.

But the second she even considered the action—

A suffocating chill crept up her spine.

The air around her grew thick, almost tangible, pressing down on her like invisible chains. The atmosphere, once buzzing with the whispers of students, suddenly felt eerily silent.

And then, she felt it.

The weight of an unrelenting, murderous gaze.

Slowly, hesitantly, she turned her head.

Green eyes—glowing, sharp, merciless—stared right through her, sending a deep, primal terror surging through her body.

Athasia hadn't moved, hadn't spoken yet, but the sheer intensity in her expression made Celeste freeze on the spot. It was as if she was staring at something inhuman, something not bound by the same rules as everyone else.

The deadly silence stretched on until, finally, Athasia parted her lips.

Her voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came before a storm.

"I dare you," she said, her tone like the edge of a blade, "to fling her hand away."

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, but it wasn't playful. It was a warning. A promise.

Celeste's breath hitched.

The weight of the moment crashed down on her, suffocating, paralyzing.

This wasn't someone she could intimidate.

This wasn't someone she could win against.

And for the first time in her life, Celeste Albrecht felt true, unshakable fear.