Chapter 7

DIAMOND COLLEGE – FRONT COURTYARD

The heavy silence that followed Lyric's departure was deafening. All eyes shifted from the mysterious girl to the one left behind—Lilian. Her face flushed in embarrassment and dread. She could feel the heat crawling up her neck. She didn't need to turn around to know that Asher and the rest of the A⁴ were now focused on her.

Asher smirked, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "So… your sister defiled our rule, insulted the students, and just walked away like she owns the world. Tell me, Lilian, how should we punish her?"

Lilian's lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Punish Lyric?

Were they suicidal?

These spoiled, twisted elites… did they even understand who they were talking about? This wasn't some stubborn girl playing tough—this was Lyric. A girl who smiled in the face of death, who could peel back a person's soul with just her eyes. A serial killer in disguise, one who danced with blades and hacked through systems like a ghost. And they wanted to punish her?

Lilian's heart thundered against her chest. Her hands trembled as she clasped them together. "Please," she whispered. "I'm sorry for what she did. She… she doesn't take rules well. You shouldn't have told her."

Asher arched an amused brow. Artemis laughed softly, hands in his pockets. "Oh? Now you're blaming the students for reminding her of the rules?"

"No—" Lilian shook her head quickly, "—I just mean she's different. She's not like the others. She… she won't respond the way normal people do."

Ace tilted his head, mask gleaming under the morning sun. "And what if… you take her punishment?"

Lilian's eyes widened in shock. Her lips trembled.

Take Lyric's punishment? That was madness. That was death. But if they tried to touch Lyric, even for a second, their blood would paint the school walls. Lilian wasn't naive. She knew her sister was dangerous—beautifully, coldly dangerous. And if she didn't step in, then the A⁴ wouldn't live to see another morning.

"I'll do it," she said quietly.

The moment the words left her lips, the boys grinned like they'd won a prize.

"Lilian!" a familiar voice shrieked.

Two girls—Aria and Nova—rushed from the crowd. Aria wrapped her arms around Lilian's waist while Nova stood in front of her protectively.

"Don't be stupid!" Nova shouted, glaring at the A⁴. "You know what they're like. They're not just popular—they're ruthless! They enjoy hurting people!"

"She's right," Aria added, voice cracking. "Please don't do this."

But Lilian smiled through the rising panic. "I'll do it for Lyric. Only I know what will happen if they touch her."

The boys exchanged amused glances before Aiden turned to the gathered students. "Alright. She's taking punishment for two people. What should it be?"

The crowd stirred. Laughter bubbled from some. Others whispered in excitement. The thrill of blood, of spectacle, of seeing someone fall—it excited them. These weren't students. These were jackals, children raised on power and privilege.

One boy shouted, "Make her crawl across the assembly path on broken glass!"

"No, no!" a girl countered. "Make her kneel and hold bricks on both arms until she collapses!"

But one cruel voice rose above all. "Let's do the Bleeding Stairs."

The crowd gasped in shock and delight.

Even the A⁴ paused for a beat before Artemis grinned. "Excellent choice."

The Bleeding Stairs was a punishment used in the old days by underground frat groups. The victim would be pushed down a flight of concrete stairs and forced to crawl back up barefoot, arms tied behind their back. They weren't allowed to cry or scream. If they passed out, they'd be revived and forced to start again.

It was banned for a reason.

But at Diamond College, rules were merely suggestions.

Lilian said nothing as they grabbed her arms and began walking her toward the side stairwell. Her knees wobbled. Her heart pounded.

"I'm sorry, Lyric," she whispered.

-------

ELITE CLASSROOM – TOP FLOOR

Lyric sat in the farthest corner of the class, her feet crossed atop the desk, eyes closed behind her black mask. Her aura alone was enough to keep people away from her.

But that peace was shattered when Aria burst into the room, panting, followed by Nova. Aria didn't hesitate—she stormed to Lyric and yanked her up by the wrist.

Lyric's eyes snapped open.

The air around her dropped several degrees. Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.

Nova flinched at the look. "Lilian is downstairs," she stammered, "bleeding… punished… for what you did."

For a moment, Lyric said nothing. Her fingers curled and uncurled. Her breathing slowed. Then, she rose.

Without a word, she walked toward the edge of the classroom. She didn't bother with the stairs. With a swift motion, she stepped off the balcony and landed like a panther—calm and steady.

Gasps erupted from the crowd below.

A student was holding Lilian's bloodied, unconscious body. Her arms were scraped raw, her knees torn open. Blood stained her most liked dress.

Lyric's eyes darkened, her mask falling away slowly. For the first time, the students saw her face.

Pale porcelain skin. High cheekbones. Lush black lashes. But most striking were her eyes—icy blue, piercing like the arctic ocean. They shimmered with fire and frost.

Several students gasped.

"She's beautiful…"

"Her eyes…"

"She's—she's terrifying."

Lilian stirred weakly and saw her sister. "Lyric… don't…"

But Lyric just smiled sweetly. And Lilian's heart stopped.

The boy holding Lilian barely had time to blink before Lyric slammed his head against the stone wall with one fluid motion. A sickening crack echoed as blood sprayed. He dropped like a broken doll.

Gasps and screams broke out in the crowd.

Lyric turned to them, her gaze razor-sharp. "Who ordered this?" she asked, voice calm.

Asher stepped forward. "We did. The Elite A⁴."

She nodded and pulled out her phone. "Good."

Within minutes, five black cars pulled into the school grounds. Men in black suits rushed out, picking Lilian up carefully and carrying her to one of the vehicles.

"Take her to St. Seraphina's. Full private wing. Spare no cost," she ordered.

The men nodded and drove off.

Then, with a serene smile on her face, Lyric turned around.

"This morning is ruined," she muttered. "I'm going home."

The crowd parted like the Red Sea.

As Lyric stepped into one of the cars, the tension was electric. She didn't need to shout. She didn't need to curse.

Because when Lyric Cassandra Sandras smiled, someone bled.

And today, she smiled.