Elaine stormed out of the principal's office, her heels clicking angrily against the marble floor as her face twisted into a scowl.
Her chest heaved with restrained rage, and her hands were clenched so tightly that her fingernails dug crescents into her palms.
"Fenrir Black! That arrogant, insufferable rich brat… He really thinks money can solve everything."
She hissed under her breath.
Her mind swirled with fury.
Two million.
That was the sum he had offered—as if her values and the academy's standards had a price tag attached to them.
As if all her hard work, her discipline, her sense of justice could be bought with a few zeroes.
But then her anger faltered slightly, and a flicker of reality snuck through.
'Two million.'
That kind of money could have paid off a good portion of her family's debts.
It could've covered her younger sister's tuition. It could've kept the collectors off their backs for at least another year.
Elaine stopped in her tracks and squeezed her eyes shut, willing the thoughts away.
"No. I am not going to sell my integrity, not even for my family. We'll get through this. I'll make sure we do."
She whispered fiercely.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed those thoughts away.
The moment she straightened her shoulders and turned the corner, fate decided to play another cruel joke on her.
Standing in the hallway ahead was Mark.
Elaine's stomach twisted. Mark wasn't just a classmate or another jerk—he was the son of the man her parents owed the most money to.
A bully, a leech, and someone who loved exploiting his position of power.
As soon as he saw her, a grin spread across his face, and he casually pushed off the wall.
"Elaine, what a coincidence. I was just looking for you."
He drawled, stepping into her path.
"I don't have time for your games."
She snapped and tried to sidestep him.
But Mark was faster. He moved into her path again, trapping her between the lockers and his smug presence.
"Relax. I just came to deliver a friendly message from dear old dad. He wants me to give you another chance."
Elaine glared at him, jaw clenched.
"Another job?"
Mark nodded, eyes gleaming.
"Do it, and maybe we'll forgive some of the debt. Say… five percent. That's not a bad deal, is it?"
"I'm not selling myself for scraps. Not to you. Not to anyone."
She said through gritted teeth.
Mark's grin widened.
"Are you sure? That pride of yours won't feed your family when the collectors come knocking. I hear the deadline's coming soon. From what I know, your family hasn't even scraped together half the amount."
Elaine shoved him hard, catching him off guard and forcing him to stumble back.
"I said I'll handle it! We don't need your 'jobs.'"
She snapped.
Just then, movement caught her eye.
She turned her head and spotted Fenrir walking out of the principal's office. He looked the same as ever—apathetic, detached, and completely unbothered by anything around him.
Elaine's heart skipped a beat.
Had he heard?
Fenrir's eyes met hers for a brief second.
She wasn't sure what she expected from him. Maybe a look of understanding? A word?
Some acknowledgment? But he only stared for a moment, then turned away without so much as a nod.
Her chest tightened.
Of course.
Why had she even entertained the idea? Fenrir Black wasn't the type to get involved in someone else's problems. He didn't care.
Elaine turned back to Mark and pushed past him, her voice low but firm.
"Tell your father I'll get him the money. On my own terms."
Mark called after her with a mocking laugh.
"Can't wait to see how you pull that off, princess."
But Elaine didn't stop walking. She kept her head high, even though the lump in her throat grew with every step.
There was no fairy godmother waiting in the wings for her. No rich savior. No miracle.
Just her.
And she would do whatever it took to survive—without selling her soul.
______
Fenrir stepped out of the principal's office and immediately sensed something off.
His gaze shifted to the hallway just ahead, where two people stood too close—Elaine and a boy with an arrogant smirk plastered across his face.
The tension between them was unmistakable.
Fenrir's eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange from a distance.
He could see it in Elaine's clenched fists, in the rigid line of her shoulders, in the way she shoved the boy away and stormed off without another word.
Trouble.
Fenrir could intervene, easily. One word, one warning, and the guy would back off. But something stopped him.
He studied Elaine's expression—fierce, proud, burning with indignation—and he knew.
She wouldn't want help. Not his, at least.
She was the type who would see charity as insult, and if he stepped in, she'd take it as a challenge to her pride.
And worse, she might think he was trying to buy her off again.
So, Fenrir did nothing.
He turned away and let her handle it. Not out of cruelty—but because he understood people like her. She needed to win her battles her way.
Still, his mind lingered on the encounter as he walked down the hallway, hands stuffed into his hoodie's pockets.
Now that he was officially attending school, his dungeon excursions would be limited.
He couldn't afford to disappear for days at a time, not with nosy teachers and class schedules breathing down his neck.
That meant his path to strength needed adjustment.
"Can't sit still for long."
He muttered, eyes scanning the hallway. "I'll need to find other training grounds… maybe short-burst dungeons, or enhancement rituals."
He remembered some of the artifacts listed in the system's marketplace.
A few were time-based accelerators—compressed training simulations, or temporary stat boosters—but most were outrageously overpriced or locked behind restrictions.
Still, with the credits he had stored up, maybe he could afford one or two low-tier items that would help.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of whispers.
"Is that him?"
"Yeah, the guy who walked into the principal's office and walked out in ten minutes?"
"What did he do to get out that fast?"
"Must be rich… Look at him. Doesn't even care."
Fenrir sighed and ignored the stares as he entered the classroom.
He headed straight for his seat in the back, flopping down with a heavy breath before resting his head on his arms again.
The wood of the desk was cool against his forehead, and for a moment, he let himself relax, tuning out the world around him.
But it didn't take long for the room's energy to shift again.
The door opened, and light footsteps entered.
Elaine Croix.
He didn't look up, but he felt her presence like a ripple in the air.
She paused briefly at the entrance, and even without seeing her, he knew she had spotted him.
A second passed. Then another. Her shoes clicked softly as she made her way to her seat. No words. No accusations.
Just a sharp huff of breath as she sat down, her bag hitting the desk with more force than necessary.
Fenrir opened one eye, glancing in her direction through the curtain of his arm.
She was fuming.
He could tell.
But it wasn't the same cold rage she'd carried in the principal's office.