The time agreed upon in the letter was 4 p.m. after class, and the place was the rooftop terrace.
The rooftop, huh?
A classic spot for a campus confession.
Anna thought as she leaned her back against the cold pillar.
In just two short days, she had experienced her first-ever confession—and had spectacularly been rejected; then, she had received her first confession in return.
It seemed that ever since meeting Ophelia, the gears of her life had begun to turn.
“Have you been waiting long?”
An unexpected voice.
Anna turned around, and Beatrice stepped onto the rooftop.
“Beatrice? Why are you here?”
“Surprised?”
The tapping of Beatrice’s heels struck the ground rhythmically as she approached step by step, hands clasped behind her back, exuding a determined air.
“Your new hairstyle suits you, Anna.”
At those words, Anna lowered her gaze to the twin braids hanging over her shoulders.
Ophelia seemed to really like her wearing her hair this way, so despite the trouble, Anna had braided her hair—though she didn’t want to explain that to Beatrice.
“Beatrice… why…”
“Is it not allowed for me to confess my love to you, Anna?”
“A love confession is a bit too much…”
This person is dangerous. Anna’s intuition shouted inside her mind.
She especially didn’t want that person to be the friend she had struggled so hard to make.
Why did it have to be Beatrice?
“Beatrice…”
A friendship so rare was probably about to shatter with her rejection.
The words “I’m sorry” can sometimes be lighter than paper, sometimes heavier than a mountain.
They may not win you others’ tears or pity, but they can easily crush a relationship. “I’m sorry” truly is a strange existence.
“What’s got you so nervous, Anna?” Beatrice stepped forward and casually linked arms with Anna.
Anna instinctively wanted to pull away, but Beatrice’s hand tightened like a vine, wrapping around her more and more, until there was no way to shake it off.
She was certain Anna would care about their so-called “friendship.”
Beatrice was grateful for having won Anna’s trust that night in the library.
Such a pure, gullible little fool—no wonder she had been tormented into that state three years ago by those idiots.
From the revered Hero to a mere Noble in the Lower City, Anna, don’t you have any regrets?
“Trying to shake me off so quickly? Anna… do you think a friend like me doesn’t deserve to be this close to you?”
“I never thought that… I’m sorry, Beatrice.”
Anna gave up struggling; everything was in Beatrice’s control.
Naturally—Beatrice never made mistakes.
“Then why? No one can see us here, including Ophelia.”
At the mention of Ophelia’s name, Anna’s expression darkened in an instant.
Just as she had suspected, the relationship between those two was definitely unusual.
Her idiot older brother had managed to gather some crucial information.
That high-ranking Northern Heiress, Ophelia—if she and her Noble, that criminal hero, were involved somehow, if it got out, the Royal Newspaper would surely love to fan the flames. This would be a once-in-a-lifetime big event.
How would the Northern Sun react? Would she fly into a rage? Or would she cover up the family shame beneath the ice sheet?
And Ophelia herself, proud and aloof—would she be disgraced? Without the moon surrounded by stars, even if she shone alone, who would still look up to her?
As for Anna… her hope was once again shattered. Would she become the puppet to be manipulated again? That despair would certainly be delicious.
Then, Beatrice pressed the Switch hidden in her palm.
Somewhere, a Magic Tool was triggered.
Should she thank Beatrice for her trust? Anna seemed completely unaware.
You’d better put away that defenseless attitude, little Anna.
After this, she probably wouldn’t trust anyone ever again—hmph, consider it a lesson.
She should be thanking herself.
Delightful. Truly delightful.
Next, she would accompany little Anna in a play of unrequited love and painful sacrifice.
Beatrice even felt her eyes begin to water.
“So… Anna, tell me your answer.”
Tears glimmered at the corners of Beatrice’s eyes; her cherry lips were pressed into a thin line, as if a thousand unspeakable words were trapped inside.
The evening breeze lifted her skirt as she stepped forward into the wind, timidly reaching out her hand—but it fell before she could grasp Anna’s sleeve.
Her brows drooped; her shoulders trembled imperceptibly, as if another gust of wind would send her tumbling.
Beatrice was almost moved by her own sincerity.
“Sorry… Beatrice.” Anna bit her lower lip tightly, as if only the sting of breaking skin could mask the torment inside.
She knew what consequences rejection would bring—maybe she would lose this rare friend.
But she had to say it; there was no room in her heart for a second person.
“I… already like someone.”
The expected confession—if this were a Stage Play, the climax was near.
Beatrice eagerly awaited the climax; her heart raced and her lips trembled. Nothing could delight her more at this moment.
Say it, say that name, little Anna.
Say you like Ophelia; don’t hide it. We’re friends, right? Friends shouldn’t keep secrets.
Maybe I’ll even cheer for you two.
“Is that so…”
Beatrice’s smile drooped; her spirits seemed to dissipate with the passing breeze. “Can you tell me who it is that Anna likes?”
“Sorry… Beatrice, it’s just my unrequited love. I don’t want to trouble her.”
Not enough. Beatrice felt she had to add fuel to the fire.
“If you don’t tell me, I won’t be satisfied. Being defeated by someone whose name I don’t even know—I probably won’t have the face to keep associating with Anna anymore.”
Beatrice forced a smile, but her lips refused to lift fully.
Tears rolled down her cheeks; she resolutely wiped them away, bowed deeply to Anna, and turned without a word, looking ready to exit the stage with regret.
Can you really stand this? Beatrice inwardly admired Anna’s composure.
Your good friend is about to leave you because of your silence.
“Anna likes Ophelia, right? Because you’re both girls, that’s why it’s hard for you to tell me? Anna, thank you for your understanding.”
“You knew, huh, Beatrice?”
Good reaction. The climax Beatrice had long awaited had finally arrived.
“Yes, I like Ophelia. I like her very much. So even if I lose you as a friend… I have to say ‘sorry.’”
She said it—finally said it.
Suppressing the joy in her heart, Beatrice turned back.
“Even if she treats you that way? I’ve heard about how Ophelia has made you do many terrible things, haven’t I?”
“Your new hairstyle… you did it for Ophelia too, didn’t you? Anna, you’re so foolish, really.”
Beatrice’s fingertips lightly brushed the ends of Anna’s braids, forcing a smile as if to suppress her emotions.
But to Anna, that smile was forced past breaking point; it was more like crying.
Beatrice, even while crying, could not shed tears.
“Beatrice… I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize, Anna. Knowing your true feelings is enough for me.”
“Sorry… sorry…”
Not enough—Beatrice had to drop one more bomb on little Anna.
“Anna, from what I’ve heard, Ophelia likes you too. I heard about that kiss she gave you on the street. So, I’m stepping back—wishing you two an early happy ending.”
For whom she said that, Beatrice switched off the Magic Tool as the last sound faded into the air.
That was enough. It was time for her to exit. Little Anna had her next performance to head toward.
“Goodbye, Anna.”
Beatrice bowed deeply, taking her final curtain call. She left as silently as she had come, leaving Anna alone on the rooftop.
The wind wasn’t cold, but it was bone-chilling.
Anna knew she had probably just lost a friend.
But she had no idea she was already at the very center of a new storm.