Chapter 4

After leaving the classroom, I did not go home. Cassian would need time to recover from the embarrassment. Lydia would need time to decide whether she was angry or afraid. I needed neither.

Behind the fencing hall was an old storage room. I slipped inside and locked the door. Perfect. No Cassian, no Lydia, and no audience.

A pale girl in a dark academy uniform, sitting alone in a forgotten room, quietly memorizing Latin beneath a strip of cold afternoon light. Exactly the kind of image the internet liked.

My study account had grown fast. At first, I only posted short clips of my desk, my notes, and my daily revision routine. Then my face began to appear more often: a few seconds of me turning a page, a quiet smile at the camera, a tired blink over a stack of books. Now I had more than six hundred thousand followers. Most of them were women.

And just as I had guessed, the Glamour Gift did not care where affection came from. It did not need romance, and it certainly did not need a man. Admiration counted. Fondness counted. Protection counted. Even the warm, distant love of thousands of women behind a screen counted.

In her first life, she had believed the Glamour Gift could only be fed by making powerful men desire her. So she walked into their rooms. Ridiculous.

In this life, I no longer had the Scholar Gift. My mind was ordinary now. Not dull, not weak, just normal.

For now, I would use the internet. But I would not sell my face forever. A face was an opening move, not an empire. While my account grew smoothly, Lydia's grades began to shake.

That night, I heard her arguing with the Ledger in her room. "I'm supposed to be a genius," she hissed. "Why are there still questions I can't solve..."

The voice that answered her was cold and calm. "I sharpen the mind. I do not use it for you." "Learning remains the heir's responsibility," the Ledger said.

Lydia was not someone who knew how to sit still. Asking her to study was almost the same as asking her to suffer.

But after losing first place, she had no choice. She began staying up with her books open, forcing herself through texts she had once only pretended to enjoy. With the Scholar Gift supporting her, progress came quickly, and before long, she returned to the top of the year.

Our parents were delighted. Of course they were. Parents like ours loved a child who made them look successful. "Look at your sister," he said to me. "First again. And you..." "You came seventy-third in the year."

I tilted my head and smiled. "But I improved from last time. My class tutor said my grades are good enough for a decent university if I keep working,"

He did not look pleased. Mother's expression was even colder. In my first life, she had disliked Lydia once Lydia became too beautiful. She always said Lydia's beauty looked improper, as if a girl's face could be a moral failure. This time, that suspicion fell on me.

"I heard you have been close to dangerous boys," Mother said. "Students from families like the Vosses." I looked at her quietly. "Eleanor," she said, her voice sharpening, "do not shame this family." Across the table, Lydia lowered her eyes to hide her smile.

After our parents finished scolding me, she followed me into the hallway and stopped me in front of the antique mirror.

"So," she said softly, "what use is beauty now... This time, Mother and Father love me."

I looked at her reflection and felt almost tired. After dying once, how could she still care so much about something this small...

Mother and Father did not love Lydia. They had not loved me either. What they loved was the child who made them look successful.

Not everyone was lucky enough to be loved without conditions. Sometimes even a parent's love came with a price tag.

An imperfect life was still a life, and this time, I intended to own mine.