He frowned. "It'll be even worse if you go."

I thought for a moment and said, "We'll go together this weekend. We can start moving what we can then."

Lucas nodded.

When we arrived back at the apartment complex, a black sedan was parked at the entrance to the stairwell.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

I recognized that car.

In my past life, it was the model Caspian most frequently used.

The windows were tinted, so I couldn't see the person inside, but a sense of oppression so familiar it was ingrained in my bones instantly gripped my heart.

Lucas sensed it too, his expression turning icy as he shielded me behind him.

A few seconds later, the rear window slowly rolled down.

It was indeed Caspian.

He was leaning back in the seat, an unlit cigarette in his hand. His gaze drifted over through the night, watching us with a lazy, scattered look.

"Back already?"

He sounded as if he were waiting for two acquaintances who had returned home late.

I was paralyzed.

Lucas’s voice was heavy. "What are you doing here?"

Caspian ignored him, keeping his eyes on me.

"I told you not to think about running."

"But not only did you run, you even learned how to shake a tail with someone else."

My fingertips dug hard into my palms.

So the person following us earlier really had been one of his.

He seemed to find it all very amusing, without a hint of anger. Instead, he reached out and tapped the car door lightly, a faint smile on his face.

"Good vigilance."

"A pity you're still a bit too slow."

10

At that moment, a chill ran down my spine.

It wasn’t because I had been caught.

It was because of the expression on Caspian’s face.

He was too calm—calm to the point of being leisurely, like a hunter watching a prey attempt to flee; he wasn't in a hurry to pounce, nor was he worried about losing the trail.

In my past life, this was exactly when I feared him most.

If he was angry, manic, or cold, at least you could guess his next move. But once he started smiling and speaking slowly like this, it meant he didn't care about your struggle at all.

Lucas took a step forward, his voice hard and cold: "Stay away from her."

Caspian finally spared him a glance, as if only just remembering he was there.

"You certainly protect her well."

"But can you actually protect her?"

Lucas’s fist suddenly clenched.

My heart jumped, and I instinctively grabbed his sleeve.

We couldn't be impulsive.

Now wasn't the time for a direct confrontation.

Caspian’s family was wealthy and powerful, and Sloane was a famously influential young lady in this city. If we caused a scene downstairs, we would be the ones to suffer.

Suppressing the tightness in my throat, I spoke: "What do you actually want?"

Caspian looked at me, seemingly satisfied that I had finally initiated conversation.

"I don't want anything," he said nonchalantly. "I just came to give you a reminder."

"Stop doing things that make me unhappy."

I almost laughed at his flippant remark.

By what right?

By what right could they intervene in others' lives without hesitation, manipulate their futures and dignity, and then turn around to pose as the ones who were "offended"?

I stared at him, saying every word clearly: "Whether you are happy or not has nothing to do with us."

Lucas glanced at me, likely surprised that I would talk back so directly.

Caspian paused as well.

Then, he let out a low laugh.

"You’ve got quite the temper."

"On the rooftop earlier, I thought you were just acting tough. Now I see you really aren't afraid of crossing me."

As he spoke, he pushed open the car door and stepped out.

In the night, he was tall, possessing a natural sense of oppression when standing straight. Yet he maintained that lazy posture, like a large predator that appeared half-asleep but was ready to pounce at any second.

He walked toward us.

I instinctively took half a step back.

The movement was tiny, but he caught it anyway.

Caspian’s pace faltered, an flash of displeasure—or perhaps something else—crossing his eyes.

"Afraid of me, yet you keep provoking me."

"Do you think Lucas will always stand in front of you?"

Lucas’s voice was icy: "Take one more step and see what happens."

Caspian raised an eyebrow and actually stopped.

A moment later, he let out a click of his tongue as if losing interest, putting his hands back into his pockets.

"Fine, I won't hold it against you today."

"However, there is something I must tell you."

His gaze shifted from my face to Lucas.

"Sloane has already spoken to your homeroom teacher."

"Her family will keep a close eye on that financial aid project."

"If you don't want your little childhood sweetheart to suffer along with you, you’d better figure things out soon."

My heart sank heavily.

Even though I had a premonition, hearing it was like being seized by a crushing hand.

Mr. Sterling was clearly already under pressure.

Lucas’s face turned incredibly grim in an instant.

"Despicable."

"Despicable?" Caspian smiled. "Using that word to curse us is useless. If you really want to protect her, you need to have the ability."

He emphasized "ability" lightly, but it felt like he was grinding it into our bones.

Lucas’s back was stiff as a board.

And I suddenly realized that Caspian hadn't come tonight just to warn us.

He was provoking Lucas.

He was forcing Lucas to face the reality of his "lack of ability," pushing him toward the path Sloane had laid out.

After all, a poor, proud boy who wanted to protect the girl he loved feared nothing more than having no right to resist.

The Lucas of my past life had his spirit broken by them in exactly this way, piece by piece.

Thinking of this, the chill in my heart slowly transformed into fury.

I took half a step forward, looking Caspian straight in the eye.

"Do you think you’ve won like this?"

Caspian looked down at me, his expression playful.

I said softly, "Only people who truly lack ability rely on their families, connections, and coercion to prove they are powerful."

"You and Sloane are actually exactly the same."

The air went silent instantly.

The wind blew through the corridor, kicking up dust; it was so quiet that even the distant sound of a barking dog was clear.

The smile on Caspian’s face finally faded away.

He stared at me, his dark eyes turning cold.

"Say that again."

I knew I had spoken too harshly.

But I didn't regret it at all.

"I said," I met his gaze with a steady voice, "aside from bullying people using your status, what ability do you actually have?"

The next second, Lucas pulled me behind him.

Because Caspian had already started walking toward us.

The tension reached its breaking point.

But just then, a door slammed loudly upstairs. Someone peeked down and shouted impatiently, "What's all the noise down there in the middle of the night?"

Immediately after, lights flickered on in another unit nearby.

Old apartment complexes had poor soundproofing and were crowded; any disturbance easily alerted the neighbors.

Caspian stopped and looked up at the floors above.

A few seconds later, he suddenly laughed.

That laughter was freezing.

"Fine."

"You’ve got guts."

He backed away to the car. Before pulling the door open, he gave me one last look.

"I hope you stay this gutsy in the future."

The car door slammed shut, and the black sedan quickly drove away.

Only when the taillights vanished did my tense nerves snap, leaving my legs feeling weak.

Lucas turned to me, his brow deeply furrowed.

"You shouldn't have provoked him just now."

I nodded. "I know."

"Then why did you—"

"Because I had to let him know," I interrupted, my voice soft but clear, "that I am not someone he can just crush at will."

Lucas fell silent.

I looked at the empty night road, my palms icy cold.

I knew this would make Caspian more displeased and more dangerous.

But I knew even better that if I only showed fear and retreated, he would treat me as the puppet he manipulated in my past life.

I wanted to make him uncomfortable. I wanted him to know I wasn't a soft target.

Even if this "uncomfortability" invited his more intense attention.

Once inside, I barely slept.

The next morning, as soon as I arrived at school, Mr. Sterling called Lucas and me to the office.

Aside from him, the grade director was there too.

Seeing this setup, my heart was already half-frozen.

Sure enough, the grade director adjusted his glasses, his tone sounding amicable but leaving no room for negotiation.

"The teachers are aware of your situations and have indeed been considering you for the application."

"But recently, there have been some unpleasant rumors in the school."