The Price Is Your Everything - Chapter 16

The students’ gazes now turned to Nerys. She smiled faintly.

“Of course, I’ve been wondering when to bring it up.”

“Good to know,” Megara replied with a prim expression.

Diane squinted, incredulous. What misunderstanding? The intention was obvious.

It was true that Nerys had left during the Basic Magic class, but it had been for a restroom break—or so Nerys said. The class had been busy with practice, so why would anyone go out of their way to monitor what Nerys was doing?

Mrs. Graham fixed her gaze on Nerys. In her judgment, Angharad, already involved in one theft scandal, was naturally more suspicious than the ever-composed Nerys. Moreover, if Nerys were guilty, she wouldn’t seem so unaffected after being pointed out.

Still, the situation required verification. The missing bracelet was far too valuable, and if it didn’t turn up, she might have to resort to inspecting everyone’s belongings.

Mrs. Graham first locked eyes with Angharad. Tearfully watching Nerys, Angharad blinked as their eyes met, her expression one of genuine injustice.

Given the statuses of the two girls, Mrs. Graham knew who to address first. She turned to Nerys and spoke gently.

“Bring all your belongings forward, Nerys. Everyone else, close your eyes.”

Nerys obeyed. Despite her small, slender frame, she deftly carried her practice uniform and bag to the front. Mrs. Graham, who rarely had reason to interact with Nerys, found herself newly impressed.

This girl possessed an innate abundance of mana and remarkable application skills. Above all, her theoretical understanding surpassed even that of many graduating seniors. The teachers often remarked that if societal entry proved difficult due to her humble origins, Nerys could always stay on as an instructor.

“Here you go, Mrs. Graham.”

Mrs. Graham thoroughly inspected Nerys’ belongings. The bag contained textbooks for senior-level courses and some stationery—nothing else. Having also seen her empty her desk drawer, Mrs. Graham smiled reassuringly.

“Very well, you may return to your seat.”

“Yes, Mrs. Graham.”

Nerys gathered her belongings and returned to her desk. Mrs. Graham, now in a noticeably heavier tone, called for Angharad.

“Angharad, bring all your belongings forward as well. Everyone else, keep your eyes closed.”

Even with their eyes shut, the students could infer the situation from the sounds and atmosphere, which had grown unbearably tense.

Though Megara’s lips twitched slightly, no one noticed. The other students either had their eyes closed or weren’t paying attention to her.

Angharad stepped forward with only her bag, but Mrs. Graham spoke in a measured tone, taking care not to sound overly intimidating.

“All of it. Bring what’s in your desk as well.”

Angharad’s round, tear-filled eyes glimmered as she shuffled forward, clutching her belongings. Her voice quivered as she handed them over.

“I… I didn’t do it.”

Didn’t do it? While not impossible, it was unlikely.

Once class began, students without a hall pass weren’t allowed to roam the hallways, a rule enforced by patrolling dorm supervisors. That ruled out students from other classrooms.

Could it have been a servant? While both staff employed by the school and personal servants hired by students had more freedom of movement, they wouldn’t risk stealing something as distinctive as a large emerald. Smaller, easily resellable items like gold rings or silver buttons were far safer bets.

Besides, how could anyone—even with the intent to steal—know which desk held such a treasure?

“I believe you, Angharad. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake. So don’t be nervous.”

“No, really, I didn’t do it!” Angharad’s voice broke into a sob.

Mrs. Graham inspected Angharad’s belongings. Unlike Nerys’ neatly organized items, Angharad’s things revealed a mix of practical but endearing trinkets that hinted at her modest background and her father’s care in sending his only daughter far from home.

Amidst her belongings, at the bottom of her bag, something glinted in vibrant gold.

Mrs. Graham sighed as she retrieved the bracelet—just as Rhiannon had described. Angharad’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“No, no, that’s not mine! I didn’t steal it, ma’am! Why is it there? I swear I didn’t do it!”

To the keen ears of the students, her protests sounded like a confession.

Before Mrs. Graham could respond, Rhiannon’s eyes snapped open, and she gritted her teeth. Mrs. Graham let out another deep sigh.

Who else could it have been? Surely Nerys wouldn’t have stolen the bracelet and planted it in Angharad’s bag.

“For now… let’s return this to Rhiannon. Angharad, stay behind after class. Don’t go to your next lesson.”

By then, all the students had opened their eyes. Angharad stood frozen like a statue, the cold and piercing stares of her classmates fixed upon her.

Nerys narrowed her eyes as she observed Angharad’s figure.

(T/N: Serves you right mofo!)

—

The events in the freshman classroom spread across the school in no time. Throughout the day, students buzzed with talk about what Angharad Nine had done. It seemed unlikely she would recover from this scandal anytime soon.

Nerys felt both a thrill of satisfaction and a pang of nausea at herself.

It had been a petty and dark scheme against a single girl, rallying others to attack her. How was she any different from them?

But Angharad had started it.

Nerys was already preoccupied with her own dilemmas these days.

Nerys contemplated not only Cledwyn’s words but also what to do about Angharad moving forward.

In her previous life, Angharad’s actions had hurt Nerys, but there had been no evidence concerning the stolen gold coins. Perhaps it had been a misunderstanding.

Should she let it go? After all, Angharad was still just a child. In this life, her mischief had been limited to petty acts—like trembling as she sneakily hid a few spiders in a bag, clearly frightened herself.

Still, Nerys had kept her eyes on Angharad. During today’s practical class, when everyone had set aside their jewelry, she noticed Angharad staring intently at Rhiannon’s bracelet.

Angharad had tried to hide her gaze, but to Nerys—who had dealt with all manner of sly adults in her previous life—it was laughably obvious.

Suspecting something, Nerys left the classroom after Angharad returned from a break, claiming she needed to visit the restroom. When she checked her own bag, there it was: Rhiannon’s emerald bracelet.

There was no misunderstanding this time. No room for doubt. Nerys shoved the bracelet into the bottom of Angharad’s bag, where it would go unnoticed by Angharad herself but easily found during a search.

The rest unfolded as expected. Megara unsuccessfully tried to hide her displeasure, Angharad sent pleading glances for help, and the classmates showed their contempt—all exactly as planned.

Had it really been Angharad who planted the gold coins in Nerys’ belongings in her past life? That would remain a mystery forever, but the method matched.

Was it simply in Angharad’s nature to engage in bad deeds despite her timid demeanor?

But this was far from over. There were others who had committed far worse.

‘Others should suffer too, to balance things out. Otherwise, wouldn’t you feel unfairly treated, Angharad?’

Mulling over those words, Nerys returned to her dorm room, exhausted with herself. Ren, passing her in the dining hall, made a casual remark about her good fortune today. He likely meant it as a kind comment, unaware of the situation, but Nerys found it grating.

Her dorm room, at the top of a narrow staircase, was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. This small space—with its single bed, desk, and wardrobe—was now the only place where Nerys could grieve freely. She once had a secret hideaway, but that was no longer accessible.

Setting down her bag of books, Nerys sat on the bed and hugged her knees. The silence enveloped her trembling shoulders.

Ren was right. Nerys had been incredibly lucky today. If she hadn’t decided to check the classroom earlier, everything could have ended disastrously.

By returning the bracelet to its rightful owner and planting it in Angharad’s bag, the once-dead and reborn Nerys Truydd had crossed a line.

It was a line of determination—to pursue vengeance, no matter how dangerous or wicked.

“Wicked girl,” Nerys muttered, though it wasn’t clear whom the words were directed at. The accusation was aimed at too many: Angharad Nine, Megara Lykeandros, Rhiannon Berta… and, most of all, herself.

—

Northeast of Carten lay a large lake.

In spring, students flocked there to see the blossoms; in summer, to escape the heat; in autumn, to admire the foliage; and in winter, to skate on the frozen surface. The lake, with its clear water and picturesque surroundings, remained a point of pride for students even after graduation.

When the weather was fine, teachers occasionally led outdoor classes by the lakeside, as they did today.

Students attending a lakeside etiquette lesson wore woolen outerwear and blushed cheeks as soft as petals. The braver boys had already picked flowers to present to their favored girls.

“This flower matches your eyes.”

As usual, Megara had received more than three flowers before long. A boy who offered her a cornflower had clearly made an effort to find one closest to her eye color but seemed dejected when the surroundings failed to provide a perfect match.

Accepting the vaguely violet flower, Megara smiled gracefully, her picturesque eyes curving beautifully.

“Thank you, Albert. Are my eyes really such a pretty color?”

“Y-yes!” Albert Lishem stammered, delighted that Megara had taken the cornflower.

“Actually, your eyes are even prettier than this. You’re just… just….”

His voice brimmed with fervor, drawing mischievous smiles from the onlookers.

Megara was popular with everyone, regardless of gender, and no one seemed jealous. Even among girls who admired Albert’s thoughtfulness and kind demeanor, there was no resentment.

Standing beside Megara, Aidalia smiled serenely. As another marquis’ daughter, she often accompanied Megara. Though Aidalia found Megara stubborn and self-centered at times, her many virtues outweighed those flaws.

With a doll-like face and a radiant smile that seemed to brighten her surroundings, Megara’s future seemed boundless. She might even marry into a duke’s family one day.

Aidalia’s expression darkened slightly.

She didn’t care if immature boys liked Megara—it wasn’t as though they were a match for either of them. Nobles of their rank were meant to associate only with their equals.

The problem was that even those of their rank undoubtedly admired Megara.

In the Bistor Empire, while the Maindulante Archduchy stood at the pinnacle of nobility, the Elandria Ducal House was far more beloved. Maindulante was too distant, isolated in its own affairs, and lacked the legacy of being descendants of the Three Heroes.

Aside from the intimidating Crown Prince Abelus, the most eligible noble of their age was none other than Nellusion Elandria.

Aidalia feared the possibility that Nellusion might favor Megara.