The guy who had so graciously invited himself over was tall, broad-shouldered, and had the kind of smirk that screamed, I think I'm better than you, and I will make sure you know it.
Surprisingly, his uniform was pristine, his blond hair was styled just right, but his posture reeked of arrogance.
In short, he was the rich young master type.
Wonderful.
Behind him were two other students—his personal entourage, no doubt.
One had a lanky build and a face that screamed lackey, while the other was a stockier guy who looked like his primary role in life was standing behind the rich kid and nodding at everything he said.
Come on dude, have more self-respect.
Aeron, to his credit, didn't immediately brush them off. Instead, he maintained his usual friendly demeanor. "Uh, sure, I guess?"
Rich Young Master smirked wider. "Good, good. It's been a while since we last had lunch together, hasn't it?"
I highly doubted Aeron ever had lunch with this guy willingly.
Still, the protagonist had that typical nice guy energy, so he simply smiled and didn't object.
Emilia, on the other hand, had yet to say a word. Her expression remained polite but distant as if she had already classified this guy as a minor inconvenience.
Smart girl.
I, of course, said nothing. Because if I had learned anything from cliché school settings, it was that speaking up in situations like this would only get me unnecessarily involved.
Unfortunately, that decision was taken from me when Rich Young Master turned his attention toward our side of the table.
"So," he drawled, his gaze sweeping over me like I was a particularly unremarkable piece of furniture. "You must be the other transfer student."
I met his stare evenly. "Amaniel."
Aman is probably short version of Amaniel. So I went with my possible real name.
"Amaniel," he repeated, as if testing how the name tasted. "Right. Haven't seen you around before."
"You wouldn't have," I replied simply.
Aeron let out a nervous chuckle. "Ahaha… Aman's new, so he's still getting used to everything."
Rich Young Master hummed. "Is that so?"
There was a moment of silence as he studied me.
I stared back, resisting the urge to sigh.
I already knew how this worked. He was sizing me up, trying to decide whether I was worth his attention or if he could just dismiss me as background noise.
I was hoping for the latter.
Unfortunately, fate hated me.
"You don't talk much, do you?" he mused, leaning back slightly.
"I talk when I need to."
Aeron shot me a please don't antagonize him look.
I wasn't.
If anything, I was being mercifully restrained.
But of course, guys like this? They thrived on unnecessary conflict. They are the rich young masters for nothing after all.
The blonde rich Young Master let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "I see, I see. You're the quiet and mysterious type, huh? No offense, but that usually doesn't work out too well around here."
I took another sip of water. "Good thing I'm not trying to impress anyone, then."
That caught him off guard for a split second.
Then he laughed, genuinely amused. "Hah! You've got some guts, I'll give you that."
I wasn't trying to be gutsy.
I just wanted to eat my damn lunch in peace.
If I knew I would be involved in so much drama, I wouldn't have come at all.
Livia, who had been uncharacteristically silent until now, finally decided to intervene. "Alright, alright, enough with the staring contest," she said, her usual cheerfulness returning. "We came here to eat, not to throw around weird tension."
Bless you, Livia. You are finally being useful for once since I have known you.
Rich Young Master smirked again but let it go, turning his attention back to Aeron. "Fine, fine. Let's eat."
I guess he caught both Livia and Emilia staring at Aeron. Poor protagonist, already getting marked.
Anyway, just like that, the conversation shifted, and I was once again successfully ignored.
Perfect.
I tuned out most of the chatter, letting Aeron and Livia deal with it while I focused on my meal.
Everything seemed to settle down… until Rich Young Master spoke again.
"So, Emilia," he said smoothly, "I was wondering—will you be attending the upcoming academy ball?"
I paused mid-bite.
Oh no.
Not another one.
Emilia's polite smile didn't waver, but there was a distinct coolness in her tone as she replied, "I haven't decided yet."
Rich Young Master's smirk widened. "I think you should. After all, it's a great place to meet people. And, well, I wouldn't mind being your escort for the evening."
Ah. There it was.
The public and painfully awkward invitation.
Aeron subtly stiffened, and Livia's expression darkened just a little.
I, on the other hand, was just mentally preparing myself for the inevitable secondhand embarrassment that was about to unfold.
As if on cue, Emilia tilted her head slightly, her polite smile still firmly in place. "That's quite the generous offer," she said, her tone so neutral it was impossible to tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic.
Rich Young Master, oblivious to any potential rejection, leaned forward slightly. "Of course. I believe an event like this deserves to be attended with the best possible company."
I resisted the urge to groan.
Dude. Seriously?
I had seen enough of these types in my memories - or rather, in all the cringe-worthy novels I'd knew—to know exactly how this was going to go.
Step one: Arrogant noble guy confidently invites the heroine to a ball.
Step two: The heroine declines in the most diplomatic way possible.
Step three: Rich Young Master refuses to take the hint and continues pressing the issue.
Step four: Either the protagonist steps in, or the heroine delivers a cutting remark that puts him in his place.
Honestly, I was hoping for the immediate step four.
Emilia, ever the graceful one, simply let out a soft hum before setting down her fork. "I appreciate the invitation, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline."
Step two: Complete.
Livia gave an approving nod. Aeron, though still tense, seemed relieved that Emilia had handled it with minimal conflict.
Rich Young Master, on the other hand, looked like someone had just told him the sky was green.
He blinked, as if the concept of rejection was so foreign to him that his brain refused to process it. "Oh? And why is that?"
Here we go…