"Ah! I forgot to do my laundry!"
Adele flung open her wardrobe, her face scrunching in despair. "I haven't done any washing in days. Lois—"
"Don't even think about it," Lois cut in with a smirk. "Blame your own laziness. My clothes are tailored to fit me. If you stretch them out, especially around the chest, they'll never be the same. Ask Sonia instead."
Inglit, fresh from her shower, casually offered, "I've got some loose-fitting clothes, but I'm taller than you. The sleeves might not work."
Adele turned to Sonia with hopeful puppy-dog eyes. "Sonia…"
Out of everyone in the room, Sonia was the closest to Adele in size. Knowing there was no dodging this, Sonia scrambled for an excuse. She didn't like lending her clothes out to anyone.
"No. I don't wear other people's clothes, and I don't want anyone wearing mine."
Lois and Inglit exchanged a look, their expressions unreadable.
Adele blinked in confusion but had no choice but to borrow from Inglit. Inglit's shirt, however, fit Adele so loosely it looked more like a dress.
The four roommates had a shared class that morning, so they headed out together for breakfast at the cafeteria.
Halfway there, a male voice called out, "Sonia!"
Turning, they saw a handsome blond man approaching. Lois' expression immediately darkened.
The man was Meloway, who had once pursued Lois. Thinking he was both good-looking and from a noble family, she had graciously allowed him to court her. But after Sonia threw a few coquettish glances his way, Meloway switched allegiances, humiliating Lois in front of her friends.
"Good morning, Meloway," Sonia greeted, her tone light.
"Good morning, Sonia," Meloway replied enthusiastically. "Ever since you transferred to the Sword Arts Department, I've hardly seen you. What a coincidence today! How about dinner tonight? It's seafood season—do you prefer Golden Coast or Anglerfish Elegance?"
Lois couldn't help sneering internally. As if Sonia would be interested in him now. After all, Sonia had turned down Felix, so Meloway wouldn't even register. His sudden forwardness probably had more to do with family pressure. As a research apprentice to Professor Trolzan and someone with a victory over Leoni, Sonia's potential as a future Saint Domain Swordmaster was evident.
To mid-tier noble families like Meloway's, a three-winged mage was a game-changing ally. Even if Meloway's interest had started with Sonia's beauty, it was now undoubtedly fueled by ambition.
Lois was certain Sonia would refuse. The only question was how. Would she take the opportunity to throw some backhanded remarks at Lois? Their relationship hadn't warmed enough to rule that out.
"No, I have training. No time," Sonia said curtly.
"You're so diligent. But relaxation is part of good training. If seafood doesn't excite you, we could—"
"I don't think having dinner with you would be relaxing."
Meloway's face froze. He muttered a quick, "Sorry to bother you," before retreating hastily.
Sonia walked on but soon noticed her roommates weren't following. They stood behind her, exchanging meaningful glances.
"What's up?" Sonia asked, puzzled.
"Nothing," Lois replied, suppressing a strange smile.
The four arrived at the lecture hall. As they passed, classmates greeted them warmly. Sonia's recent exploits only added to her reputation, but even before that, she and Lois had always been eye-catching figures on campus. Wherever they went, attention followed.
Lois returned the greetings with practiced charm, while Sonia merely nodded, offering no words. This contrast made the other three feel increasingly unsettled.
As they took their seats, Adele suddenly turned pale. "Oh no! I forgot to write my essay! It's due this class!"
Inglit couldn't resist a laugh. "You're screwed."
This was Contemporary History of the Stars, taught by Professor Wesley, a rigid and notoriously strict scholar in his sixties. Random attendance checks were common, and unfinished essays meant an automatic fail, likely leading to a mandatory retake.
Sure enough, as soon as the white-haired professor strode in, he issued his dreaded command: "Place your essays on the podium for immediate review."
With a flick of his fingers, a single-winged scholar spirit floated above the desk. Despite its humble rank, this "Checker" spirit was a student's worst nightmare. Properly configured, it could instantly evaluate essays for quality and originality. When linked to the campus database, it could even run plagiarism checks.
One by one, students submitted their work. The spirit tapped each essay, marking them green for pass, yellow for potential plagiarism, and red for serious copying.
Professor Wesley sat silently, his sharp eyes fixed on the class. When a student failed to submit an essay, he let out a disapproving snort and jotted down their name.
When it was Adele's turn, she walked up empty-handed, her wide eyes brimming with faux sincerity.
"Professor Wesley, I fell asleep while writing last night, so I didn't finish. Could I turn it in next week instead?"
Wesley glanced at her briefly. "If your essay next week has over 10% plagiarism, your participation grade will be an automatic fail."
"Okay, thanks!" Adele chirped, skipping back to her seat as if nothing had happened.
Next up was Sonia. She also approached the podium empty-handed. Wesley's demeanor softened noticeably.
"You didn't write it?" he asked.
"No, I didn't."
"Why not? Was it your heavy training schedule? I heard Professor Trolzan often gives you extra lessons. While developing your magical disciplines is important, you mustn't neglect your cultural education."
The rest of the class seethed with envy. Seriously? They were guaranteed to lose marks for missing the essay, but Sonia had Trolzan as her backer. Wesley was practically making excuses for her. If she played along, he might even waive the assignment entirely.
"I couldn't be bothered to write it," Sonia said.
The room fell deathly silent.
Wesley's face twisted in disbelief. "What did you just say?"
Sonia, sensing the odd atmosphere, almost repeated herself but paused.
Wait. Isn't this where I'm supposed to ride Trolzan's coattails, praise Wesley, and get out of writing the essay?
"I…" Sonia hesitated, then doubled down. "I couldn't be bothered to waste time on such meaningless work."
Wesley's face darkened, his rage barely contained. Around them, classmates stifled laughter, their expressions torn between awe and disbelief.
At that moment, Sonia finally understood the nature of her summoning ritual for "Sincerity."
Observer, meeting you has been the worst luck of my life!