Meihua walked through the academy grounds, releasing a weary sigh. Despite her confidence in the written exam given her unique knowledge from reading the novel, the questions had proven unexpectedly challenging. She'd even needed to draw upon information from the wiki she'd browsed in her previous life. Still, a small smile played across her lips – while difficult, she was reasonably certain she'd secured a good grade.
Her contemplative stroll came to an abrupt halt when she spotted a figure sprawled across a stone bench ahead. Curiosity piqued her interest – this area was restricted to examination candidates, so whoever this was must have finished early like her. The casual display of sleeping in such a place struck her as remarkably brazen.
As she drew closer, details began emerging that made her pulse quicken. The figure's clothing was unmistakably noble attire, and not just any noble garments – these were crafted from materials so fine they practically screamed wealth. She found herself wondering which aristocratic house would soon face embarrassment from their heir being caught in such an undignified position.
Her steps slowed as more distinctive features came into view: pale skin that seemed almost translucent, a frame so delicate it appeared almost fragile, and most strikingly, hair as pure white as fresh snow. Her heart began pounding against her ribs as realization dawned. The delicate features, peaceful in repose despite their helpless expression, and that distinctive black blindfold – there was no mistaking it. She stood before Ambrose Rothschild himself.
Meihua's head whipped around frantically, scanning for any sign of observers. Finding none, she released a shaky breath of relief. The absence of his infamous maid was particularly fortunate – she had no desire to discover what that crazy girl might do upon finding someone near her master. It was precisely this potential for violence that had convinced Meihua to avoid association with Ambrose, that and his sparse presence in the novel beyond his untimely demise at the hands of... She quickly redirected her thoughts away from that grim future.
Just as she prepared to retreat, a treacherous thought wormed its way into her mind. Was she really going to abandon such a perfect opportunity? Awakening him now could trigger an event flag, potentially opening the path to becoming a wealthy mistress. She squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed by her own wild imagination.
But when her eyes reopened, something had fundamentally changed. Her gaze fixed on Ambrose's sleeping form, twisting into something predatory. Her arm stretched out of its own accord as an unsettling giggle escaped her lips. "So pretty..." she whispered, the words carrying an obsessive edge. "I want it..." Her hand crept closer and closer to his face.
Just before contact, her eyes flashed with brilliant blue light, and she jerked to a stop. Her hands flew to her head as understanding crashed over her – she'd been caught in a [Charm] effect. Fortunately, she'd managed to break free, but the implications troubled her. Had the [Weak Body] physique already fully awakened? No, that seemed impossible this early in the timeline. More likely, his sleeping state had somehow amplified the effect.
Her mind raced even as her heart continued its frantic rhythm. Events were accelerating beyond her ability to track them, diverging wildly from her remembered plot points. She desperately wished she had awakened her mana already – at least then she'd have some means of self-defense.
The thought had barely formed when she felt cold steel press against her neck. She didn't need to look to understand her situation. Without even turning, she knew she was thoroughly, absolutely screwed.
…
"What's going on?"
"I don't know, I heard someone is fighting."
"What happened?"
"I think she attacked her young master in his sleep."
"Really?"
The fragments of conversation filtered through Ambrose's returning consciousness, growing clearer with each passing moment. His eyelids fluttered open, mind still foggy from his earlier collapse. For several seconds, he simply lay there, reorienting himself to his surroundings. "Did I pass out?" he wondered, gradually becoming aware that he was still on the same bench where he'd lost consciousness.
As his vision cleared, he noticed the crowd gathered before him – or more precisely, gathered around Hualing, who stood at its center like an avenging angel. She held a knife to Meihua's throat with unwavering precision, her usually cheerful demeanor replaced by cold professionalism.
"I'm telling the truth, I found him lying there. I didn't attack him!" Meihua pleaded, her hands raised in surrender. The tremor in her voice suggested this wasn't her first attempt at explanation.
Adelaide stood at a careful distance, trying to defuse the situation while clearly mindful of becoming collateral damage herself. "Let's calm down! Fighting on academy grounds is prohibited," she urged, making placating gestures with her hands.
Hualing's response was immediate and sharp: "I saw you trying to touch the young master, do you think I'm blind?"
"I did try but..." Meihua began, only to be cut off.
"No excuses!" Hualing shouted, the knife flashing as she moved to strike.
Time seemed to slow as Meihua watched the blade approach. Her thoughts raced with bitter irony – her second life ending before it had truly begun, and over such a misunderstanding. 'What an unreasonable brat, I didn't even touch him,' she thought, awaiting the inevitable pain.
"Stop!"
The command cut through the tension like a blade. Though soft and low, Ambrose's voice carried unmistakable authority. Hualing froze mid-strike, the knife halting inches from its target.
"Young master!" she cried, spinning toward Ambrose with outstretched arms. Her protective fury instantly transformed into joyful relief as she moved to embrace him.
Ambrose's hand shot up in desperate self-defense. "Don't touch me! I'll die," he protested weakly. It wasn't hyperbole – given his Weak Body physique, her enthusiastic embrace might well have ended the Rothschild line then and there.
Understanding dawned on Hualing's face as she caught herself, quickly dropping into a formal bow. "I apologize for disturbing the young master's sleep," she offered contritely.
Meihua, still processing her near-death experience, found her voice. "So you admit you knew he was just sleeping yet you want to kill me?" she demanded, indignation overcoming fear. "Do you think you can do whatever you want? Do you believe people will ignore how you bully others?" She turned to the crowd for support, only to find it rapidly dissolving.
"It's actually a matter involving the Rothschild heir?"
"I just remembered that I haven't yet fed my chickens and it's already noon so I'll get going now."
"Same."
"Just remembered that my wife's sister's girlfriend's uncle just gave birth so I'll be leaving."
"You have a wife?"
"Shut up!"
Within seconds, the crowd had evaporated like morning dew under a summer sun. Adelaide approached Meihua with diplomatic grace, giving her a sympathetic pat before gently suggesting she leave before matters escalated further. Meihua needed no convincing, departing with a silent vow to never again cross paths with the crazy maid.
Ambrose observed the scene with quiet resignation as Adelaide bowed and greeted him with a respectful "Master." He acknowledged her with a slight nod before accepting her assistance in standing – the practical exams would begin soon. But first, he confiscated Hualing's latest knife, adding it to his growing collection. "A backup backup maybe?" he mused, trying to convince himself that surely, this must be the last of her hidden weapons.
The look of innocent disappointment on Hualing's face did nothing to reassure him.