The midday bell echoed across the Academy's gothic courtyard.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the ancient, twisted oak trees, casting long shadows over the stone fountains. Students gathered in small groups, eating and gossiping.

Rosalie sat on a carved stone bench. Her fingernails dug into the fabric of her skirt.

Inside her mind, the Destiny Plunder System's virtual panel flashed with angry red warning lights.

[Target: Genevieve. Hostility Level: 0. Plunder Mechanism: FAILED.]

Rosalie ground her teeth together. The system's script required Genevieve to act like an arrogant, abusive noble. Rosalie was supposed to play the victim, trigger Genevieve's rage, and steal her luck points in front of a crowd.

But Genevieve was acting like a slippery pile of mud. She refused to fight back. The system was completely stuck.

A few feet away, a group of low-tier vampires sat on the grass, whispering loudly.

"I heard Lord Marcus threw her out of his bed," a girl with thick glasses gossiped. "The shock broke her brain."

"No way," a tall boy argued. "My cousin works at the Court. He said her pureblood core rotted. She's literally mentally regressing."

Rosalie listened to the rumors. A new plan formed in Rosalie's mind. If Genevieve wouldn't attack her naturally, Rosalie would force a public confrontation.

Rosalie stood up and walked over to the outdoor buffet tables. She picked up a small, crystal plate holding a rare, high-tier blood pudding. It smelled intoxicatingly sweet.

She arranged her features into a mask of pure, sisterly devotion. She walked toward the dark corner under the oldest oak tree, where Genevieve sat alone in the shade.

The system chimed in Rosalie's head: [If target slaps the food away, Host will gain 5 Prestige Points.]

Rosalie stopped in front of Genevieve. She held the plate out with both hands.

"Sister," Rosalie said, her voice loud enough for the gossiping students to hear. "I stood in line to get this for you. I hope it brings your strength back."

Genevieve was leaning against the tree trunk, absentmindedly pulling blades of grass from the dirt. She looked up. She stared at the pudding, then looked at Rosalie's overly eager face.

Genevieve didn't slap the plate. She didn't yell.

Instead, she snatched the plate right out of Rosalie's hands.

Without a word of thanks, Genevieve grabbed the small silver spoon and shoved a massive bite of the pudding into her mouth.

"Oh, wow," Genevieve mumbled, her mouth completely full. "This is actually good. Way better than the garbage the Court chefs make."

Rosalie's hands were still frozen in the air. Her prepared speech about being bullied died in her throat.

Genevieve scraped the plate clean in three seconds flat. She shoved the empty crystal plate back into Rosalie's hands.

"What? Is this it?" Genevieve complained loudly, making sure her voice carried across the courtyard. "Are you feeding a beggar? Go get me three more portions, and hurry up!"

Rosalie's face twitched. She gripped the empty plate so hard her knuckles turned white. She forced a stiff, painful smile.

"I'm sorry, sister," Rosalie forced the words out. "They ran out."

Genevieve's face instantly dropped. She scowled, looking at Rosalie with pure, unfiltered disgust.

"You are completely useless," Genevieve snorted, waving her hand as if shooing away a fly. "Can't even fetch a simple snack properly. Get out of my sight before you ruin my appetite further."

The students on the grass stopped talking. They stared at Rosalie, their eyes filled with weird, judging looks.

Rosalie felt her face burn with intense humiliation. She spun around and walked away fast, her posture stiff and awkward.

[WARNING!] The strange entity in her mind shrieked. [Target's behavior registers as pure greed and laziness, not aristocratic bullying! Host subservience detected. Charm Level decreased by 2 points!]

Rosalie rushed into the nearest stone bathroom. She slammed her fist into the marble sink, cracking the mirror above it.

Back under the tree, Genevieve stretched her legs out and smiled.

Her shameless tactic worked perfectly. As long as she acted like a greedy, lazy idiot without actual violent intent, the system couldn't touch her.

A shadow fell over her.

A low-tier, commoner boy stood nervously in front of her. His hands shook as he held out a cheap, plastic bottle of tomato-flavored blood drink.

Genevieve didn't hesitate. She grabbed the bottle, popped the cap, and took a drink.

"Thanks," she said casually.

The boy's face lit up with shock and joy. He bowed awkwardly and ran off.

Up on the second-floor balcony, Dorian pushed his goggles up his nose. He watched Genevieve drink the cheap tomato blood. The mystery around her just kept getting deeper.

The sharp smell of sulfur and preserved blood filled the Academy's alchemy lab.

Afternoon sunlight sliced through the wooden blinds, casting striped shadows across the metal workbenches. Dorian stood over a bubbling beaker, carefully adding drops of purple liquid into a blood fusion mixture.

Ronan, a tall combat-course vampire from an old family, leaned against the doorframe. He crossed his arms, watching Dorian work.

"I'm telling you, she's broken," Ronan said, frowning. "The Crimson Court must have tortured her. Nobody just loses their mind and acts like a clown for no reason."

Dorian didn't look up. He set his glass dropper down with a soft clink.

"You're blind, Ronan," Dorian said, his voice calm and analytical. "Her pureblood core is too dense. It isolates her. She's faking this pathetic persona to lower expectations. She's trying to blend in with the dirt."

Before Ronan could argue, a soft double-knock echoed on the frosted glass door.

Rosalie pushed the door open. The heavy scent of her floral perfume immediately clashed with the sterile smell of the lab.

She wore a soft, pastel sweater. She smiled warmly, her eyes locking onto Dorian.

The system panel in her mind glowed gold. [Target: Dorian. Genius Alchemist. High-value resource. Initiate charm protocol.]

Rosalie walked slowly toward the workbench. "Your precision is amazing, Senior Dorian," she said, her voice laced with a subtle, magical vibration meant to induce affection.

She pulled a leather-bound notebook from her bag. She stepped uncomfortably close to him, leaning over the table to point at a complex diagram of blood crystal extraction.

Dorian felt the unnatural shift in the air magic. The perfume burned his sensitive nose.

He took a smooth, deliberate step backward, completely dodging her physical proximity. He pushed his goggles up his nose and glanced at the notebook.

It was a trap question. The formula looked simple, but it required an innate, terrifying understanding of bloodline origins to solve without causing an explosion.

Dorian looked up. His eyes were flat and completely unaffected by her charm.

"This is a pureblood origin problem," Dorian said flatly. "You should ask your roommate, Genevieve."

Rosalie froze. Her sweet smile turned rigid.

"Sister Genevieve?" Rosalie repeated, her voice tight. "But... she's been so unwell lately. She can't even hold a basic spell together."

Ronan let out a sharp bark of laughter from the doorway.

"Perfect!" Ronan said, pushing off the doorframe. "This is the ultimate test. Take it to Genevieve. Let's see if she's actually brain-dead or just playing us."

Dorian nodded slowly. A spark of genuine excitement lit up his eyes.

"I agree," Dorian said, looking at Rosalie. "I am very curious to see how a pureblood handles this specific extraction variable. Go ask her."

Rosalie was trapped. The system alarms blared in her head, demanding she complete the interaction, but Dorian had completely shut her down.

She forced a nod. She grabbed her notebook, her knuckles turning white. She spun around and marched out of the lab, her heels clicking angrily against the floor tiles.

Ronan watched her go. He wrinkled his nose.

"That half-blood is exhausting," Ronan muttered.

Dorian didn't answer. He picked his dropper back up, but his mind was already miles away. He needed to know what Genevieve would do.

Across the campus, inside the dark, gothic dorm room, Genevieve lay in a woven hammock.

She had a cherry-blood lollipop shoved in her cheek. She held a trashy romance novel above her face, kicking her leg lazily over the edge of the hammock.

Suddenly, a sharp tickle hit her nose.

Genevieve sneezed violently. The hammock swung wildly.

She rubbed her nose, glaring at the ceiling. "Someone is definitely plotting against me," she muttered. She flipped the page of her book and went back to reading.

The back corner of the Academy library was dead quiet. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight that pierced the gloom.

Genevieve sat at a heavy oak table. Her cheek was pressed flat against the hard, leather cover of a massive textbook titled History of Dark Magic. She was drooling slightly, fast asleep.

Rosalie marched down the aisle, clutching her notebook. She stopped at the table. She glared at Genevieve's peaceful, sleeping face.

Rosalie slammed her knuckles onto the solid wood table.

The loud thud jolted Genevieve awake. She snapped her head up, blinking against the light. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glared at Rosalie.

"What do you want?" Genevieve snapped, her voice thick with sleep and irritation.

Rosalie forced her face into a mask of desperate humility. She pushed the open notebook right under Genevieve's nose.

"Sister, please," Rosalie begged, her voice loud enough to echo slightly. "This extraction problem is too hard. Even Senior Dorian couldn't solve it immediately. Only a pureblood genius like you could possibly know the answer."

[System Alert: Flattery Trap engaged. If target fails to answer or reacts with anger, deduct 10 Prestige Points.]

Genevieve glanced at the page. The complex runes and formulas were child's play. She had mastered this exact extraction method three centuries ago. It was an outdated, overly complicated mess.

She opened her mouth to play dumb.

But out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of movement. Behind the nearest bookshelf, a sliver of a gray lab coat was visible in the shadows.

Dorian. He was spying on her.

Genevieve's brain shifted gears instantly. If she played dumb now, Dorian would know she was faking it. He was too smart. She needed to do something so absurd it would ruin Rosalie's trap, but keep her own lazy persona intact.

Genevieve let out a massive, jaw-cracking yawn.

She reached into the pen cup on the table and pulled out a thick red marker.

Without even looking closely at the page, Genevieve slashed two massive, ugly red lines right through the center of Rosalie's perfectly written formulas.

"Just cut the heat in half and drop in some mandrake juice," Genevieve mumbled, sounding like she was talking in her sleep. "Why are you making it so complicated?"

Rosalie stared at the ruined page. The red ink bled through the paper. She thought Genevieve was just scribbling nonsense to humiliate her.

Rosalie's heart soared with vicious joy. She opened her mouth to loudly accuse Genevieve of destroying her hard work.

Behind the bookshelf, Dorian stopped breathing.

His pupils dilated to the size of coins. His genius brain instantly ran the simulation of Genevieve's casual words. Cut the heat. Add mandrake. It bypassed the entire rune structure. It was a flawless, revolutionary shortcut.

Shock hit Dorian so hard his muscles spasmed. His elbow jerked backward, slamming into the wooden shelf.

A heavy, iron-bound encyclopedia tipped over the edge and crashed onto the floor with a deafening BANG.

Genevieve jumped in her seat, faking a startled gasp. She looked toward the shelf.

Dorian stepped out of the shadows. He didn't even look embarrassed about being caught. He lunged forward, practically sprinting to the table.

Rosalie saw him and immediately put on her victim face. "Senior Dorian, look! She ruined my notes-"

Dorian ignored her completely. He snatched the notebook right out of Rosalie's hands.

He stared at the red slashes. His hands were physically shaking.

"Brilliant," Dorian whispered, his voice trembling with raw awe. He looked up at Rosalie, his eyes burning with manic excitement. "Don't you see? The mandrake stabilizes the blood core! The heat reduction prevents the magical friction! It's a perfect, elegant solution!"

Rosalie froze. The fake tears in her eyes dried up instantly. Her face turned the color of spoiled milk.

[System Error: Target Dorian's reverence for Genevieve increased by 500%. Plunder completely failed.]

Genevieve watched Dorian lose his mind over a basic trick. She rolled her eyes and let out another loud sigh.

She reached deep into the pocket of her oversized dress. Her fingers brushed against a high-tier, incredibly pure blood crystal. Thank the ancestors I had the foresight to raid the Court's secondary vault before Lord Marcus officially cut off my supply, she thought with a mental smirk. It pulsed with dark red light.

She pulled it out and tossed it onto the table. It rolled and hit Rosalie's hand.

"That's the trash leftover from the last time I did it," Genevieve said, waving her hand dismissively. "Take it and go play somewhere else. Let me sleep."

Rosalie stared at the priceless crystal sitting against her skin. The sheer condescension of the gesture burned her pride to ash. Her hands shook as she grabbed the crystal, suffocating on her own greed and humiliation.

Dorian looked at Genevieve. He saw her absolute disregard for wealth and groundbreaking knowledge.

In his mind, Genevieve wasn't a piece of trash. She was an eccentric, hidden god, casually throwing miracles at mortals.