Seranthalia La Magenta truly had little understanding of Dionysius’s family background.

  Her fondness for him stemmed rgely from the buzz created by peers in their social circle. Of course, she could never forget the junior high school ga where she performed alongside Dionysius. His piano accompaniment had made her the star of the event, and ever since, everyone insisted they made a perfect pair. Over time, she found herself agreeing with them.

  But after all, she was only in her first year of high school.

  For a young girl in junior or senior high, budding feelings for a peer rarely involve delving into the nuances of their family life. Even in college, romances often stayed blissfully na?ve and unconcerned with such considerations. That simplicity is what makes student love stories so pure.

  Being a reserved young dy of high social standing, Seranthalia would never pry into Dionysius’s personal details or show overt curiosity in front of him and his friends. Investigating him through family channels? That was out of the question. Not only would it be excessive for a retionship still in its infancy, but it would also tarnish her image as a cultured, well-bred young dy.

  Raised with impeccable manners, she was the model daughter of a prominent family, someone who never strayed from the path of decorum.

  Even Andrea Tan, who accompanied Seranthalia to Dionysius’s birthday party, was in the dark about her intentions. She assumed Dionysius was just another suitor.

  For a girl like Seranthalia, no matter how much she liked someone, she would never be the one to initiate contact. She preferred to drop subtle hints, leaving the pursuit to the other party. Her upbringing had drilled into her the belief that a girl who acted too forward risked losing her dignity. Who wouldn’t blush at the feeling of being the center of attention?

  It was no surprise that Seranthalia had her fair share of admirers. Without even trying, she found herself surrounded by boys eager to gain her favor. Among them, Rommel El Fmei—nicknamed “Quack quack” for his persistent antics—stood out as the most zealous.

  Rommel was the one who had mbasted Dionysius in a message group for allegedly disrespecting Seranthalia and had followed it up with an offer to treat her in Dionysius’s stead. Despite his efforts, neither Dionysius nor Seranthalia paid him any attention. That gathering had ultimately been canceled due to Dionysius’s absence. As for what Dionysius had been up to that day, only Xanthia, Marcus, and a few others could say for sure.

  Even now, though her heart ached, Seranthalia maintained her composure as the dignified young dy she was. She harbored genuine feelings for Dionysius, feelings that had only deepened with their prolonged separation after attending different high schools.

  People often think only boys carry a torch for a “first love.” Girls, too, have their own “crush”—a romanticized figure untouched by fws.

  Ironically, her limited understanding of Dionysius worked against her. His deliberate aloofness and maintained distance only enhanced her perception of him, casting him in an ever more perfect light. That cherished memory of the school ga became a pedestal upon which her imagination pced him, turning him into her idealized "husband".

  The less she knew, the stronger her filter became, her mind painting him as fwless—just as Dematero had once fantasized about Elena.

  But now, Seranthalia was eager to see Dionysius and get some answers. Who was this Xanthia, and why did her presence feel like a thorn in her heart? She couldn’t suppress the frustration.

  Of course, direct confrontation was out of the question. She wasn’t Dionysius’s official girlfriend. Her poise and upbringing dictated that she inquire indirectly, dropping carefully crafted hints.

  She might not have mastered the art of subtlety, but she understood the basics of restraint. Acting too harshly might repel Dionysius, inadvertently pushing him closer to the “suspected rival.” That would be a disaster.

  ...

  Under the guidance of Issa La Gozen and Xanthia, the group finally entered the vil.

  Aunt Issa was in an exceptionally good mood today. She had always been deeply attached to Xanthia, but her joy had been overshadowed by the original Xanthia’s severe depression and withdrawal from the world. Helpless to ease her pain, Issa had watched the girl retreat into a shell.

  Now, the vibrant and cheerful Xanthia before her was a sight for sore eyes, exuding positivity. Issa silently praised Dionysius for his honesty. He had assured her of Xanthia’s improved state, though she had harbored doubts. Seeing it firsthand eased her concerns.

  Issa’s instinct was to catch up with Xanthia, basking in her renewed energy. However, her social graces kept her from neglecting the other guests. Though she greeted them with courtesy, it was evident to anyone observant that her warm enthusiasm for Xanthia was of a different caliber altogether.

  This preferential treatment added another yer of discomfort for Seranthalia.

  Accustomed to being the star wherever she went—especially in Dionysius’s circle—she now found herself outshone. To witness even the vil’s head caretaker treating Xanthia with deference, as though addressing the future dy of the house, was a bitter pill to swallow.

  This couldn’t be happening. The “suspected rival” was this far ahead already? Seranthalia thought bitterly. It was supposed to be me...

  Me? Who am I kidding? The original Xanthia had carried Dionysius’s burdens since childhood. That connection ran far deeper than Seranthalia could imagine.

  To her growing frustration, Issa leaned close to Xanthia after addressing the other guests, seemingly to report something.

  Unable to hear the conversation, Seranthalia gged behind, stewing in her irritation. One thing was clear—Xanthia wasn’t just a passing guest here.

  Indeed, Issa was briefing Xanthia on household matters. The sprawling vil wasn’t maintained by her alone; other staff members, including temporary cleaners and maids, pyed supporting roles. Among them, some “maids” were really Demetrios’s outlets for his indulgent escapades—indiscretions Eleanor turned a blind eye to.

  Issa even suggested gathering unfamiliar staff for a formal introduction to the “returning heiress.” Xanthia politely declined. She had no pns to move back in and saw no reason for grand gestures.

  The vil’s interiors were breathtaking—a harmonious blend of modern minimalism and understated luxury. The furniture, though appearing ordinary at first gnce, boasted extraordinary quality, such as Dals calfskin leather unmarred by mosquito bites.

  Even with the original Xanthia’s memories, the firsthand experience left Xanthia amazed. Her former life as a struggling office worker offered little exposure to such extravagance, but she masked her awe seamlessly. She was now the true family heiress, armed with fwless recall of her past and an ease that impressed even the most discerning.

  Xanthia had come into her own, embracing a carefree and joyous existence while cleverly turning adversaries into her source of entertainment.

  Issa eventually ushered them into the vil’s grand central living room, decorated for the celebration. Balloons filled the space, and a pile of gifts awaited the birthday boy. The id-back afternoon party suited Dionysius’s busy schedule—he had to return to boarding school by evening for study hall.

  Inside, the scene was lively. Most attendees were male, a testament to Dionysius’s reputation for steering clear of female admirers. Some guests dressed to the nines, while others sported casual attire, including a few in school uniforms.

  Dionysius stood at the center of it all, his gentle smile as warm as spring sunshine.

  Though the guest list skewed heavily male, it wasn’t out of gender bias. Female guests often crossed boundaries or sought his attention for ulterior motives, ruining the rexed atmosphere. Parties with mostly male attendees were simply more enjoyable, even accommodating gaming sessions ter.

  Seranthalia had earned her pce here by being tasteful and restrained—qualities that set her apart. Yet now, even she felt the sting of another surpassing her.

  Dionysius had to admit—Seranthalia possessed both beauty, behavior and talent. Definitely one that could easily won the hearts of many. Yet, despite acknowledging her charms, he wasn’t the type to succumb to romantic whims. Instead, his mindset was firmly entrenched in what could only be described as a “commander’s brain”—the kind that treated life like a strategy game. To him, Seranthalia wasn’t a potential romantic partner but rather a subordinate worth recruiting to his cause.

  In Dionysius’s eyes, Seranthalia wasn’t much different from Glen or Dematero—two indispensable comrades who had already earned their pces as his “right-hand allies.” The thought was amusing, even absurd, but it was quintessentially Dionysius. This was the heir mindset in action.

  Dionysius’s world view seemed to revolve around treating Earth Online as a massive real-life strategy game. Women, in his opinion, weren’t romantic interests but rather candidates for positions in his ever-expanding virtual court. They were allies to be developed, not lovers to be wooed.

  “Dionysius! Miss Seranthalia La Magenta has arrived! Why aren’t you going out to greet her? Hurry up!”

  Rommel’s voice rang out, tinged with urgency and disbelief. The moment Seranthalia entered the scene, his eyes had practically glued themselves to her. Naturally, his first instinct was to report her arrival to Dionysius and nudge him into action. To Rommel, Seranthalia wasn’t just any girl—she was an angel.

  Dionysius, however, merely shifted his gaze briefly in Rommel’s direction, his attention otherwise fixed on Xanthia. “Why don’t you go?” he asked, the question slipping out with an air of disinterest.

  “She’d be much happier to see you,” Rommel replied with a toothy grin, practically begging. “Come on, do me this favor. Just go greet her, would you?”