Xanthia and her friends were absolutely stunned by the sudden and unwelcome appearance of Andrea Tan, who had disrupted the otherwise joyous atmosphere.

  What on hell was going on now?

  The host of the birthday party, Dionysius, hadn’t even said a word yet. Who did this guest think they were, stepping in to take over without permission?

  Luciel couldn't hold back any longer and stood up in a huff, firing back at Andrea, "You seriously can’t stop, can you? Originally, this birthday party wasn’t some grand affair to begin with. Dionysius doesn’t care about presents or any of that nonsense. And yet, here you are, acting like a crazy lunatic. What’s your problem? You’ve completely ruined the fun for Xanthia, affecting her mood. Are you asking for a beating or what?!"

  Luciel had been holding her tongue for far too long. In her eyes, Xanthia was free to do as she pleased in this vil. After all, she was more than qualified to stay here, even more so than Dionysius himself.

  Elena, who had initially been keeping a low profile outside the vil, was now more vocal. At the time, she hadn’t known just how important Xanthia was to Dionysius, so she’d chosen to py it safe, avoiding trouble.

  But now, things were different. It was clear that Xanthia held a special pce in Dionysius's heart, and Elena was more than willing to earn Xanthia's favor. Thus, she chimed in, agreeing with Luciel, “Do you even realize what you’re doing? Acting out like this only makes the people behind you look bad in Dionysius’s eyes. You’re just embarrassing yourself! If you have the guts, bring whoever you need here, and we’ll deal with them!”

  Elena and Luciel, like two fearless bodyguards, unched a full-on verbal assault against Andrea, showing no hesitation. It was the courage that Xanthia’s influence gave them.

  Soon, Xanthia's other friends joined in, all of them voicing their support. They had been having such a good time—eating, drinking, pying games, taking photos, showing off on social media, living it up in every way.

  In their eyes, Xanthia’s status had been elevated to an almost elite status. Whether or not she was truly Dionysius’s “adopted sister” mattered less than the way he treated her. In fact, his attitude towards her seemed even warmer than towards Seranthalia, and that was enough to speak volumes.

  Even when Seranthalia ter pulled Dionysius aside for a private chat, it didn’t seem to affect the group’s morale. In fact, it only made them feel more secure in their position.

  Xanthia didn’t even need to speak for herself. She remained composed, enjoying her self-service barbecue, while her friends turned into loyal defenders, each adding their voice to drown out Andrea’s provocations.

  Sometimes, it had to be admitted: numbers spoke louder than reason, especially in a confrontation between women. It wasn’t about who was right or wrong—it was about who could make the most noise, who could dominate the atmosphere.

  None of them was afraid. Together, their combined strength was enough to overwhelm Andrea, who didn’t stand a chance.

  Andrea, who had approached to pledge her loyalty to Seranthalia, now found herself not even receiving a response from Xanthia. This made her look utterly ridiculous.

  The other boys, of course, wouldn’t be foolish enough to get involved in a spat between women, since they weren’t on the same level. However, their reactions were subtle.

  Some believed that Andrea was just looking for trouble. After all, the whole issue of gift-giving wasn’t even something she should concern herself with. Her attempt to defend Seranthalia was too obvious, too crude.

  Others thought that while Andrea’s actions were undoubtedly foolish, they couldn’t deny that ever since Xanthia entered the vil, her behavior had been rather impolite. Her thick skin was truly astonishing!

  Some of the more etiquette-conscious students even pced Xanthia into the “average girl” category. She was ordinary, yet somehow brimming with unearned confidence.

  Though Dionysius had a fondness for "inner beauty," that didn’t mean everyone shared the same taste.

  The clothes Xanthia wore didn’t exactly fit the high standards of the aristocratic crowd. They didn’t voice their criticisms out loud, but their disdain was palpable.

  It was clear that Seranthalia’s charm and popurity had swayed many, and they understood why Andrea felt compelled to defend her.

  However, the most absurd reaction came from Rommel El Fmei. When he noticed that Seranthalia’s eyes were slightly red, his temper exploded.

  “Dionysius... Dionysius, how could you treat my angel like this?”

  “Why are you so heartless? How could you make my angel cry?”

  Rommel, who had never dared to speak harshly to Seranthalia, now found himself imagining all kinds of distressing scenarios. He saw Dionysius treating her poorly, forcing her to serve him while he cruelly controlled her.

  Each time he pyed out these scenarios in his mind, his heart ached for Seranthalia, but at the same time, a strange sense of excitement surged within him. He couldn’t even tell whether he was upset or strangely exhirated by these thoughts.

  When Rommel saw Andrea stepping up to defend Seranthalia, his heart swelled with pride. "This new follower of Seranthalia is so loyal—how impressive!" he thought. As her "old friend," he knew he had to keep up and show his support.

  While other boys might choose to stay neutral due to Dionysius’s intimidating presence, Rommel was a warrior fighting for love!

  He had already chosen to hold his tongue when Dionysius carried out the birthday rituals earlier, but now, he was ready to make his stand.

  Just as Andrea was retreating under the pressure of Xanthia’s friends, Rommel jumped in at the crucial moment. He stepped forward and positioned himself in front of Andrea, ready to defend her.

  “Stop, stop, stop! Don’t use your numbers to bully her!” he shouted, full of righteous indignation. “Let me speak some truth here!”

  “I’m Rommel, and I’ve been friends with Dionysius and Seranthalia since middle school. They’re both old friends of mine.”

  “Seranthalia is a standard-bearer in the elite circle—her beauty and character are second to none, and her manners are impeccable. Let me be clear, Xanthia, you should put aside your biases and learn from her behavior. Otherwise, your crude actions will just make you the ughingstock of everyone.”

  “As for Dionysius, while he does have a noble air and is generous with his friends, his emotional intelligence with women is sadly cking. It leads to misunderstandings...”

  “I still must speak pinly: Don’t mistake his generosity towards everyone as anything special. Coming to someone else’s birthday party, enjoying all this expensive food, and not even bringing a gift? That’s just too much!”

  With Rommel’s “impartial words” backing her, Andrea’s confidence surged. She quietly thanked him, “Thank you. I’ll make sure to speak highly of you in front of Seranthalia. In critical moments, that’s when you really see who’s sincere.”

  Rommel beamed with pride at the praise, his heart soaring. This was exactly the kind of response he wanted.

  To win Seranthalia’s heart, Rommel had studied every trick in the book. If he could win over her “best friend,” then earning her affection would surely be much easier.

  Meanwhile, Xanthia calmly finished grilling her food, turning to her friends with a smile. “Everyone, try my cooking. I guarantee you’ll love it!”

  Then, with a casual air, she addressed Rommel, “Who said I didn’t bring a gift? Since I’m here, of course, I’ve already prepared everything.”

  Andrea immediately perked up. “Stop lying. I’ve been watching you since you arrived, and I definitely didn’t see you bring anything, let alone pce it where it belongs!”

  Rommel once again tried to py the impartial hero, saying, “If you didn’t bring one, just admit it. Honesty is a virtue, and being stubborn won’t help your case. All it does is make you look rude.”

  Xanthia had originally pnned to gift her handmade special chicken soup as a present. However, such a precious gift was something she wanted to privately make for Dionysius alone. After all, if she made him eat it in front of everyone, it would be a bit too strange—particurly if he started tearing up. That could harm the image of him.

  If the other guests saw this scene, they probably wouldn’t appreciate the seemingly pin bowl of soup she had made. Instead of thinking it was a valuable creation, they would likely mock Dionysius for being overly sentimental—after all, it was just a bowl of soup. Was it really necessary to act so exaggerated?

  Serving this to everyone at the party wouldn't work either. The gathering was supposed to be a joyous birthday celebration, but if everyone took a bite and were suddenly moved to tears, it would turn the entire party into an emotional rollercoaster.

  Such a scenario would be a little unsettling, like encountering something bizarre from a rule-based system.

  To her surprise, the chicken soup from the system had a strangely healing effect. It was like they had been spiritually enhanced. Even though the ingredients were simple, once she followed the recipe step by step, the result was magical.

  She even suspected the system was having a bit of fun.

  "Wait, what's happening? Why am I tearing up? There's this deep sense of sorrow..."

  "Ah, it's the onions! I added onions."

  It made so much sense now—onions! That was the culprit!

  Thus, the "chicken soup" could touch the deepest corners of people's hearts, and the expnation was purely metaphysical. The soup contained the provocation which stirs the longing deep within the hearts of everyone and with the system’s help, they transformed something mundane into the extraordinary.

  What Xanthia didn’t expect was that, even though she had prepared the gift privately, persistent guests were pressuring her to reveal it.

  She wasn’t worried at all, though. She had so many backup pns at this point—pulling out any one of them would deliver a satisfying comeback.

  Might as well go all out.

  Xanthia put on a nonchant smile. "Dionysius really likes music, especially cssical. I knew his birthday was coming up, so I practiced the piano in secret to surprise him. A gift made with heartfelt effort, pyed by hand, wouldn't that be more sincere than just buying something random?"

  Her statement was clearly a fabrication. Her "secret piano practice" was probably just pying rhythm games involving piano, but hey, it still boosted her piano skills. That's what "musical talent" was all about, right?

  Her piano skill, while still cking compared to her guitar proficiency, was approaching Lv2 mastery. In front of an ordinary person, it was more than enough to show off.

  To be honest, the original owner of her body had learned piano as a child, but didn't continue. Now, Xanthia was pretending to have picked it back up recently, diligently practicing for the birthday gift. This was perfectly in line with her skill level.

  The unknowing Dionysius would surely be moved by this gift—"My sister is so considerate, so gentle... I’m tearing up!"

  However, as soon as Xanthia spoke, Andrea immediately jumped in. "No way! Absolutely impossible! You're just a country bumpkin—if you can py the piano, I'll apologize on the spot!"

  At this point, Lhoraine couldn’t resist sneering. "Tch, apologize? Are you underestimating our Xanthia’s musical talent? If you could poop right here and then eat it, that would show the level of your poop king cousin!"

  Andrea was hit with a devastating roast, her face shifting between green and red. Through gritted teeth, she hissed, "Vulgar! So vulgar! As expected, you're just a bunch of disgusting girls raised by country bumpkins! I've never seen anyone as repulsive as you!"

  Chica smirked. "Your cousin, the 'poop king,' was fed his own poop in css. We’re just speaking the truth—why are you so worked up?"

  Chica, who had the time of her life today, was in full "white-siphon" mode, following Xanthia’s shameless example. Without any mental reservations, she ate the most expensive fruits and ingredients, leaving her stomach full and her heart delighted.

  She couldn't help but praise the god.

  She decided that, from now on, if anyone in css spoke ill of Xanthia behind her back, she'd be the one to stab them in the back in defense of her friend. After all, Xanthia had made Chica's day by letting her indulge—she would definitely remember this kindness.

  So, when the other girls started causing trouble, she was more than happy to stir the pot and make the situation even more intense.

  Andrea shuddered, realizing that her cousin, Matthew, had been fed his own poop in css. What kind of terrifying atmosphere was this in their css?

  Finally, Rommel spoke up. "You can say all you want, but actions speak louder than words. Xanthia, why don’t you perform for everyone right here and py a piece for Dionysius? It would be a great way to showcase your heartfelt gift and make Dionysius even prouder. "

  Though his tone was still neutral, there was an underlying skepticism in his voice.

  In Rommel’s mind, the girl in front of him clearly didn’t fit the image of a talented young dy. To him, she seemed more like an airheaded food lover, her fashion choices oddly eye-catching in all the wrong ways. A true talent, in his opinion, was someone like his angel, Seranthalia La Magenta—graceful, elegant, polite, with the air of a noble dy in everything she did.

  Rommel didn't even leave Xanthia any room to back out. He loudly decred her gift, urging everyone to encourage her to perform her carefully prepared piano piece.

  It was as if he was putting her on the spot.

  Some of the other guests remained calm, not buying into Rommel’s antics, but others followed the rhythm, cpping and cheering, making the atmosphere even more lively.

  Glen and Dematero exchanged concerned gnces. They knew that Xanthia was good at the guitar, but had no idea she had any piano skills.

  Just then, Dionysius returned from the bathroom. Seeing Rommel stirring up trouble, his expression immediately darkened.

  Though he was eager to see his sister’s gift, he trusted her enough to wait quietly for her surprise rather than rushing her. He was about to speak up to reprimand Rommel when Xanthia, unfazed, happily agreed.

  "Fine. I'll go prepare. If you want to hear me py, follow me to the music room on the lower floor... Dionysius, do you want to hear it now?"

  Xanthia was thrilled. She always loved performing in front of others, and now that the atmosphere had been set up so perfectly, she was ready to bask in the joy of it all.

  Dionysius wasn’t as concerned as Glen or Dematero. He knew his sister had pyed piano as a child. As for her current skill level... well, if she could surprise him, that meant she’d really been practicing in secret.

  If she went to such lengths to prepare a surprise for his birthday, he wouldn’t be able to resist the charm.

  "Alright, let’s hear it," he agreed.

  What no one expected was that Xanthia’s idea of "preparing" was simply heading up to the attic’s walk-in closet by herself, moving through it with ease.

  Seranthalia La Magenta, noticing this, smiled mysteriously. Pretending to head to the bathroom, she quietly followed her and, with a soft voice, asked, "Sister Xanthia, are you going to change clothes?"

  Seeing Seranthalia La Magenta's shift in attitude, Xanthia immediately realized what had happened. Dionysius must’ve shared something with her.

  Ah, Dionysius... he’s good at everything, but he’s too straightforward. He should have helped her keep her identity more secretive, adding a bit of mystery and drama to her persona. Now that Seranthalia La Magenta knew the truth, things had gotten less interesting.

  But this was just how Dionysius was—he was honest and transparent, unlike Xanthia, who liked to stir the pot and create some intrigue.

  "Yes, Seranthalia. Could you give me some advice on my outfit?" Xanthia smiled.

  "Of course, Sister," Seranthalia replied with a reserved smile.

  "By the way, I need to correct something. You should actually be younger than Dionysius, right?"

  "That's right, Sister Xanthia. A few months younger. What’s the matter?"

  "Hahaha, then you should call me 'big sister.' Dionysius didn’t tell you, did he? My birthday is actually three months earlier than his! He loves exposing my identity to his friends, but I’ll expose his too! As you can see, Dionysius’s just a little brat."

  Seranthalia La Magenta froze. "Sister...?"

  Calling someone "big sister" felt too awkward. She thought Xanthia’s petite, youthful figure should be the one calling her that instead.

  At this point, they had reached the attic. It had two walk-in closets, one for Lhoraine and one for Xanthia.

  Xanthia, having just moved out, hadn’t brought along her extravagant dresses. She had to admit, Lhoraine might not have shown her much care, but she always ordered dresses for Xanthia whenever she got one custom-made for herself.

  It wasn’t just for appearances—it seemed to be a personal habit. After all, what girl didn’t love beautiful clothes?

  Maybe she thought that giving Xanthia more clothes would brighten the life of the poor little girl.

  Sadly, the original owner of this body had rejected this goodwill, so Lhoraine had kept up the habit but stopped doing anything more.

  Xanthia, remembering what had happened, decided to take full advantage of the closet.

  Looking at the countless luxurious clothes, shoes, and handbags in the closet, she couldn’t help but marvel at the opulence. The room was bathed in golden sunlight thanks to the skylight above, and the whole pce felt incredibly vish.

  But to Xanthia and Seranthalia La Magenta, the wealth here was just a small matter. Lhoraine wasn’t around, so the closet was actually quite modest.

  Xanthia's few high-end dresses didn’t impress Seranthalia, who felt more sympathy for her now...

  Seranthalia La Magenta, still unsure of whether to call her “big sister”, "elder sister", or simply “sister," came up with a solution. “Li'l Xanthia! From now on, I’ll call you ‘Li'l Xanthia’—my little treasure, and I’ll spoil you!”

  "Li'l...?" Xanthia was stunned.