WFCA 01

Chapter: 01

The new semester at Rosfield.

Students crowded in front of the large wooden bulletin board.

Sonnet waved her arms as she quickly pushed her way through the crowd.

“What the—?”

The students she shoved shot her annoyed looks.

But Sonnet ignored their stares and kept moving straight toward the board.

The first day of the new semester—the day report cards were posted.

For 500 years, Rosfield had motivated students’ academic performance in this way.

By publicly revealing everyone’s grades—a rather cruel and primitive method.

Countless names were listed in neat rows.

Sonnet swallowed hard. No matter how much she tried to steady herself, her heart pounded and her palms grew damp with sweat.

Barely suppressing her nerves, she lifted her gaze to the very top.

Please! Just this once, let my name be there.

The moment she checked—

[Aiden Rosfield]

The hope filling Sonnet’s eyes drained away in an instant.

Soon, simmering anger rose in her gaze.

‘I really thought I was first this time!’

She had studied longer than before, reviewed every wrong or confusing problem over a hundred times, and read her major textbooks until she was sick of them.

Yet her rank was the same as before.

Second place.

Veins stood out in her reddening eyes as if tears might burst forth at any moment. Her small fists trembled.

Aiden Rosfield.

A transfer student who had suddenly appeared three months ago. From the moment he arrived, he confidently took first place—and had monopolized it ever since.

Sonnet, who had never once lost the top rank before his arrival, was completely thrown off.

Of course, placing within the top five still qualified her for the Rosfield Archive Research Institute.

But the scholarship was the problem.

Second place meant only half of what first place received—and even half the tuition at prestigious Rosfield was enormous.

Even the initial enrollment fee had been far beyond what she expected, forcing Sonnet to rely on her grandmother’s help.

With the money she had saved her entire life, her grandmother paid Sonnet’s first tuition and living expenses. After that, Sonnet had fought desperately to maintain first place so she could earn a full scholarship and ease her grandmother’s burden.

Four months ago, her grandmother passed away before she could see Sonnet graduate.

Just before she closed her eyes, Sonnet had made a promise.

That she would graduate Rosfield as the top student, defeat the nobles who had looked down on her grandmother, and become the first commoner to graduate at the top.

Her grandmother had once been admitted to Rosfield herself but had been pushed down the rankings by nobles and, lacking money, never graduated.

To keep that promise, Sonnet had thought studying hard would be enough.

But there were many mandatory expenses—ancient temple field trips, research materials, document fees, exam fees. Recently, even textbook prices and food costs had risen enough to be burdensome.

Most students at this school didn’t worry about money.

Rosfield was prestigious, and many wealthy nobles attended.

In fact, her classmates didn’t even consider Sonnet a friend. They stuck together and openly looked down on her as someone beneath their level.

For a mere commoner like Sonnet to attend Rosfield was already impressive—but being first here was both her personal rebellion against them and her pride.

Since enrollment, first place had always been hers, and though the other students disliked it, they had no choice but to accept it.

But after she fell to second place, the whispers began—loud enough for her to hear.

“After all that studying, she’s only second. Like she could ever beat Aiden.”

“Well, that’s why she’s just a commoner.”

Aiden was among the group saying such things. He stood there smiling as if he agreed.

Whenever that happened, Sonnet never held back—she would march over and confront them.

At least I’m ranked higher than any of you, she would snap.

Sometimes one of them would flare up at her words and charge forward, and Aiden would put on an irritating show of stopping them.

“Isn’t she right?”

To Sonnet, those words were even more infuriating. It sounded like he was mocking her, as if it couldn’t be helped.

Just thinking about it made her fists tremble.

‘How am I supposed to take back first place?’

For a while, Sonnet had carefully observed Aiden.

In daily life, he didn’t study very hard.

Instead, he was interested in madou matches and warfare.

Madou was a sport where players rode horses and used long spears to drive a ball into the goal.

According to the girls who idolized him, during madou matches he was so dominant that he was the only one you could see on the field—leading the game boldly like a god of war.

Sonnet had nearly gagged hearing that, but regardless, Aiden always performed well in madou and was naturally very popular.

In the lecture hall, he showed none of that aggressiveness. He sat calmly, posture straight, reading books.

Not that they were lecture texts.

They were books about collecting weapons unrelated to studying, military strategy texts—only violent, stimulating books related to war.

Usually, people like that pretend not to study in front of friends and then study like mad at night.

‘I can’t exactly sneak into the boys’ dorm to interfere…’

For her promise to her grandmother—for money and for honor—she had to reclaim first place somehow.

Frowning, Sonnet glared at Aiden Rosfield’s name at the top of the list.

Just then, a sharp voice rang out nearby.

“Hailey’s grades dropped a lot.”

“She’s dating these days.”

Dating. Sonnet’s ears perked up.

She had always thought romance was just nonsense for rich kids.

A waste of time when you’re paying so much to attend a prestigious school.

The excited chatter of the female students continued.

“Kased’s been seeing a girl lately too—he dropped ten whole places.”

Sonnet quickly searched for Hailey and Kased’s names.

Rank 207. Rank 381. Not far from the bottom.

‘Do grades really drop when you date?’

Well, of course—if you waste time flirting instead of studying and reviewing.

As Sonnet turned the thought over in her head, cheers suddenly erupted.

“Waaa!”

Startled, people looked around for the source of the noise.

It wasn’t far.

A huge banner with large letters had been hung over the school’s main building.

[Celine! Until the day I die—until my bones shatter and disappear—I love you!]

Right on cue, a tense male voice rang out.

“Celine! You walked past me three times! I took that as interest—and love! Go out with me!”

Snickers and murmurs spread through the crowd.

“What’s Celine supposed to do now? She won’t even be able to come to school properly.”

“I heard she’s transferring. With that creep confessing like that, how could she stay?”

“Seriously. That’s not a confession—it’s an attack.”

The boy confessing was Petro.

At Rosfield, he was infamous as someone people preferred to avoid.

Sometimes he’d get overly loud when excited, then so quiet in class you couldn’t hear him. He barely greeted others and showed strange obsessions with things he liked.

Sonnet looked around.

Everyone wore fed-up expressions, worrying about Celine while badmouthing Petro.

The words she had just heard echoed in her head.

“…That’s not a confession—it’s an attack.”

A confession attack.

In that instant, Sonnet’s eyes lit up vividly.

At this school, Sonnet herself was known as a weirdo. Her reputation wasn’t much better than Petro’s.

After all, she cared about nothing except studying.

If—just hypothetically—she made an overbearing confession to Aiden…

First, Aiden would definitely feel uncomfortable. Someone with Sonnet’s poor reputation suddenly confessing love would be burdensome and distracting.

A smile slowly spread across Sonnet’s lips.

People at this school already didn’t like her much.

If someone like her confessed, a normal person would get fed up and transfer schools.

And if things went the way she imagined—if Aiden transferred—

Sonnet would reclaim first place.