Alina's contempt ran deep, simmering beneath the composed exterior she maintained.
She had known Adlet all her life—known his failures, his weaknesses, his inadequacies.
To her, he had always been nothing more than an arrogant fool, born into the prestigious bloodline yet utterly unworthy of it.
She still remembered the day he had declared, out of nowhere, that he would relinquish his right as heir to the Eastern Duchy and take self-exile from the family.
The announcement had been laughable—unnecessary.
Even if he hadn't given up the title, their father would have never appointed him as the head of the Eastern Family.
In fact, their father had despised him more than anyone.
Alina never once saw Adlet as her sibling.
To her, he was a bastard—someone who did not belong to the bloodline of Cindergarde.
His disappearance had seemed final, fitting.
Yet now, after vanishing without a trace, he had returned—strutting into the Academy not to mention even in the Aether Class.
