Crystal Blake sat cross-legged on the velvet carpet of her chamber, her palms resting lightly on her knees, eyes closed in deep meditation. The early morning light streamed through the stained glass, casting fragmented hues across her pale skin. Inside her core, mana surged, coiling like a dragon ready to ascend. She could feel it—the brink of breakthrough. Tier 6. She was so close she could almost taste it on her tongue.
And yet.
The thought of him crept in, like poison seeping through a crack.
Piggy brother.
That useless, chubby disgrace.
Her eyes snapped open, shards of freezing mana exploding out of her body as the entire left side of her room crystallized into jagged ice. The temperature plunged, her breath misting the air as she stood up, fists clenched, the hem of her silk nightgown fluttering in the sudden storm she'd created.
"—Tch!" she cursed aloud, slamming her hand against a nearby pillar, the marble fracturing under the impact.
It was his fault. It had to be. She was a genius—an undisputed prodigy who had been hailed since childhood as a once-in-a-century talent. She should have already broken into Tier 6 weeks ago! Instead, here she was, stagnating, losing focus... all because of the storm in her heart every time she thought about him.
And worse, that incident. That humiliation she could never forgive.
Seething, Crystal stomped toward the window, throwing it open—only to freeze at the sight outside.
There, near the stables, Laylee was laughing—laughing—as she gently helped someone onto the back of her steed. Someone with soft hair, delicate shoulders, a slender waist... a boy dressed in a loose hunter's pants that still clung scandalously well to his shapely legs.
Crystal squinted, disbelief crawling up her spine like cold fingers.
That... that was Adam?!
No. Impossible. Her piggy brother was short, squat, covered in acne and oil stains, waddling around the house like a bloated toad.
Not... this.
She watched Laylee and Adam ride off together, their silhouettes warm and intimate under the morning sun. Her stomach twisted painfully, her hands curling into trembling fists at her sides.
What the hell was going on?
+
Crystal stormed across the training field, her boots slamming against the stone path. In the distance, she caught sight of Laylee waving Adam off toward the far side of the grounds. The sunlight haloed around them—her cold, perfect sister and that insufferably smug boy who was supposed to be a disgrace, a stain, a piggy brother she could mock without consequence.
And yet now... now they looked so natural together, like siblings who had never once betrayed each other's trust.
Something twisted deep inside her chest.
She didn't even hesitate.
"Laylee!" Crystal barked, her voice slicing through the peaceful air like a blade.
Laylee turned. Her smiling face instantly cooled into a blank, indifferent stare the moment she saw who called her. A flash of irritation passed through her icy blue eyes before she schooled her expression.
"Oh, it's you, sister," Laylee said, voice polite but brittle. "What's wrong?"
The condescension. The indifference.
It was like she didn't even care.
Crystal gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached. "What's wrong? You tell me!" she snapped, jabbing a finger in the direction Adam had gone. "Since when are you and piggy brother so chummy? Laughing together like you're best friends?!"
Laylee blinked, slow and impassive, as if Crystal's rage was a dull breeze against her skin. "We went hunting," she answered calmly. "He helped."
"Helped?!" Crystal laughed, sharp and ugly. "What, did he trip and scare a monster into surrendering?"
Still, Laylee's expression didn't crack. Not even a twitch.
Instead, she stepped closer.
Without warning, the air around her shifted—simmered—as her mana flared to life, a deep, oppressive heat rolling off her body in waves. The stones beneath her boots cracked and sizzled. Birds fled from the nearby trees in frantic bursts.
Crystal instinctively flared her own mana, a sharp crack of frigid cold answering the rising heat. The clash of elements warped the air between them, distorting light, making the world around them hum with pressure.
For one tense heartbeat, neither moved.
Tier 7. Crystal realized with a cold jolt.
Her sister... Laylee was already at the peak of Tier 7.
How?
How had she grown so strong so fast?!
After a long, grinding second, they both withdrew their mana. Crystal's hands trembled as she lowered them, but she masked it by crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
Laylee stood tall, arms folded, gaze sharp and heavy. "I'll say this once," she said, voice low and cutting. "If you ever insult our brother again, I won't let it slide."
Crystal stared at her, stunned, as if she'd been physically slapped.
"You—" her voice broke from disbelief, "—you're forgiving him?! After what he did?!"
Laylee's lashes lowered, her gaze turning somewhere distant, thoughtful. "I'm not forgiving him," she said quietly. "I'm forgiving myself."
Crystal recoiled like she'd been burned.
Laylee exhaled slowly, the anger ebbing from her voice, leaving behind something heavier. Sadder. "I'm disgusted with the way I treated him. Disgusted that I judged him for being weak when all he needed was someone to guide him. Someone to believe in him."
"You're crazy," Crystal hissed, her nails digging into her arms. "You're crazy if you think that he deserves anything but scorn. He ruined our family's reputation! He humiliated us!"
"If you think appearance and mistakes from a child are enough to damn a family," Laylee said, her voice iron beneath silk, "then maybe it's not him who shamed the Blake House. Maybe it's us."
Crystal's mouth opened, but no words came out.
"You're weak," she spat finally, clinging to the only weapon she had left. "You've grown soft."
"If seeing potential where I once saw failure makes me soft," Laylee said, tilting her head, "then I'll gladly be soft." She paused, looking Crystal in the eye. "I've already made up my mind."
She turned away, her crimson cape fluttering slightly behind her in the breeze.
"If you don't believe me," she called over her shoulder, "go see for yourself. Go see what kind of man our brother is becoming. One could even call him... a prodigy."
And with that, she walked away, leaving Crystal behind—boiling, speechless, fists trembling so violently that small shards of ice began forming at her fingertips.
+
Crystal stormed down the hallways of the estate, her mind a thunderous roar.
Prodigy?!
That pig?
That disgrace?!
She didn't knock. She didn't even hesitate.
With one powerful kick, she slammed open Adam's door. "YO, LITTLE PIGGY, I'VE COME TO—!"
And then she froze.
Adam stood there, just out of the bath, his body glistening wet, wrapped only in a thin white towel that clung scandalously to his narrow hips. His skin was absurdly smooth, almost glowing under the morning light, his black hair damp and messy around his delicate, fine-boned face. His waist was tiny, his thighs plump and firm, his back arching ever so slightly as he bent to grab his clothes.
For a solid, long second, Crystal forgot how to breathe.
Her face exploded into crimson as her gaze helplessly dropped lower and lower—
—Holy crap, when did he get that waist?! When did he get those hips?!
Adam, realizing he was being stared at, let out a very undignified yelp. Without even thinking, he kicked the door shut right into her face.
SLAM!
Thrown backward into the hallway, Crystal stumbled and caught herself against the opposite wall, dazed.
She blinked once. Twice.
"Prodigy..." she muttered under her breath, cheeks still burning. She gritted her teeth in frustrated, embarrassed fury.
"Tch. If nothing else... that body's definitely prodigious."