The Darlings.

The room was a mess. The once soft glow of the string lights now cast erratic shadows across the floor, where clothes and scattered items lay forgotten. The bed, unmade, was the epicenter of chaos, its pristine white sheets now tangled and stained with blood and other body fluids. Reflecting the harsh light in stark contrast to the surrounding disarray. The walls, adorned with framed words like "sweet" and "dreams," seemed almost ironic now, their pastel colors too delicate for the dark scene in the room. 

On the bed lay two figures, separated by more than just space. A man, unconscious, sprawled out on his back, his features slack, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His clothes were in disarray, his face untouched, unaware of the devastation surrounding him. His state was one of complete disregard—of the aftermath of his actions. 

Beside him, a young girl lay curled up in a protective fetal position, her face twisted in pain. Her body was covered in bruises, the skin marred with the evidence of violence. Her eyes, bloodshot from crying, were wide open, but there was no strength left in her to escape. Her breath came in ragged sobs as her hands were pushed weakly against his chest, desperately trying to break free, to make him away, but failing. Her strength had vanished, drained by the torment she had endured. 

The stark contrast between them was undeniable. He lay unaware, a picture of unconscious privilege, while she remained a victim, trapped in a nightmare that left her vulnerable and broken. The room told the story of everything that had happened here, the quiet aftermath of an assault—one that would speak volumes to anyone who entered. 

The door creaked open, and a young girl stepped into the room. Her silver hair shimmered in the dim light, contrasting sharply with the dark blue of her eyes, eyes that widened in horror as she took in the scene before her. The room was a chaotic mess, the walls lined with flickering lights now casting eerie shadows over the wreckage. 

She froze at the sight. Her voice caught in her throat, the weight of what she was witnessing sinking into her chest. Her body trembled, and her breath came in shallow gasps as her eyes flicked between the two figures on the bed. The man, still unconscious, lay sprawled with an unnerving ease, his face calm in stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him. And then there was Susan, her once bright face now bruised and battered, her body curled in a defensive position as though trying to shield herself from the world. 

A scream rose in the girl's chest, but it died before it could break free. It took every ounce of strength to shout, and as she tried, her legs gave out beneath her. She collapsed to the floor with a soft thud, her hands trembling as they pressed against the cold ground. 

 The commotion she caused didn't go unnoticed. The sound of her fall echoed in the hallway, and within moments, a crowd of nearly fifty students surrounded the door. They stood in frozen silence, their eyes wide with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

The silver-haired girl, struggling to regain her balance, finally stood. Her legs wobbled, but she forced herself to move toward Susan. A long cloth lay on the floor nearby, discarded in the chaos. She grabbed it, wrapping it gently around Susan's bruised body, covering her with an almost reverent care. She leaned closer, her voice shaky but filled with concern, 

"Su...san... are you okay?" 

At the sound of her name, Susan's tear-streaked face lifted, her eyes blurry and unfocused at first. Then, they landed on the silver-haired girl, and recognition sparked in her gaze. The floodgates broke. Susan's cries grew uncontrollable, the sobs wrenching from deep within her, a mixture of pain and relief. Her hand reached out, but her body trembled, too weak to reach the girl who was trying to help her. 

As Susan's sobs filled the room, a new presence entered the scene. A woman, brown-haired and in her early late twenties, stepped through the door. Her eyes quickly assessed the situation, her shock giving way to a grim understanding. She glanced down at Susan, her face hardening as she took in the brutality of the scene. Then, her gaze shifted to the man still lying on the bed, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The woman's eyes darkened, her lips pressed into a thin line. Without a word, she turned and stepped toward him, her resolve firming with every step. Whoever he was—no matter his status or lineage—he would pay for what he had done. 

"...Miss Angelica, I will take Susan to the infirmary," the silver-haired girl stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She forced herself to compose, but her body still trembled from the horror she had witnessed. With one last look at the room, she turned and left, supporting Susan as they stumbled out.

As the door closed behind them, the room fell into a heavy silence. The sobs that had once filled the space were now extinguished, leaving only an eerie stillness in their wake. The tension in the air thickened, oppressive, and undeniable. Every student present could feel it—the raw fury emanating from Angelica, whose presence alone could command the room.

Angelica stood at the center, her figure radiating an icy calm that only heightened the storm of anger within her. A woman who had risen from the lowest of ranks, from a mere commoner to an S+ rank, soon to be SS rank. was not one whose wrath could be taken lightly. Her power had earned her respect, No one in there doubted that Angelica's wrath would be swift and absolute. The man lying unconscious on the bed, oblivious to the wrath he had invited, was about to experience the full force of a woman who had long been accustomed to ruling her own destiny. No title, no bloodline, and no family standing could protect him now. 

Angelica yanked the boy's hair so violently that every student outside the room gasped. The sharp, sudden movement froze them in place, their eyes wide with a mix of shock and anticipation. But as Angelica dragged him upright, The boy, now fully upright, knelt before them. Angelica's fury, once explosive, shifted into confusion, then disbelief as she recognized him. She and everyone in the room knows who this young boy is he is one of the top academy applicants and more importantly the heir of Solarius house'

" Aaron Solarius "