Kurogane Ikki: "Another one!"

The dim LED light in the abandoned manor flickered, casting ghostly shadows over the peeling wallpaper and warped wooden floors. The air was stale, thick with dust and neglect, the scent of forgotten things hanging heavy.

This place had once been a proper estate—now, it was a graveyard for the unwanted. A convenient place for the Kurogane family to hide its failures.

Sanae leaned against the cracked windowsill, the blue glow of her phone screen reflecting in her eyes as she absently scrolled through the news. Nothing but the usual headlines. Another Blazer prodigy had been accepted into the elite academy. Another rich heir flaunting their connections. Another reminder that people like her were always at the bottom.

She wasn't even looking at the F-rank brat in the crib anymore. Why bother?

Reika, on the other hand, hadn't stopped watching him.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of her uniform, eyes locked onto the tiny child lying quietly in the crib.

Then she said it.

"He caught the ball."

It wasn't loud. It wasn't accusatory or panicked, but there was something in her voice—a strange unease, like she was watching something that shouldn't be happening.

Sanae barely glanced at her. "So what?" She scoffed, flicking through another useless article. "He's still a failure. Don't start acting like he's some kind of miracle."

Reika hesitated. "But… what if we were wrong?"

That made Sanae's fingers still.

"What if?" Her tone was sharp, clipped, her sneer tightening. She turned to glare at Reika. "Are you seriously feeling bad for him now?"

Reika shifted uncomfortably. She looked down at her hands. She wasn't sure.

"He's still just a child," she muttered.

Sanae laughed, but it was hollow, bitter, like glass scraping against stone.

"You think they ever cared about kids like us?" She locked her phone and tossed it onto the couch. "You think Blazers give a damn when we're the ones getting left behind? When we're the ones fighting for scraps while they get everything handed to them?"

Reika flinched but said nothing.

Sanae leaned back, folding her arms. Her nails dug into her skin.

"They look at us like we're less than human," she muttered. "Like we don't even exist in the same world."

She exhaled sharply, running her fingers over a faint, jagged scar on her wrist—a wound from years past.

Then, she said something that made Reika tense.

"My brother."

Her voice wasn't as sharp as before. It was low, quiet, like she didn't want to say it at all.

Reika frowned. "I thought you didn't have any family."

Sanae scoffed. "I don't." Her jaw tightened. "Not anymore."

Reika stayed silent.

Then, Sanae spoke again, and this time, there was something darker in her tone.

"He worked his ass off to get into university—without magic. He was smart, way smarter than those elite Blazer brats. He thought… he thought if he just worked harder, if he was better, he could make it." She let out a sharp exhale, shaking her head. "Stupid, right?"

Reika's throat felt dry. "What happened?"

Sanae clenched her fists.

"One of the Blazer students got caught cheating on an exam." She paused, her next words laced with poison. "He was from the Kamazatsuri family."

Reika visibly tensed.

The Kamazatsuri family. One of the oldest Blazer bloodlines in Japan. Their influence stretched across generations, their power solidified not just by talent but by wealth, connections, and control.

If someone from that family got caught in a scandal…

Sanae's lips curled in disgust.

"Guess who they blamed?"

Reika already knew the answer.

"They dragged my brother through the mud, called him a liar, a manipulator—said he was jealous of 'true talent' and planted evidence to frame an innocent student." She laughed dryly, but it sounded more like choking.

"No school would take him. No company would hire him. His entire future was gone overnight."

A heavy silence wrapped around them, suffocating.

Reika shifted on her feet, hugging her arms to herself. "But… Ikki is just a baby. He hasn't—"

"He's one of them."

Sanae's voice was flat, final, filled with undeniable certainty.

"I don't care that he's F-rank. I don't care that he's weaker than the rest. He's still a Blazer, still part of that world. And one day, he'll learn to look down on us, too."

Reika lowered her gaze, conflicted.

They weren't good people, and they both knew that. But years of resentment, fear, and bitterness had twisted them.

It was easier to be cruel than to let go.

Sanae exhaled sharply, pushing herself off the windowsill. "Come on. Let's get this over with. We still have to waste another day taking care of him tomorrow."

Reika hesitated, then nodded stiffly.