The Villainess Should NOT Outshine the Main Protagonist!

Chapter 8: Finally Some Respect?

Weeks following the audience with the king, I had become pretty popular at the academy. Guys offered treats, akin to bribing a pet, while girls initiated small talk, perhaps hoping to align politically through friendship. Their attempts, transparent and shallow, were politely declined.

The prince's apology was perhaps the most startling development. The brief encounter, lacking any real warmth or sincerity, was nonetheless significant. It was clear he had been royally scolded for his actions. I couldn't help but smirk at the thought of the prince, usually so high and mighty, being taken down a notch in the privacy of the royal chambers.

What hadn't changed though was Lydian's view of me. She would still get scared and dart away whenever our paths crossed, her eyes wide with an unspoken fear. It left me wondering about the root of her apprehension. Was it simply our stark level differences, or something deeper?

Amidst these thoughts, I found myself on a secluded bench, the crisp texture of a note pressed between my fingers. The message was clearly a love confession, etched in a trembling, uncertain script. Unfortunately for the sender, I already had my lines ready to reject.

As the meeting time approached, the sound of footsteps broke the quiet. A boy from my year emerged from the dappled light, his movements hesitant yet determined. Stopping a few feet away, he took a deep breath before meeting my gaze.

"Evelyn," he began, his voice trembling, "I... I want you to be my girlfriend!"

I braced myself for the inevitable dismissal.

"Umm, listen—" I began, but he barreled on, cutting me off.

"Before I get your answer though, let me explain something. If you become my wife, we can rule the nation. You could leave all that political nonsense to me, while you be a housewife and bear my kids!"

"Uh—no. Just... no," I interrupted, my patience thinning. The audacity of his proposal left me momentarily speechless. "And secondly, do you even hear yourself? My aspirations go beyond being a housewife.

He stood there, flustered, the confidence draining from his stance. "I... I thought," he stammered, unable to finish his sentence.

"You thought wrong," I said firmly, standing up from the bench. "My goals, my magic, my life—they're not tools to be used for someone else's ambition, especially not in the way you're suggesting."

"Hear me out though, it's not a bad deal. You'll get to be my wife even though you have black hair... I'll even buy you all the dresses and jewelry you could want. Isn't that all noble women want these days?

"Is that really what you think?" I asked, incredulous, pausing in my departure. The shallowness of his perspective was baffling. "You believe material possessions can substitute for personal ambition, freedom, or happiness?"

He faltered, confusion and realization crossing his face in quick succession. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"That's exactly how I put it," I clarified, my tone softening. "Look, I appreciate that you... have a certain view of how things might be, but it's not for me. My ambitions are not for sale, nor are they up for negotiation."

I could see the gears turning in his head, perhaps reevaluating his approach. It was time for me to deliver the final blow.

"Listen, my interest is only in those who are physically stronger than me." This line, a foolproof method, never failed to make an impact.

His eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by my straightforwardness. "Physically stronger? But... I thought—"

"You thought this, you thought that, Is thinking hard for you? Because it seems like you haven't put much thought into what you've said so far," I retorted, not unkindly but firmly enough to make my point clear.