The vampires in the hall stand frozen, as if every one of them mirrors Harold Wang’s shock. Some stumble backward, eyes wide, staring at Rose not merely as an enemy but as something terrifying—a monster out of legend. Others glance between the withered corpse on the floor and the girl standing calmly before it, too afraid to move. Harold’s disbelief curdles slowly, darkening into something far hotter. Rage. Pure, unmasked, burning rage.
“What are you?” Harold growls, the words tearing from his throat.
Rose meets his gaze steadily, unflinching before his fury.
“You want answers?” She lifts her chin. “This is the answer. This is exactly who you are dealing with.”
For a moment, no one moves. No one speaks.
“Repent,” Rose says clearly. “Stop this madness. End the lies. And we can stop this right now.”
Harold throws his head back and laughs—a dreadful, thunderous sound that holds no humour, only contempt.
“Repent?” He leans forward, his voice booming across the hall. “Me? Repent? Why would I ever bow to the likes of you?”
Then he turns his gaze upward, toward the balcony.
“Andrei!”
The entire room turns as one. Every eye lifts. Harold’s eyes burn with fury and command.
“As my successor,” he roars, “I command you! Strike her down!”
Silence answers him.
Andrei stands frozen at the balcony railing. He looks down—at his father, at Rose, at the hundreds of eyes waiting for him to obey.
“Father…” he says, so quietly few can hear.
“NOW!” Harold shrieks.
The hall holds its breath. Every student, every guest, every vampire watches. The future heir of Majestic Academy stands caught between two worlds. On one side: his family, his blood, everything he has ever been taught. On the other: a girl he could never bring himself to abandon.
Slowly, Andrei looks at Rose. Then at his father. Then at the silent, waiting crowd. He takes a breath. And he makes his choice.
“No.”
Harold stares at him as though he has heard wrong. “You dare? You dare defy your own father?”
Andrei walks forward to the edge of the balcony, his steps steady, unhesitating.
“I will not fight her,” he declares. He looks out across the stunned faces below. “And I will not fight them.”
A collective gasp ripples through the room, rising into shocked whispers. The heir of Majestic Academy has publicly rejected the Great Lord’s command. He has chosen the enemy over his own blood.
Harold’s face twists with rage. His VIP guests exchange horrified glances. The Wang family stiffens. The Zhao family stares in stunned surprise. Silence crashes back in—heavy, terrified silence. No one dares breathe.
Harold leans forward, his voice dropping to a terrifying, dangerous whisper.
“Say that again.”
Andrei meets his father’s eyes. He does not look away.
“I will not fight her,” he repeats, stronger, clearer, final. “And I will not fight the Zhao clan. Not when they stand for what is right.”
A sharp crack echoes through the hall.
Harold strikes. His hand connects with Andrei’s cheek, the force sending him stumbling backward.
“Ungrateful fool!” Harold roars. “Would you turn your back on your own blood? On your legacy? On everything we have built?”
Andrei straightens slowly. His cheek stings, the heat blooming across his skin, but the pain is nothing compared to what he feels in his chest. He lifts his head and looks his father in the eye.
“Years of disappointment, Father. Years of lies. And tonight… you showed me exactly what you truly believe. That is where my loyalty ends.”
“No,” Andrei continues, his voice calm and steady. “I am choosing what is right.”
Harold laughs—a bitter, furious sound. “Right? You know nothing of right and wrong!”
Andrei clenches his fists, but his voice remains level.
“Maybe I do not know everything,” he says. He glances around the room—at the frightened students, at the wounds that refuse to heal, at the evidence written across every face. “But I know what is wrong. And this… all of this… is wrong.”
Harold falls silent, trembling with rage. The battle outside is forgotten. The enemies standing before him are forgotten. This has become something far more personal. A confrontation between father and son. Between power and principle. Between the way things have always been… and the way they ought to be.
Rose watches from below, her expression unreadable. Part of her expected Andrei to obey. After all, Harold is his father, his family, his entire world. Yet Andrei has chosen to stand against him. And somewhere beneath the fear and the danger, Rose feels something tighten in her chest—a warmth, a gratitude, a feeling she cannot name. He chose the truth. Even at the greatest cost.
Then the atmosphere shifts.
A heavy, invisible pressure descends upon the hall. The air grows dense, charged. Rose feels it before she understands—movement from the corner of her eye. Jared stands near the entrance, his hand forming quick, sharp signals. His eyes lock with hers.
Read me. Understand.
Rose watches. Her heart sinks. Her blood runs cold.
Dream University is under attack. Right now.
The realization hits her like a blow. This confrontation. This entire argument. Harold’s rage, his commands, his desperate struggle to maintain control… none of it was accidental.
It was a distraction.
A decoy. A carefully staged show to keep her eyes here while her people are struck elsewhere.
Fury surges through her—hot, sharp, and terrifying.
Several students step back instinctively, sensing the shift in her aura. Rose’s head snaps up, her eyes sweeping across the hall, understanding everything in an instant. She raises her voice, ringing with command and urgency.
“Everyone—fall back! Move away from the walls! Get clear of the windows!”
She turns to the Zhao family, her voice urgent and sharp.
“It is a trap! They never intended to fight us here! They struck at home while we stand arguing!”