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Elisa's patience was wearing thin. "I won't repeat myself, Nathan. What are you doing here?"

Nathan's smirk widened, his hand still on the door knob. "Curiosity killed the cat, Ravenscroft. Especially when it's your curiosity. Maybe I'm just here for a midnight snack." He gestured vaguely toward the empty room. "Or maybe I'm here for something more... important."

His tone was laced with condescension, a playful yet venomous jab. Elisa's eyes narrowed. This wasn't a casual late-night encounter. Nathan was hiding something, and his attempt at a diversion only confirmed her suspicions.

"This is school restricted property, Nathan," she said, her voice dropping to a low, warning tone. "If you're involved in something you shouldn't be, I will report you."

Nathan laughed, a short, sharp sound that echoed in the quiet hallway. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? A chance to finally get me out of the way. But you're wrong, Elisa. What I'm doing in here is none of your business. And if you dare to interfere, you'll regret it."

His threat didn't faze her. Elisa took a step forward, her hand moving to the unlock runic key in her pocket. "Threats won't work on me, Nathan. The only thing I'll regret is letting you get away with this."

Nathan's smirk faltered slightly. He clearly hadn't expected her to challenge him directly. "What do you think you're going to do to stop me?"

"The same thing I came here to do," she said, pulling a slim stack of papers from her bag. "My brother, the student council president, asked me to drop these off for him." She held up the papers, Intended to show Nathan the reason for her presence on the student council grounds. This was it— a chance for her to prove to Damien— her brother, that she was reliable, capable, and worthy of his trust. "If you're in there doing something that could jeopardize his position or his reputation, I won't let you."

She watched as Nathan's expression changed, his arrogance replaced by a hint of surprise. "He trusted you with his work?" His tone was laced with disbelief, a jab she felt deep in her chest.

"Yes," she said, her voice firm. "And I won't let you undermine his authority. Now, step aside."

The mention of her brother, the respected and admired Damien Ravenscroft, seemed to hit a nerve. Nathan's eyes, usually glinting with a mix of disdain and superiority, now showed his bitter, ugly resentment for the Ravenscroft. He saw her, not as a student, but as an extension of the privilege he despised— the kind that put her at the top of the class without having to truly fight for it.

"Always about the family name, isn't it, Ravenscroft?" he spat, his voice losing its playful tone and becoming genuinely hostile. "People may sing your praises, but we both know it's not because of your talent. It's because of who your brother is, because of the name you carry. You get everything handed to you on a silver platter."

Elisa remained impassive, her carefully constructed mask of indifference firmly in place. "That's a rather baseless accusation, Nathan. My grades are earned through hard work, not through my brother's influence." She knew her academic achievements were her own, but Nathan's words still stung. They echoed the whispers she had heard since coming to this academy, the ones she had worked so hard to silence.

"Hard work?" Nathan scoffed, a dark laugh escaping him. "What do you know about hard work? You've never had to fight for anything in your life! I'm from a little village on the coast. I had to scrape and claw my way here, while you were born with a golden spoon in your mouth, given everything you could ever want."

He couldn't hold back his anger any longer; it was a pure despise for the kingdom's noble establishment.

Nathan's fists suddenly clenched and unclenched at his sides, his body tensing like a coiled spring. Elisa instinctively took a small step back, her mind analyzing the situation. He was consumed by a personal rage. She had to de-escalate, or this would become more than just a verbal spat.

"Our background has nothing to do with what you're doing here," she said calmly, trying to redirect his focus. "This is a student council meeting room, not a battlefield for your personal grievances. Now, step aside."

The words "battlefield" seemed to trigger something in him. With a snarl of pure fury, Nathan launched himself at her. His first blow, a wild haymaker aimed at her head, was surprisingly fast. But Elisa was faster. Years of combat training— a requirement of the Ravenscroft lineage, however much she had resented it— kicked in. She sidestepped the punch with a fluid motion, the air of his fist whistling past her ear.

Nathan stumbled from the momentum, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and rage. He had expected her to cower, to scream, to be the frail noble he imagined her to be. Instead, she was a stone wall. He didn't hesitate. He came at her again, a flurry of quick, powerful jabs and hooks. Elisa's movements were precise. She blocked a jab with her forearm, parried a hook with a flick of her wrist, and ducked under a third punch that would have easily sent her sprawling.

Each block was a quiet testament to her discipline. Each parry was a controlled and calculated response. She wasn't fighting back; she was defending herself. Her goal was not to win this confrontation but to subdue it, to maintain the control she so desperately sought.

Nathan, however, was losing it. The more she defended, the angrier he became. He saw her composure as another sign of her superior status, another thing he could never attain. He let out a frustrated grunt and changed his tactics, lunging forward and attempting to grab her. Elisa, using his momentum against him, pivoted and sent him spinning. Nathan stumbled and fell, his hands scraping against the floor.

He pushed himself up, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild. He glared at her, the mask of a common student completely gone, replaced by a desperate, infuriated combatant. "You're a fake, Ravenscroft! All this composure, all this perfection— it's just a performance!"

Elisa, still holding the folder of her brother's papers, stood tall and unmoving. Her face showed nothing. "If you believe my actions are a performance, Nathan, then you are a fool."

Nathan wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, the result of his clumsy fall. He looked at her, then down at his hands, then back to her. A strange calm seemed to descend over him, his rage morphing into a cold, focused determination.

"This isn't over," he said, his voice now a low. "You may be able to block my fists now, but in the light, where everyone can see, you won't be so lucky." He stepped away from the door, his eyes fixed on hers. "Tomorrow is the combat test. We'll settle this there, the world will finally see you for what you truly are."

He turned and strode down the hallway. Elisa stood alone, the papers in her hand now slightly crumpled. Nathan knew she was a formidable opponent, he had just seen it firsthand. This was a battle for respect, a war of status, and Nathan de Acosta had just challenged her to a duel. And she knew, with chilling certainty, that this was a test she could not afford to lose.

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