My High School Nerd Rival - Chapter 42

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Chapter 42
The sender of that message had said “see you soon,” and now Owen was rushing toward her.
If that was true, there was only one conclusion.
That person really was here.
And was preparing to face Ibi.
It had already been certain that the purpose wasn’t a friendly reunion.
—I apologize, Your Highness. The identification was actually made long ago, but I couldn’t tell you.
“What are you talking about?”
Ibi questioned her own ears.
Last time, she’d given him a clear order: tell her the moment he found out who it was.
But Owen hadn’t done that, which meant her father’s hand had been in this as well.
Something her father hadn’t wanted her to see.
More than that—something her parents hadn’t wanted their daughter to know.
It was probably the same kind of thing Zoe’s parents had been keeping silent about all along.
Zoe had once said this about it.
‘They don’t listen to me, and they won’t tell me their side of things. They say it’s all for me, but really they just couldn’t find the words to wrap up their own ugliness.’
That naive belief that silence would let children forget without ever knowing.
Ibi had never forgotten.
Never forgotten that hour when she’d foolishly lost her closest cousin and the woman she loved as a nurse.
The Poisoning Attempt Incident.
Her father’s discomfort with it wasn’t merely because she’d issued the order to eliminate her own brother with her own hands. That incident…
It was then.
A male student walked into her line of sight, backlit by the pouring afternoon sun.
A Berke High School uniform. And beneath the sunlight, hair that gleamed nearly white-gold, with cleanly sculpted features.
Other students turned their heads slightly as he passed.
Ibi held her breath without meaning to.
—It’s Fabian.
Owen’s urgent voice burst through the receiver.
Their eyes met.
Ibi’s cousin the same age as herself, whom she’d also seen in last night’s dream. And her long-standing guilt.
Fabian Montrose.
He had lost everything five years ago in the poisoning incident, at the mere age of eleven.
His parents, those around him, and everything he had rightfully enjoyed as an heir to the Royalty.
Now he was an heir who had never existed in the Royal Family at all—completely erased.
—He’ll be there. I’m certain I directly confirmed he was in a Foreign Country until just recently…
Owen’s voice through the receiver grew fainter and more distant.
“…Yes.”
When Ibi barely answered with trembling lips, Fabian stopped directly before her.
“So you really are here.”
—Your Highness?
Without answering the question back to her, Ibi hung up the phone.
Only when the blunt edge of winter wind swept between them did Ibi finally lift her head to face him.
Fabian was a boy with a smile that everyone would stop to recall once.
That beauty had not faded. Rather, it had grown more striking, adorned by time and experience.
Yet the ends of his gently curved eyes looked far too sharp to Ibi, making it difficult not to recognize an obvious truth.
Fabian harbored hatred toward Ibi.
‘Of course… it would be.’
Even though she hadn’t just now learned this, a part of her heart throbbed.
“…Fabian.”
When she managed to call his name, he answered in a cordial voice.
“How well are the secrets being kept?”
She remembers what that means. An anonymous message that had come to her once.
“So it really was you, Fabian.”
“Yes.”
He bowed with proper courtesy and elegance, as though standing in the Royal Palace’s banquet hall.
His shadow, slowly rising, fell darkly across Ibi’s face.
“Your Highness.”
“Don’t call me that.”
At the disturbance in her voice, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“My apologies. I heard you’re now enjoying leisure under the name ‘Ibi Underwood.'”
She understood that he had deliberately chosen the word “leisure.”
He wanted to speak about the difference between them.
Ibi, who of her own will hides the royal name of de Crest. Meanwhile, Fabian, who had that name stolen from him as a child without understanding why.
That difference must have cut at his sense of loss.
“You have nothing to say. Just like then.”
Precisely speaking, she had no words available.
Or perhaps she could have said this: his anger toward Ibi was not justified.
Just as that event had been sudden for him, it had been sudden for her too.
But Ibi knew what he was angry about.
It wasn’t the cruel verdict handed down by the Royalty’s elders that had driven him to the cliff’s edge.
It was Ibi—who had turned away from his desperate plea, carrying his last hope.
“Of course, a princess shouldn’t mix words with the son of a criminal. The filth might rub off, wouldn’t it.”
“That’s not—”
When Ibi tried to object, the smile vanished from his face.
“Isn’t it?”
One step closer.
He moved near enough that Ibi had to lift her head to meet his gaze.
“Tell me. If it wasn’t that, what was it?”
Such ancient guilt gripped her throat that no sound could escape.
“Underwood.”
Another shadow drew near her side, cutting between them with a cool voice.
When she turned, Cyrus was standing there.
Wearing his characteristic expression of being annoyed and exhausted by everything.
“You’re keeping me waiting too long.”
He didn’t even glance toward where Fabian stood.
As if he didn’t exist in this place at all.
Ibi grew wary, sensing that this manner of dismissal might touch Fabian’s deep trauma.
“Oh, well… I’m about to leave. And this is—”
So she tried to make an introduction, at least out of politeness, but Cyrus didn’t wait.
“We need to head to the Waiting Room. Any reason to dally?”
“That, well—”
A brief silence.
Surprisingly, it was Fabian who spoke first into that gap.
“I didn’t realize you were busy. I’ve committed an indiscretion.”
“Yeah.”
Quinton answered him dismissively and gave Ibi’s back a light nudge with the Notebook he was holding.
“Move it, Underwood. No time to waste.”
“Huh? Yes.”
Even as she was pushed forward and took her first steps, Ibi’s head turned back toward Fabian.
He was waving one hand with an enigmatic smile.
“Don’t worry. We’ll meet again on stage soon.”
On stage?
“Is a benevolent lie justified? Really a fascinating topic, isn’t it?”
And he bowed with the same courtesy as when they’d first met.
“Until then, Your Highness.”
“…!”
After hurling that bombshell farewell, he returned to where the other Berke High School students were.
* * *
The corridor leading to the Waiting Room.
Ibi followed Cyrus in silence, shuffling her feet.
After Fabian disappeared, Cyrus had merely hurried her along with “let’s go,” without asking anything about the title he’d just heard.
‘He couldn’t have missed it, could he?’
Ibi held onto a hopeful thought, though it seemed unlikely.
They soon arrived at the Waiting Room.
Several upperclassmen had already taken their places and were doing a dress rehearsal. The two of them sat down on a worn old sofa in the corner.
Sunken into the cushions, Cyrus began carefully reviewing Ibi’s Notebook again.
“So, you know what he said back there?”
Ibi spoke to him hesitantly, in a small voice.
“We grew up together from when we were little, so he’s just joking around. It’s like a nickname from home. So embarrassing, really.”
She’d seen it in books and dramas—plenty of families where fathers call their daughters “Your Highness.”
So please, let this excuse be valid. Please.
“In other words.”
Cyrus answered without lifting his eyes from the Notebook.
“You’re close, like family. Again.”
“It’s not like family—he actually is family. He’s my cousin.”
“Actually family.”
He repeated the words calmly, and only then did he look at Ibi.
“Still, you didn’t seem close enough to actually be sharing your family nicknames.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other!”
Cyrus seemed indifferent to other people, yet occasionally he was frighteningly perceptive.
It was probably because his analytical skills were sharp and his mind worked fast. Not that she wanted to compliment a rival, but it was the truth.
“Don’t tell the other kids! Having a nickname like that at this age is so embarrassing.”
Of course, she knew Cyrus wouldn’t go gossiping about private matters to others.
Ibi just wanted to emphasize again and again that “Your Highness” was a “nickname.”
Cyrus still looked at her with something like suspicion, but slowly he nodded and returned to reading the Notebook.
Phew, what a relief.
That Cyrus didn’t find it strange.
“Got it. Your Highness.”
“…!”
A shocking response that caught her off guard.
Was this guy joking with her right now?
“…Do you have a death wish?”
Ibi’s eyes went wide.
“No.”
He answered quietly, still focused on the Notebook with that indifferent expression.
Seriously, she hated this.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————