My High School Nerd Rival - Chapter 67

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 67
What a wonderful world this was.
Ivy read the book she’d borrowed from Cyrus and felt grateful to have been born in the modern age.
Even books she could never have read alone became comprehensible enough with the help of the internet.
It wasn’t quite aligned with the project’s intention of crafting “her own translation,” but surely she needed to understand the content first.
The section they’d been assigned covered the episode of Apollo and Daphne.
The story began with Cupid’s vengeance, the archer bearing a grudge against Apollo.
Cupid fired a Golden Arrow at Apollo, dooming him to fall in love, while striking Daphne with a Lead Arrow that made her abhor love itself.
Apollo forgot everything and pursued only her, while Daphne fled desperately from his terrible advances.
Their feelings deepened only in opposite directions, leading to a tragic end.
Unable to flee any longer, Daphne prayed to become something—anything—else, and transformed into the Laurel Tree.
Apollo embraced the tree that had been his love and wept, swearing to keep the Laurel Tree sacred for eternity.
Ivy snapped the book shut and sat with her eyes closed for a moment.
“…What kind of story is this, anyway?”
And she’d voiced a criticism that bordered on sacrilege against a classical text.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Joy, who’d been painting her nails, nodded in solidarity. She said she’d encountered this story as a fairy tale when she was young.
“Even when I read it at eight, I wondered the same thing. What exactly was Daphne’s crime?”
“Exactly!”
Ivy dragged her chair over to Joy’s desk with exaggerated effort and playfully extended her hand.
Joy then painted Ivy’s nails in a soft pink shade.
“I honestly don’t see what good it does children to read stories like this.”
“Well, adults apparently think there’s some useful moral. Something like ‘be wary of Cupid’s arrows.'”
At Ivy’s response, Joy paused her painting and let out a soft laugh.
“Either arrow would be terrible, so yes, caution is definitely warranted.”
“How am I supposed to translate this with a ‘modern sensibility’? Even Ovid himself, brought back to life, couldn’t manage it.”
“Ovid would be shocked too. He never imagined his story would survive two thousand years just to torment students. Anyway, put your hand under this lamp.”
Joy brightened the Gel Lamp to a soft blue.
“Though we might still find some food for thought in it.”
“Where exactly are you finding food for thought in that story?”
“Well, for instance…”
Joy neatly packed her nail tools into a basket.
“What was Daphne actually afraid of?”
“Love, obviously.”
Cupid’s Lead Arrow had made her despise love itself.
“What kind of love?”
“Of course, that would be…”
She was about to say she was afraid of Apollo’s blind, obsessive love.
But reconsidering the story, she realized it couldn’t be viewed quite that way.
After being struck by the Lead Arrow, Daphne had already rejected love even before Apollo found her.
What Apollo represented to her wasn’t just his blind pursuit—it was the very possibility that her deepest fear might become real.
Thinking about it that way, what she’d truly been afraid of was…perhaps.
“Maybe she couldn’t bear the thought of falling in love herself.”
“See? No need to resurrect Ovid. Work out the rest with Cyrus at your next meeting.”
* * *
Joy’s insight had been right.
There was no need to resurrect Ovid. Ivy quickly found her footing for the project.
“The modern-day Lead Arrow.” (She’d managed to shoehorn in the word “modern” anyway.)
If she connected it to realistic barriers that make people fear falling in love, she could actually tie it to contemporary issues.
Universal anxieties like relationship fatigue in the age of social media, physical comparisons, fear of rejection.
Of course, she’d need to discuss this with Cyrus.
‘Should I send him a message?’
No, it would be better to meet him in person and talk it through.
Not for any other reason—just that it would be more comfortable to exchange ideas that way.
While mulling over these thoughts, Ivy arrived in front of the Staff Office.
She’d received a message earlier saying that Bennett wanted to see her.
Unwillingly, memories of the exam day from last semester surfaced.
Though all the misunderstandings had been cleared, thinking back on it still made her breathing heavy.
‘It’s fine.’
Ivy steadied herself and knocked on the Staff Office door.
When she pushed it open slightly, the sound of laughter stopped her in her tracks.
Bennett wasn’t the type to wear emotions openly. He offered only an awkward but impartial smile to everyone.
Her gaze naturally followed the sound. Someone was sitting across from him.
Dressed in the same school uniform, tie and all.
A tilted head held so casually, a gentle smile directed toward the teacher.
Her feet stopped first. She knew that tilt of the head, that laugh.
Ivy couldn’t move from the doorway. Her lungs seemed to contract.
“Ah, Underwood. Come in.”
At Bennett’s voice, Ivy finally moved. Her steps felt heavy.
He turned his head.
Slowly.
As if trying to hold her gaze a moment longer.
At last their eyes met. The smile on his lips was still there.
Fabian Montrose.
The owner of that name, whom she’d tried so hard not to think about during the break, was standing right in front of her now.
“Perfect timing, Underwood.”
Bennett’s voice was warm, his smile gentle.
“A new transfer student is joining us this semester. He had something come up yesterday and couldn’t come.”
“…”
A transfer student.
She could have inferred that much from his uniform. Now it truly sank in.
Fabian. Here.
“There’s only an empty room in the Third Dormitory, so I’d like to ask you to show him around. Why don’t you introduce yourselves first?”
At Bennett’s suggestion, Fabian rose and approached Ivy.
When the spring sunlight fell across him at an angle, Fabian wore that warm smile Ivy remembered.
That same warmth, unchanged since childhood.
“I’m Fabian Montrose.”
He extended his hand.
Ivy could only stare at him silently, unable to respond for a long moment.
The word “cousin” could not cross anyone’s lips. Right now, she wasn’t Princess Evelyn—she was simply “Underwood.”
And Fabian’s name had long since been erased from the royal house.
“…Ivy Underwood.”
She managed to say her name.
For just a moment, the smile vanished from Fabian’s lips. But it was so fleeting that no one but Ivy could have noticed.
She took his hand.
It was cold, like winter.
Walking toward the dormitory with Fabian after leaving the Staff Office.
After some deliberation, Ivy finally spoke.
“…What are you scheming?”
“Of course I have various schemes. Evelyn.”
Ivy’s eyes darted around them, then she glared back at him.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Regardless, I wanted to attend here. Purely.”
That was certainly a credible answer.
“We promised when we were young.”
He gently gripped her arm. But she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.
“To always be together.”
Those words clung to her ear, thick and persistent.
“…”
Ivy gave no answer.
Fabian released her arm and didn’t press for a response.
Instead, he seemed to savor even her silence, as if it were all part of some game.
They reached the dormitory entrance and opened the door. The eyes of the students gathered in the hall instantly locked onto them.
Perhaps it was because the dormitory saw the same faces every day, and a new one was a rarity.
Fabian waved lightly, as if pleased by the attention.
“Hi there.”
At his approachable greeting, several female students quickly came over to talk to him.
The questions came pouring in almost immediately.
What’s your name? Where are you from? What room number? What classes are you taking? And so on.
Fabian met every question with direct eye contact and answered politely.
Ivy stepped back a few paces and observed.
Something felt off.
He was different from the Fabian she remembered.
In the palace, even when encountering other noble children, he would never approach them first.
Among his peers, there had been only one person he truly confided in—Ivy alone.
Had all this time made him so sociable?
Or was this just a mask he’d crafted to set a trap?
Before she could judge, Joy appeared beside her and nudged Ivy’s elbow.
“He seems like a decent guy.”
Ivy couldn’t respond.
“Underwood.”
Fabian, having politely extracted himself from the students, returned to Ivy.
“…I’ll show you to your room.”
Ivy headed toward the stairs without another word, and Fabian fell into step beside her once again.
As they climbed higher, away from the other students, following the landing.
They passed a student coming down.
It was Cyrus.
His gaze landed on Ivy, then on Fabian following behind her.
His footsteps stopped.

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