Emily's pov
(panting)
I am jogging. My good mood from the previous day spilled over to today, and I felt like starting it with a jog. Though Reo was surprised by my request, he still accepted it and promised to do his best to assist me, which was great—it meant that, in this entire school, I now had one less enemy and one ally. A small but significant win, considering the odds were about 150 grown men standing at their balconies and windows, shamelessly gawking at me as I made my rounds.
“Good morning, princess!” someone shouted from above.
I ignored him, keeping my eyes ahead and my pace steady, determined not to feed their egos with even a glance.
“What a glorious view!” another chimed in, and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.
“Princess, you decided to show off your womanly side in front of werewolves. Aren’t you afraid we’ll bite?” a third teased, sparking a chorus of obnoxious laughter.
Shortly after, the comment got a round of barking from the balconies. “Woof, woof, woof!” they howled like the pack of idiots they were.
This time, I allowed myself a little indulgence. I raised my hand and flipped them the middle finger. The uproar that followed was satisfying. The culprit who’d made the biting comment was fuming, his face probably red with embarrassment, while his friends roared with laughter at his expense. But I had no intention of stopping. If I were the timid sort, I wouldn’t have set foot in an all-boys school in the first place.
I wasn’t even wearing anything remotely provocative—a plain t-shirt, sneakers, and oversized shorts I found in my brother’s trunk back at home. They were so big I had to tie them around my waist with a lace. But I guessed decency wasn’t the issue here; I was simply an anomaly in their testosterone-filled world.
“Be honest, you’re from the Lotus Shop, right?” one of them hollered.
I slowed my pace at the mention of the infamous brothel. My fingers itched to retaliate with something even more reputation-damaging than a middle finger, but I held back, noticing someone waiting up ahead.
The Lotus Shop was a well-known brothel in the heart of town. My brother and I had the “luxury” of visiting it once. And no, not for the reasons these idiots would assume. We were investigating whether our father was cheating on our mother. For your information, he was wrongly accused. It turned out he was there for a business meeting, but that didn’t erase the trauma of stepping foot into that place.
With a sigh, I decided to rein in my temper. My fun morning run was officially over. Up ahead stood a very displeased Damien.
Honestly, this guy just didn’t get the message. Wasn’t yesterday’s humiliation enough for him? Did he really come back for more? Whatever the case, I almost admired his persistence—though I couldn’t decide if it was stupidity or bravery.
Damien was one of the people I truly disliked, because of the arranged marriage and because I just disliked his face. And when it came to people I didn’t like, I had a tendency not to hold back.