I hate that girl
Nine years later…
I used to be 8, but now I'm 17, and since the day Lydia stole what was supposed to be a cherished first kiss, my life has taken quite the turn.
Where to begin? Well, I'm now in my last year of high school, and it's been a long stretch of being top of the class in every subject—magic, etiquette, swordsmanship, and even literature. These were the joys of my academic life, and mastering them came as naturally to me as breathing.
Physically, I've undergone a transformation that's nothing short of remarkable. From a mere 5 foot 7, I now stand tall at 6 foot 2. Lise, bless her, has only managed a few millimeters of growth, inching from 5 foot 7 to 5 foot 8 over the same period. Our height difference has become a source of endless teasing, but it's all in good fun.
The white horn that once adorned my forehead has yet to make a reappearance, and its absence remains a mystery. But that's the least of my concerns. My body has become a testament to the rigors of sword training—muscles well-defined, abs etched into my skin, and a presence both fearsome and, dare I say, rather attractive. My magic, too, has evolved; I can now conjure weapons from the black flames that dance at my command.
But life isn't without its thorns. Louise, my suposed gardian insisted I pay rent and find a job. So, I joined a guild and embarked on missions. Despite the challenges, I've managed to scrape together enough coin to get by, thanks to my A rank as a mage and the complex missions I dare to undertake.
And then there's Lydia. Merely thinking of her sends a wave of exasperation through me. She's grown into a beauty, but her personality made her look super ugly to me. For nine long years, she's been a constant irritant—save for vacations and weekends—escalating her antics from hiding my belongings to outright destruction.
She once set my stuff on fire, hitted me with stone, and even attempted to poison my lunch. Thankfully, being a demon has its perks, and the poison merely resulted in an inconvenient bout of diarrhea.
But the worst of her deeds? It happened during one of my peaceful naps. I had painstakingly grown my hair out, only for her to snip it off in a spiteful whim. Now, my once-long locks are reduced to a short crop, a daily reminder of her merciless act. I can still hear her evil laugh when I think about it.
Today's magic theory class was a stark reminder of the chasm between practical application and theoretical knowledge. I've always been one to favor the tangible elements of magic—the flicker of a flame at my fingertips, the tangible weight of a conjured weapon.
Yet, there I was, confined within the four walls of a classroom, my mind wandering through realms far beyond the droning voice of Mr. Braga.
"Miss Blackwell, could you grace us with your attention long enough to answer a question?" Mr. Braga's voice sliced through my reverie, his tone dripping with barely concealed disdain. It was no secret that he found my aptitude for magic a thorn in his side.
I met his gaze, unflinching. "Assk your question I'm ready," I replied, my confidence unshaken.
A smug smile curled his lips. "Who is credited with the creation of the Cromwell Necklace, the artifact known to dampen magical abilities?" he asked, certain he had me cornered.
"Alice Cromwell," I answered promptly, the name rolling off my tongue with ease. It seems that this woman was called: sexy grandma and that's why I hadn't forgotten her name because it made me laugh.
Mr. Braga's smile faltered, a vein throbbing on his forehead as he conceded, "Correct." The bell's timely chime signaled the end of the lecture, much to my relief.
"Lise," I called out, gathering my belongings with haste. "Let's depart that really borung class." I said with a wry smile.
As we exited the classroom, Lise's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Today, we venture by the River of Death," she declared, a statement that would send shivers down the spine of any ordinary person but for me it was normal even if Lise didn't drink blood she liked thing that had to deal with blood.
The River of Death earned its ominous name from the 88 piranhas that lurked within its depths, turning it into a watery grave for any unwary soul daring enough to dip a toe. Yet, to Lise, it was a place of fascination.
She found a peculiar joy in feeding the piranhas bread, watching them swarm with a voracious hunger that mirrored the darkness I'd seen flicker in her eyes on occasion.
As we approached the riverbank, the sound of rushing water filled the air, a stark contrast to the silence of the classroom. The piranhas awaited their feast, and Lise, with a loaf of bread in hand, prepared to indulge in her macabre ritual.
I stood by her side, an observer to her strange affinity for the morbid, and yet, I couldn't help but feel a kinship with her. In this world of magic and monsters, perhaps it was the darkness that bound us together as friends.
The River of Death flowed before me, its name a grim reminder of the fate that awaited any who dared its treacherous waters. Lise tossed bits of bread, each piece summoning a frenzy of piranhas, their sharp teeth glinting like daggers in the sunlight.
As I stood there, lost in thought, Lydia emerged from the shadows, her entourage in tow. Their laughter pierced the air, a cacophony of mockery aimed at Lise and me.
"Look at the mighty Aurelia, so brave yet so distant from reality," Lydia taunted, her voice dripping with venom.
Her lackeys joined in, their jeers a chorus of disdain. "Too good for us, are you?" one sneered, stepping closer with a malicious grin.
Before I could react, Lydia gave a nod, and I felt a shove from behind. The world tilted, and I plunged into the river. The water enveloped me, a cold embrace that should have spelled my doom.
But the piranhas, sensing something far more formidable than their usual prey, scattered in fear. I rose from the depths, the water cascading off me as I stepped onto the bank, unharmed and undeterred.
"I really hate that girl," I muttered under my breath, my disdain for Lydia as clear as the river's surface. Her plan had failed, and the piranhas' retreat only confirmed what I already knew I was not one to be trifled with.