Chapter 2: Engagement Dissolved, Rubbish Binned

“...I want this as much as you do.” Travis adjusted his gold-trimmed cuffs, his tone dripping with condescension. He paused, casting a razor-sharp glare down at her. “I also hope you won’t try any desperate tricks to get close to me after this engagement ends.”

“…”

The smile on Phoenix’s face twitched. The hell? Who did this walking glow-stick think he was?

…No.

A far better question was…

Just how shamelessly had the original, spineless Phoenix Wraith chased after this guy for him to be this delusionally full of himself?

Well, the old Phoenix was dead, digested in a dark zone. And this overly confident peacock was about to receive a violently overdue reality check.

“Hmph.” Phoenix folded her arms across her chest, her dark obsidian eyes glittering with vicious, amused contempt. “Trust me, sweetheart. I’d rather dry-shave a horde of infected with a butter knife than look at your face twice.”

Travis’s eyebrows twitched violently. The arrogant sneer on his polished face stiffened. For the very first time, he actually studied her—really looked at her—his gaze lingering on her sharp Asian features, the lethal calm in her pitch-black eyes, and the terrifying lack of tears.

“…Good.” Satisfied that the worthless dead weight was simply coping with bitter sarcasm, Travis turned back toward the front of the grand hall.

The silver-haired instructor adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat with an authoritative boom that echoed off the high marble arches. “As many of you know, Lord Travis Valen has long been bound in a betrothal to Guide Phoenix Wraith.”

Without missing a beat, Travis stepped forward into the spotlight. His posture was as rigid as an iron rod, his chest puffed out like a prized rooster. “Today, I am officially dissolving our engagement.” He projected his voice across the lecture hall, making sure every noble heir and top-tier student heard every single syllable. “I cannot—and will not—bind my future as an S-class Sentinel to someone incapable of guiding even low-class trash. I want absolutely nothing to do with her.”

Instantly, the surrounding gallery erupted into a flurry of snickers, sharp gasps, and malicious, excited whispers.

“Look at her… tossed out like yesterday’s garbage!” “A defective, F-rank Guide trying to anchor a Valen heir? What an absolute delusion!” “I bet she cries right here in front of everyone. Watch her break!”

Phoenix couldn’t have cared less if Travis declared himself emperor of the moon. If anything, she wanted to pop a bottle of champagne. Being tied to a high-maintenance, sensory-overloaded walking nuke like Travis Valen sounded like a slow, painful death by secondary cringe. She had survived three years of apocalyptic hell, flooded subways, and mutant swarms; dealing with a spoiled boy playing hero was below her pay grade.

Now she could quietly fade into the shadows, hit the training grounds, weaponize her new body, and build her own power base in peace.

When the instructor finally turned to her with a look of heavy, mock pity—fully expecting a pathetic breakdown—Phoenix merely shrugged her slender shoulders with effortless grace.

“Sign me up,” she drawled, her voice crisp and completely devoid of emotion. “I agree completely. Stamp the papers so I can leave.”

Another wave of stunned, suffocating silence dropped over the grand hall.

The snickers died instantly. The mocking students froze mid-gasp. Even Travis spun back toward her, the icy, unshakeable composure on his face cracking open into genuine, jaw-dropping shock. He stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head.

Completely ignoring the frozen crowd, Phoenix offered a bright, blindingly fake smile. She gave the most exaggerated, theatrical bow imaginable—her delicate fingers fluttering in the air, her dark eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated mockery.

“I sincerely wish you the absolute best of luck finding a Guide whose mental energy can actually stomach that massive ego of yours, Lord Travis.”

Without waiting for a single word in response, Phoenix turned on her heel and strutted down the central red carpet, her black blazer snapping around her frame like a battle cape. She left behind a sea of paralyzed faces, a room full of re-evaluating nobles, and one extremely humiliated, utterly speechless ex-fiancé.

Lionel chuckled lightly, his tone dripping with mock pity and sharp, cruel amusement.

“You seem to have forgotten something, Miss Wraith.” His smile widened into a sleek, predatory sneer as he adjusted the pristine silver cuff of his academy blazer. “Your family abandoned you weeks ago and made that very, very clear to everyone in the high council. The only reason you were even permitted to stay here in the main campus wing was because of Travis…”