Lily

{Lily}

Magical particles dance in the morning sunlight streaming through our estate's floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on the enchanted frames where generations of prestigious mages stare down at me. Their painted eyes track my every move, waiting to see if perfect little Lily Amano will finally crack.

[But I never do, do I?]

I perch at my rose-gold vanity, legs crossed just so - ankles touching, knees slightly tilted, back straight enough to balance books on. My reflection shows exactly what I've spent years crafting: flowing chestnut waves that took an hour to look "natural," skin airbrushed with glamour powder worth more than some people's monthly rent, and these carefully maintained freckles that make me look so sweetly innocent.

"Perfect," I whisper, practicing my smile. Not too wide - that's desperate. Not too small - that's stuck up. Just right. Just... perfect.

Every detail is a carefully conducted symphony, from my collarbones highlighted with diamond-infused powder to the way my uniform skirt falls at exactly regulation length. I am right. I am proper. I am-

My enchanted phone chimes, its crystal case (custom-made, of course) catching the light.

**Trending Now:** "S-Class Mage Akari Nakamura, Idol or Disgrace???"

My perfectly glossed lips twitch, the sweet smile cracking for just a moment before I catch myself.

[Ugh. This fucking girl again.]

I open the article while slipping on my tailored blazer. The fabric hugs my waist exactly how I specified to our family's seamstress - not that I'd ever admit to having it altered. The photo makes my teeth clench behind closed lips.

Akari fucking Nakamura, with that trashy bleached hair and that rebel attitude, throwing up a peace sign while pink magic sparks around her like some cheap firework display.

"Seriously?" I scroll with one perfectly manicured nail, my other hand adjusting my blazer's enchanted collar. "She dresses like a convenience store hostess and they're still obsessed with her?"

"Lily, darling!" Mother's voice carries up the grand staircase, each syllable precisely enunciated. "Your breakfast is ready!"

"Coming, Mother!" I call back, my voice hitting that perfect note of daughterly devotion. I tuck my phone into my designer bag (charmed to be bigger on the inside, naturally) and smooth my skirt one final time.

[Just wait, Nakamura. You're not the only one who knows how to put on a show.]

The light catches my reflection as I turn - sweet, innocent Lily Amano, every teacher's wet dream. Only my eyes give away the calculation behind the smile, but I never let anyone look long enough to notice.

Our dining room is what happens when old money meets magical excess. This massive crystal chandelier pulses with enchanted light, throwing rainbow reflections across a mahogany table that could seat half the school board. Everything screams "we've had money since money was invented."

Mother and Father occupy their usual spots, sipping coffee from cups that cost more than some people's cars. The radio plays softly, but we all hear this crystal clear:

"And in breaking news, Crescent Moon University's newest sensation, S-Class Mage Akari Nakamura, continues to make waves with her unprecedented abilities and... unique approach to magical academia."

I watch Mother's perfect nose wrinkle like she's smelled something common.

"That girl again," she sighs, setting down her cup with a precise clink. "She's becoming quite the spectacle."

Father shifts uncomfortably in his chair, probably wishing he had a newspaper to dramatically throw down.

"Vulgar," he mutters. "The council should focus on students with real potential, not attention-seeking... social media stars."

I take a delicate bite of French toast, letting my practiced smile surface.

"Don't worry about her," I say, voice dripping honey. "Some of us understand what real class looks like."

[And some of us know how to play the long game, don't we?]

"Have you interacted with her at all, dear?" Mother's voice carries that edge of concern. "She hasn't bothered you, has she?"

"No, no, no," I reply, the lies flowing smooth as silk. "She spends most of her time in Class 1 just sort of staring at her phone."

Mother nods approvingly, and I force myself not to touch the Class 2 badge hidden beneath my perfectly pressed blazer. The weight of their expectations presses heavier than any enchanted jewelry, but that's fine.

[After all, perfect little Lily never cracks. Not where anyone can see.]

---

Our magically enhanced car glides through Crescent Moon's gates like it belongs there - which it does. Chrome barriers recognize old money instantly, parting without a whisper. I lean against the window, my perfectly manicured nails drumming against the secret that burns beneath them:

My Class 2 badge.

[Would Mother still beam with pride if she knew her perfect daughter wasn't good enough for Class 1?]

I scroll through an endless feed of Akari fucking Nakamura.

Pictures, articles, memes - that gyaru trash's influence spreading through our prestigious academy like a disease in designer clothing. Each post twists the knife deeper.

"At least Class 1 isn't bothering you," Mother's breakfast words echo in my head. Such a beautifully crafted lie.

Not technically false, of course. Hard to be bothered by someone you haven't interacted with at all. 

My heels click against cobblestones as I step out, each sound precise and measured. Students turn to watch - they always do. I give them my trademark wave, the one I've practiced in mirrors since I could walk. Approachable elegance backed by generations of magical pedigree.

None of them know how close I came to cracking this morning, watching Daddy beam with pride as I spun tales about Class 1 adventures I haven't had. I could possibly never have. 

[If they ever found out... No. They won't. I'll fix this before they need to know.]

The campus thrums with raw magical energy, but my eyes lock onto that flash of bleached blonde hair by Advanced Theory.

Akari fucking Nakamura lounges against the wall like she owns it, that equally trashy friend draped all over her. They're laughing, completely ignorant of proper magical conduct. That Class 1 badge on her uniform gleams like a personal insult.

[I worked my whole life to be perfect. To make my family proud. Then this convenience store reject walks in and takes everything I deserve?]

Professor Sato's office waits in the quieter wing, where ambition goes to ensure its future. My knock is perfectly timed between classes, just like everything else about me.

[This ends now. One way or another.]

"Ah, Miss Amano." His glasses catch the enchanted lighting as he looks up from shimmering papers. "I was just reviewing the Arcane Symposium candidates. Your name stands out, naturally."

"Naturally." My smile turns sharp as I cross my legs, leaning forward just enough to command attention. A Class 2 student on the symposium list... It's not enough. Nowhere near enough. "But standing out isn't quite the same as being chosen, is it?"

"No," he agrees, adjusting those thick glasses. "The committee seeks excellence. Something extraordinary. I will make my selections accordingly."

[Oh honey, I'll show you extraordinary. I'll show everyone what real Class 1 material looks like.]

I rise like expensive perfume, drifting around his desk with practiced grace. My fingers trace the polished wood as I lean down, close enough for my designer fragrance to cloud his senses.

I've worked too hard, crafted too perfect an image, to let some gyaru upstart ruin everything.

"I could show you extraordinary," I whisper, and THIS is how you really climb. Not with flashy spells and social media fame, but with carefully applied pressure and perfectly timed submission.

What follows is a demonstration in real power - the kind that doesn't need viral posts or pink sparkles. Just calculated movements and precise application of pressure, my lips and tongue orchestrating another piece in my carefully constructed game. Every stroke another step toward reclaiming what should have been mine from the start.

I deserve this, after all.

[This is how you really get ahead. Watch and learn, Nakamura.]

"Miss Amano..." Sato gasps, grip white-knuckled on his chair.

"Lily," I correct him, looking up through Perfect Student™ lashes. "I think we're past formalities now, don't you?"

After all, some kinds of magic don't need spells at all.

And if I have to suck every cock in the faculty lounge to get the Class 1 spot I deserve...?

[That's just another kind of test to ace.]