Rebirth Of The Forgotten Heiress - Chapter 74: Chapter 74

"Where did those injuries come from?" Yasin asked softly, instantly silencing both Quinlyn and Yancy—his tone was deathly grave.
Quinlyn cleared her throat lightly. "They are battle trophies."
Yasin didn't get her point. "What?"
Quinlyn continued, "Just trophies from a fight."
With just those few words, Yasin immediately pieced together what was going on.
While Chancey was working hard, he suddenly sneezed. Little did he know that the drama had already begun.
Yasin just grunted in response and dropped the subject. After hastily finishing a few bites, he said he'd pick her up for a piano lesson after school and then left without another word.
After Yasin left, Yancy unleashed his inner critic. "I'm telling you. This old guy is seriously scheming. Did you see that look in his eyes? It was like he wanted to devour someone alive!"
Quinlyn didn't want to reply to him. She thought, 'Yeah. You're the one he's after.'
That day, Quinlyn experienced what it meant to be nearly deafened by ear-splitting chatter—she almost wished Yancy would just be openly hostile; at least then, she might have some peace.
After all the classes finally wrapped up, Yancy finally quieted down. He was exhausted after a whole day, but for the first time, he truly felt the noble calling of being a teacher, and he couldn't help but feel like he was killing it.
Standing under the eaves, Yancy noticed Quinlyn glancing toward the intersection and couldn't help asking, "Are you waiting for that guy, Yasin?"
After a long day of classes, Quinlyn was too exhausted for her usual banter—she just nodded quietly.
"He's way too old for you. Seriously, you two just don't match." Yancy thought, 'I'd never tried so hard to talk sense into someone in his life.'
But Quinlyn just lazily raised her brows. "So, should I compete with Yalena for Zachary instead?"
Yancy let out a sigh. "Why are you always so disagreeable?"
"That's just how I am—never cared about pleasing anyone," she replied, leaning against the wall. Above her, a streetlight snapped on, and in the next instant, every streetlight along the road flared to life, racing toward the horizon.
At the very start stood Quinlyn, her skirt fluttering in the wind, her silhouette etched against the sudden illumination—an arresting fusion of delicate and striking features.
Yancy hesitated and then said, "If you were a bit nicer, the whole family would like you."
Quinlyn paused and then shook her head. "Not happening."
Yancy frowned. "What do you mean, not happening?"
"I mean, I'm not changing. Just drop it."
Yancy felt that Quinlyn wasn't referring to her personality. When she said not happening, her gaze drifted to the side, her face tilting slightly upward, an inscrutable expression flickering across her features.
Quinlyn spotted the familiar car and straightened her back. She turned to Yancy and said, "I've been thinking about it all day. I don't know why you suddenly started treating me like this, but if it's because of what happened the other day, it's unnecessary.
"I'm not the one who's hurting—I'm standing here, perfectly intact, both physically and mentally."
She gave him a gentle smile and continued, "Don't force yourself to shoulder unnecessary burdens. That's not good for you. Besides, you don't owe me anything, so there's nothing you need to make up for."
Finally, she waved at Yancy. "Go on, be good. Head home." With that, she walked away, her steps light and carefree, showing no sign of reluctance.
Yancy stood there, dazed. He had an indescribable feeling. His mind felt strangely empty, yet flooded with nothing but Quinlyn's words.
That stubborn "Not happening" kept echoing in his mind. Suddenly, an absurd thought struck him. 'Was she implying that even if she changed, the family still wouldn't accept her?' he wondered.
He shook his head at once. 'With Quinlyn's arrogant character, there's no way she'd ever think like that.'
As soon as Quinlyn got in the car, she saw Yasin sitting in the back seat, his gaze fixed on Yancy not far away. The taciturn driver started the engine and politely put up the partition.
Yasin clicked his tongue. "What did you say to that kid? He looks like his heart is broken."
Following his gaze, Quinlyn saw that Yancy was still standing under the eaves, unmoving and dejected. Though his posture hadn't changed, she could somehow tell he'd just been struck.
The truth is rarely pleasant to hear. If Quinlyn didn't spell it out, Yancy would just keep agonizing over that impossible dilemma.
Quinlyn let out a small sigh. "I was teaching him not to go around carrying the weight of a guilty conscience. That kind of burden gets heavy if he holds onto it too long."
She paused, and then added with a smirk, "Life Lesson Number Two. Not everyone gets this kind of advice from me."
Yasin hummed thoughtfully and then nodded. "Makes perfect sense."
"Of course. Professor Quinlyn's class is now open—just a modest five-figure fee per session, honest pricing for everyone." She held up five fingers, ready to pitch her services.
"Really? Do you have any credentials? My hourly rate is verifiable, you know," Yasin kindly reminded her. Quinlyn's eyebrow twitched. 'What a killjoy old man,' she thought, and shut her mouth.
A moment later, a hundred-dollar bill was placed in her hand. "Here, take a hundred bucks. Come on, Professor Quinlyn."
Quinlyn felt he was insulting her. But despite her thoughts, she immediately sat up straight and tucked the bill into her pocket—her actions spoke louder than her words. After all, who could say no to Benjamin?
As they settled into the car, Quinlyn glanced over and finally asked what had been on her mind all day, "So, what were you up to yesterday? You looked completely wiped out."
Yasin shifted positions, lounging even more lazily. "Just out fighting the good fight," he quipped.
"Then why were you in such a foul mood all day?"
Yasin pondered for a few seconds before answering earnestly, "Maybe I just needed a cuddle."
There were so many things Quinlyn wanted to mock about that she had no idea where to start. Here he was, looking all proper and serious, yet saying such shameless things, with that sharp, intimidating face of his. It created this bizarre kind of chemistry.
The chemistry gave off a soft-focus effect, making Quinlyn—against her better judgment—find him kinda cute. She shook her head hard. 'Had I lost my damn mind?'
A night breeze swept into the car. It scattered Yasin's earnest words into the air, met with nothing but silence. Yasin fell silent. His gaze would occasionally drift to his wrist, and now and then, a shadow of gloom flickered in his eyes.
After leaving Yarden's ward, that phantom pain in his hand started acting up again—untouchable, invisible, yet bone-deep, putting him in a foul mood.
He hadn't felt it for a while. Ever since he'd started spending time with the girl beside him, the pain had suddenly eased. But now, for some reason, it was back.
Thinking about what happened with Yarden, a thread of suspicion began forming in his mind.