Rebirth Of The Forgotten Heiress - Chapter 78: Chapter 78

Yalena hadn't expected Yancy to stand up against her. Instead of looking hurt, she just frowned hesitantly. "So, what are we supposed to do now?"
Yalena's question left Yancy speechless. Yancy was the type who didn't yield to force, nor did he cave to softness.
If Yalena started crying, he might muster a few righteous words, but when the problem was thrown directly into his lap, he couldn't bring himself to be truly harsh—he wasn't a bad person at heart.
Could he just turn his back on someone lying there, completely unresponsive, not even knowing whether she was alive or dead? Yancy couldn't bring himself to do it.
Yalena knew this about Yancy all too well, so she left the final decision entirely up to him.
Quinlyn stood by the window, watching as Beatrice was carried in. She wasn't the least bit surprised—if Yancy could stand his ground against Yalena, he wouldn't be such an enabler who spoiled his sister without principles.
Quinlyn's gaze shifted to the black car outside. The car's door was still hanging open. Quinlyn was not sure if Yasin was still in it. As she looked away, she caught Yalena downstairs raising her head, and their gazes locked in a silent exchange.
Quinlyn caught the silent challenge in Yalena's eyes—a wordless defiance unique to a spoiled young miss. Quinlyn touched the corner of her lips, feeling her "villainess instinct" flaring up inside.
But she just cast a dismissive glance at Yalena, and then decisively pulled the curtains shut, refusing to engage any further. She thought to herself, 'No progress for now—guess I'll just save my villainess energy for when things heat up.'
Yalena followed the others inside, but out of the corner of her eye, she kept glancing at the black car parked not far away—the very same one Quinlyn had been watching just moments before.
A few minutes later. Yalena made up an excuse to step outside, only to find the black car still parked in the same spot.
To her surprise, Quinlyn's curtains—which had been tightly shut just moments ago—were now wide open. Clearly, Quinlyn had been watching that car again.
After a moment's consideration, Yalena made her way toward the black car. Deep down, she had a faint suspicion and pretty much knew who was in it.
She simply wanted to say hello—even if they couldn't be friends, at least there was no need to become enemies. But five minutes later. Yalena came running back, her face buried in her hands, looking utterly humiliated.
Quinlyn was just about to tell Yasin to leave when she caught sight of this. Quinlyn blinked, thinking, 'What was going on when I was busy with my homework?"
Downstairs, Yalena turned her tearful gaze toward Quinlyn, who was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, her face flushed with humiliation and rage. The fury in her eyes made it clear—she was now hating Quinlyn too.
Quinlyn thought, 'What's her problem now? I did nothing this time.' Not far away, the black car silently closed its door, like a hunter retreating after a successful hunt, mission accomplished.
Quinlyn quickly grabbed her phone and dialed, but Yasin just hung up on her. A moment later, two texts came through.
Pawn: [In a meeting. Busy.]
Pawn: [After your piano classes, I'm signing you up for combat training. You're wasting your height.]
Just from those texts, Quinlyn could practically picture the look of utter disdain on his face. 'So, he saw everything that just happened?' Quinlyn thought, 'What the hell did he just do?' Quinlyn couldn't help but wonder, her mind reeling in confusion.
Yasin fired off a reply: [Stop overthinking and finish your homework. Get some sleep. You'll find out tomorrow morning.]
That one message snapped her back to reality. 'Right, I have a mountain of homework.' As a dedicated exam candidate, she pulled an all-nighter until 2 a.m. that night.
By then, her vision blurred, and her mind felt as if it were drifting through clouds, light and empty.
'I... I can't breathe.' Quinlyn thought, tilting her head back, eyes vacant. 'Why is it that everyone else gets to live a high life and date around after being given a second chance, but I?
'Not only do I have to keep getting tangled up in all this drama, but I also have to do endless practice problems... God.' She let out a silent scream inside.
The mere thought of enduring this grueling routine for another whole year made Quinlyn want to wail uncontrollably. 'Let's see, will the Narrator give any response?'
Suddenly, a soothing warmth radiated from her chest through her limbs, tenderly yet firmly dissolving every trace of fatigue.
[Effort recognized. Reward: Fatigue cleared. Go to bed early.] The Narrator gave its standard one-line reply and disappeared.
Quinlyn let it go this time. Just moments ago, she had been so tired and her head was pounding, irritable, and miserable from fatigue.
But now, as a wave of comfort washed over her body, it felt like she didn't need to do anything else. All she wanted was to lie quietly in bed and drift into a sweet dream.
The next day, at 7 a.m. sharp, the alarm blared, jolting Quinlyn awake. She opened her eyes and cheerfully greeted the Narrator out loud to the empty air, and then stretched her limbs with a satisfied yawn.
'Wow, that was the best sleep ever,' she thought.
The Narrator gave no response, as if it had never existed at all. Quinlyn never expected the Narrator would greet her with exaggerated enthusiasm.
A cheeky grin spread across her face. Quinlyn said to the Narrator, "That reward last night was awesome.
"As an exam candidate, having this kind of buff is like cheating—just imagine, while everyone else can only study for twelve hours, I can go for eighteen. What is this if not a miracle?"
The Narrator continued to play dead. "Ugh, if I'm gonna keep working this hard, having something like this would make staying up all night a breeze." She said it with a pointed hint at what she wanted.
Still nothing from the Narrator. Quinlyn shrugged. 'I see,' Quinlyn thought. 'Although this Narrator acts all cold and emotionless, what a softie at heart.'
Quinlyn figured that if she kept pestering the Narrator every day, she'd make the Narrator fulfill her wish sooner or later.
After freshening up, Quinlyn swung the door open with a spring in her step. Suddenly, someone toppled over at her feet. "What the—?" Quinlyn gasped.
Yancy scrambled up from the floor, his face dark with irritation. "What the hell are you screaming about this early in the morning? Are you seeing a ghost?"
"If there's a ghost here, it's you," Quinlyn shot back, eyeing his deathly pale face. "Halloween's months away, no need to start method acting your undead role this early."
Yancy rolled his eyes at her. "Because I want to," he retorted, his voice hoarse.
Quinlyn said thoughtfully, "Pulled an all-nighter? What's up—finally realized you can't beat me, so you're thinking about repeating senior year?"
"Even if I took the test blindfolded, I'd still outscore you," Yancy scoffed, waving her off. "Now that you're up, go eat downstairs. You've got a packed schedule, so finish breakfast and get to class."
With that, he turned and headed back to his room. But as he reached the door, he hesitated, and then muttered, "Whatever, I'm hungry too. Let's eat together."
Quinlyn teased him, "Your face tells a different story." It wasn't saying, "I'm hungry"—more like, "If I don't get some sleep now, I'm going to drop dead."
Yancy scoffed, "You think a man's face tells you everything?"
Quinlyn couldn't be bothered to argue with him. 'Who knows what he'd been up to last night—maybe sneaking out for a secret rendezvous, or...' Her thoughts trailed off. She said, "Wait, did you camp outside my door all night?"
Yancy's expression flickered with awkwardness before he clicked his tongue dismissively. "You are not dead, and your funeral is not being held here. Why would I camp outside your door?"