Ch. 51 - Stirring the Pot

"Chill, I’m not that senior who freaked you out. I’m not here to hurt you," I said quickly, trying to calm her down. No way was I letting her lump me in with that creep.

I wasn't like that. I was just here for the show.

"I don’t buy it! Nobody from Witch School is any good!" she snapped.

Her words stung, but I could tell my attempt at reassurance had landed, at least a little. She seemed to get that I wasn’t the one who’d messed with her before.

Her tone wasn’t as fiery now, though her eyes still screamed suspicion.

"Don’t say that. I’m a freshman, just started a couple of days ago. No need to be scared—I’m pretty much like you. I’m not gonna do anything," I said, keeping my voice steady.

I took a cautious step toward her, watching for any sign she’d lose it. She didn’t. Good. She had some sense left.

"You… you’re a freshman too?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

Her guarded stare still sized me up like I was some kind of monster.

"Yup, that’s right," I said with a nod.

"Then… you’re also—"

"Also what?" I cut in, letting a teasing grin slip into my voice. Her eyes darted away, and I couldn’t help but think how fun this was.

"Nothing…" she mumbled, shutting down the question.

"Alright, if it’s nothing, mind if I ask…" I leaned in closer, eyeing her disheveled state. I knew exactly what she’d been about to say, and I wasn’t about to let this moment slip.

"Ask what?" she said, her defenses up, her unease written all over her face.

That mix of nerves and fear, paired with her embarrassed, vulnerable look—it was almost too much. She was clinging to her pride, but the contradiction was driving me wild.

"You were… a guy, right?" I said slowly, each word deliberate.

Her gaze flickered, dodging mine, then briefly meeting it before skittering away again. I could practically see her squirm. Time to turn up the heat.

"I—"

"Shh." I pressed a finger to my lips, cutting her off. Whatever she was about to say didn’t matter.

People hide their secrets instinctively. I’d called out the thing she cared about most, even if it was obvious. But I didn’t make her say it out loud.

There was a difference between spelling it out and leaving that last veil in place. It was a subtle nudge. If she picked up on it, even a tiny bit, and started to accept things as they were, she’d follow my lead and let it go—for now.

From there, it was my game. Once that first spark of resistance faded, she’d start to bend, bit by bit, forced to adapt to this place.

The slow slide into surrender was so delicious, and I was right at the tipping point—where her mind was wrestling hardest between fighting back and giving in.

I watched her face, knowing I needed to fan the flames a bit more. I wanted her to frame this moment as a "secret" in her mind. Once that idea took root, her resistance would stay bottled up, hidden from the world.

Self-suppression was as brutal as self-sabotage.

The secret wasn’t the main driver, but it was the final straw that could break her.

What was wrong with tipping the scales a bit for my own amusement?

"Witch School’s an all-girls academy, you know. Do you really want everyone finding out your real gender and side-eyeing you for the rest of your life?" I said, locking eyes with her.

"Life here’s gonna be long, and you can’t exactly break out of this cage…" I spoke fast, cutting off any chance for her to argue back. My tone carried an edge of urgency, like I was genuinely worried for her.

I caught her hesitating, her words catching in her throat. The chaos was still mine to control. Guess she wasn’t as tough as I’d feared.

"Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Our little secret," I said, standing up, pleased with the results of my verbal barrage.

It worked pretty well. My delivery could’ve used some polish—still a bit rough around the edges—but it got the job done.

I untied my witch’s cloak and handed it to her. Her clothes were a mess, barely holding together. If she kept going like that, they’d give out completely.

Like me, her chest hadn’t changed much after the whole witchification thing. No real curves to speak of. But those pale, exposed legs? They were something… well, minus the scrapes ruining the view. Anyway, that was the gist.

Her long hair was a tangled mess. She clearly wasn’t used to it, brushing it back to clear her vision, but it still looked wild.

"Thanks…" she muttered softly.

Her gratitude hit me like a rush. The irony of it all was just too good.

Here I was, stirring the pot, throwing in a little manipulation, and after some light reassurance, she was thanking me? Was there anything more entertaining than this?

Probably, but I was having a blast.

"You okay to stand?" I asked, my voice threaded with just enough concern, balanced with a deliberate hint of distance. I kept it perfectly calibrated, the kind of vibe I’d be cool with in her shoes.

She didn’t seem too rattled. Getting too close would’ve been too much for her right now—she was still on edge.

After all, I hadn’t told her I’d been a guy too. Sharing that might’ve built some camaraderie—misery loves company—but it could’ve also made her think I was some kind of weirdo and push me away. Best to keep my mouth shut.

The upper hand was still mine.

"I’m fine. Thanks," she said, taking the cloak. She didn’t put it on, though. From her perspective, she was accepting help from another girl. Her guy brain was probably wrestling with whether to wear a girl’s clothes, even if it was just a cloak.

"No need for thanks—that’s too formal. Come on, put it on. You don’t think those clothes are fit for walking around, do you?" I said, pushing to build a bond. With the "secret" in play, it was easy to pull her closer, make her feel connected.

I was crafting this dynamic on purpose. She thought we were getting chummy, but it was all one-sided.

I had no clue what was really going through her head, but her reactions were exactly what I’d hoped for.

"Um…" she mumbled.

"Oh, by the way, I’m Yang Yuehan. What’s your name?" I asked straight-up. No need to fake a name to mess with her.

"I’m… Quan Xiuzhu," she said, caught off guard but sharing anyway after a brief pause.

"Quan Xiuzhu… cool name. You planning to stick with it? If anyone from your past is at the academy, they might recognize it," I teased, keeping the pressure on.

"No, no need to change it. It’s fine. And… there’s no way anyone I know is at Witch School…" Her voice dripped with a quiet sadness, like she was reliving something heavy.

"Don’t get all down about it. What’s done is done. You’re here now, so make the best of it. If you need help, just hit me up," I said, flashing a small smile. I wasn’t done with this little game of mine.

Meeting her like this was pure luck, and I wasn’t about to let it go to waste.

Translator's note: Xiuzhu means "long, slender bamboo."

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