Since Kali, no one else had managed to steal the spotlight quite like she did.
Seeing this, the other girl stepped off the stage without protest.
Now Kali stood alone under the lights, and with the party drawing to a close, everyone in the room was convinced she’d clinched the title of Solo Queen tonight—no contest.
But then, Kali’s gaze drifted to a quiet corner, where Citrine was still happily eating.
From across the room, Kali called out, “Citrine—I’m challenging you.”
She smirked. “I heard you gave your drill instructor a hard time during orientation, even went so far as to hit him. Makes me wonder if you’re just as tough in every other way.”
Citrine, caught mid-bite, paused and frowned slightly at the sudden attention.
Ingrid, shocked, set down her snack and leaned over, whispering, “What is Kali’s problem? You don’t even know her—why is she picking a fight with you?”
The two girls faced each other under the spotlight. Down below, the students murmured, their words dripping with doubt and scorn for Citrine, but their eyes told a different story. They couldn’t help staring at her—she was just that much more beautiful than Kali, her figure leaving Kali far behind.
Before, with distance between them, the contrast wasn’t so clear. But now, side by side, one looked every inch the privileged, radiant heiress, the other… well, next to Citrine’s porcelain skin and poised elegance, Kali seemed almost like a servant girl.
Kali, burning with jealousy but determined to keep her composure, asked through gritted teeth, “What song do you want to dance to?”
Citrine’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Why, whatever you pick, I’ll pick too. Otherwise, how else can I outshine you?”
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