TPCF 57

CHAPTER 57………………………………

Anita’s small voice didn’t seem to reach him. She could do nothing—only sit there, frozen, watching. Charles’s shrill screams and the pitiful way he stretched out his hands, as though trying to escape the beating, finally snapped her out of her daze.

She had to stop Rutger. If this kept up, Charles might actually die—and that would be a disaster. Yes, Charles had threatened them with the broken glass, but he hadn’t actually hurt anyone yet. If things went too far, Rutger could end up being the one in trouble.

“Stop it! That’s enough!”

When Anita shouted, Rutger finally loosened the grip he had on Charles’s collar.

“He’s out cold. That’s enough.”

“…”

He’d let go of Charles’s collar, but his other hand was still clenched in a fist, ready to strike again. Only when Anita repeated herself did his arm finally drop, the fist falling limply to his side.

Anita let out a long sigh of relief. She was still sitting on the floor from when she’d fallen earlier, and just as she started to rise—

Charles’s fingers twitched.

They groped across the marble floor, searching blindly, and then seized a shard of glass he’d dropped before. Anita saw it too late—her eyes went wide.

“Watch out!”

But by the time she cried out, it had already happened. Charles swung the glass at Rutger. Thinking his opponent unconscious, Rutger hadn’t been on guard and instinctively blocked with his hand.

“Ugh!”

Charles grinned, whispering through his teeth as he drove the glass into Rutger’s palm.

“Today’s the day you die.”

“…You crazy bastard.”

Rutger let out a short, incredulous laugh, as though unable to believe what was happening, then grimaced as pain shot through his hand.

“So, you finally came to your senses, huh? You think you can look down on me and just walk away?!”

Charles looked completely unhinged now, muttering incoherently between manic laughs.

Anita couldn’t look away. She couldn’t even scream—her mouth opened soundlessly. Frozen like a statue trapped in ice, she forced her arms to move. Her legs wouldn’t support her; they felt like water.

Blood dripped from Rutger’s hand, dark red drops splattering against the pale marble floor.

Anita crawled, dragging herself across the ground. Her stiff neck turned just enough to scan the room. Then she spotted it—a silver tray lying on the floor, dropped by a waiter who’d fled earlier. She grabbed it.

“Let’s see how long you can last,” Charles sneered.

Still hesitant to swing, Anita froze at the sound of his ugly laugh. Then she snapped. She shot to her feet and brought the tray down on Charles’s head with all her strength.

A loud crack echoed through the hall. Charles went rigid, and the glass shard fell from his hand. But Anita didn’t stop. Fueled by adrenaline, she struck him again—and again.

Charles’s body jerked like a broken puppet before finally collapsing backward. As soon as he hit the ground, Anita threw the tray aside and ran to Rutger.

“Are you okay? No—of course you’re not.”

She quickly stripped off her outer coat and wrapped it around his hands. The fabric was thin, and within seconds it was soaked through, his blood seeping into her palms. The sight drained all color from her face.

“Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

It was only when he said that, with a trace of confusion in his voice, that Anita realized she was crying. She wanted to wipe her tears away, but both her hands were pressed tightly against his wounds. So she let the tears fall.

“Charles Bennet, that bastard. I’ll kill him.”

“…What?”

Anita had been raised to believe that only the uneducated used foul language, but this time she couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Because of me, you—”

Her words dissolved into sobs. She could only repeat her apologies like a broken record.

“I’m not dead,” Rutger said quietly.

He wanted to reach up and wipe her tears, but his bloodied clothes made that impossible. Instead, he gently slipped his arm from her grasp and pulled her into his embrace. Anita buried her face against his chest.

“You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

“…”

She mumbled something he couldn’t quite catch.

“You okay?”

Just then, a high-pitched voice cut through the silence, followed by hurried footsteps. Rutger lifted his head, still holding Anita close.

The voice belonged to none other than Liliana.

“Damn it—Anita, this is my fault. I didn’t even realize Charles Bennet was going to cause trouble. It’s been so long since I made the student list—I must’ve forgotten he was even on it, so—”

She babbled nervously, but Anita didn’t respond; she was too busy clinging to Rutger, sobbing. Liliana bit her lip, then shrugged off her own coat and gently draped it over Anita’s shoulders, careful not to disturb her.

“Anita?”

“…”

“Rutger, are you all right?”

“You’ve asked me that twice now.”

His answer didn’t sound convincing. Maybe he was trying to act fine, but the sweat beading on his forehead and the pallor of his face told the truth—his injury was serious.

“What’s going on here? Why’s everyone acting like someone died?”

The clueless, almost cheerful voice drew every eye in the room toward the hallway. Edmund was strolling in, but his expression hardened when he saw Charles sprawled on the floor and Rutger’s bloodied hand wrapped in cloth. He hurried over.

“An accident?”

“Yeah…” Liliana replied weakly.

For once, Edmund didn’t try to dodge Liliana, and she didn’t flirt with him either. There was no time for that.

After hearing her brief explanation, Edmund rubbed his forehead as though it hurt and pointed toward one of the students standing idly nearby.

“You. Go get someone who can help—security at the entrance, a patrolling officer, whoever. And you two, keep an eye on that bastard. Make sure he doesn’t wake up and try anything.”

Anita wiped her tear-streaked face roughly with her sleeve. She wasn’t the one injured—she couldn’t just sit there crying like a fool. She brushed off the coat Liliana had draped over her shoulders and staggered to her feet.

“Sit down. I’ll handle things here,” Rutger said.

Her eyes filled with tears again despite her effort to hold them back.

“Come here,” he said softly.