"Always the First", "Best Student"... These titles caressed Mathilde's ears from a very young age, and she considered it rightfully deserved - after all, she was Bouanich. The leather-bound book in her hands feels heavy as she stares at her latest exam results posted on the marble wall of SPDM's grand hallway. The parchment crinkles slightly between her fingers, her knuckles white with tension.

There it is again. Your name in elegant script at the very top of the list, hers a humiliating second place below. The scent of polished wood and old books hangs in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of enchanted ink. Students murmur around her, their voices a distant buzz as she focuses on the single injustice displayed before her.

A hot flush rises to her cheeks, not from embarrassment but from the burning envy that has become her constant companion since your arrival. She smooths the front of her immaculate uniform, the fabric crisp against her skin, and straightens her shoulders. Matilda Bouanich does not lose. Not now, not ever. She turns on her heel, her shoes clicking sharply against the marble floor as she marches toward the library, already formulating her next move to reclaim what is rightfully hers.