Transmigrated Into The True Heiress

Though their schedules said they had a class, it seemed no one was in the mood to attend. Excitement still lingered in the air from the earlier presentation, and some classmates had already disappeared, likely deciding they deserved a break. Eira and the others exchanged knowing glances before following the growing tide of students streaming out of the classroom, clearly abandoning any pretense of sticking around.

Malia laughed, her voice light and carefree as she flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Come on, lectures are overrated. Life’s too short to waste on sitting around."

Cyran smirked. "Exactly. Let’s consider this... field research. Inspiration for the next masterpiece."

Orla raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that what we’re calling slacking off now? And I don’t think any of us will be doing any art project because tests are next week, and after a week, we will be having our final exam for high school."

"And don’t forget the ball," Malia added but they ignored her.

"Absolutely," Cyran replied, completely unbothered, his grin only widened. "The best art comes from life. Can’t argue with that. And we’re still going to be having an art test and exam, right?

Eira walked alongside them, her arms crossed as a faint breeze played with her hair. "If by ’life,’ you mean ’procrastination,’ then sure, Cyran. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

He glanced at her, an exaggeratedly wounded look on his face. "I expected more support from my partner in artistic glory. And in case you forgot... everyone is skipping class. Even you, Ephyra."

Eira rolled her eyes while Malia grinned, "Right? Who would have thought? We’d turn the two best students in our class into rebels," she teased, nudging Eira playfully. "It’s a historic moment. Someone should write this down."