Addicted to you
Chapter 86: Provoked

Chapter 86: Provoked

It was lunch break when the class monitor suddenly called out, "Yeri Zhi, the Dean’s office asked for you."

Yeri, halfway through peeling an orange, paused. A slight frown tugged at her brows. "The Dean?"

The class monitor only shrugged. "That’s what I was told."

Suppressing a sigh, Yeri stood up and dusted off her skirt. Whatever this was, she had a bad feeling. Her instincts, honed by years of dodging school drama and shady dorm gossip rarely failed her.

By the time she reached the Dean’s office, her feeling had upgraded from mildly annoyed to ’should’ve skipped lunch entirely.’

The door clicked shut behind her, and Yeri was met with a stare so venomous it could trigger the police alarm.

Across the office, Tiffany Rhian sat stiffly, her body covered in bandages. Her right arm was in a cast, and bruises dotted her otherwise flawless face. One cheek still looked swollen, puffed slightly as she tried and failed to keep a composed expression.

Beside her sat another girl. Yeri couldn’t remember her name as always, but she recognized the face. Backup Mouth #2. The loyal sidekick who always parroted whatever nonsense Tiffany spewed.

Unlike Tiffany, Backup #2 looked worse. One eye was an angry black-and-blue, her neck strapped with a medical brace, and both cheeks were swollen like she’d lost a round with a beehive.

Yeri blinked.

Then blinked again.

’Wow,’ she thought. ’Now I kinda regret leaving so quickly. That must’ve been one hell of a catfight.’

She glanced around. Backup Mouth #1 was nowhere to be seen. Then she remembered the whispers in the dorms, about the girl named Cherry who got her face slashed and was supposedly still in the hospital.

Cherry, was it? So she’s Backup Mouth #1...

"You—why do you..." Tiffany spluttered, eyes wide with disbelief. The unspoken question was practically radiating from her bruised face: Why do you look completely fine?

After all, the three of them clearly remembered beating Yeri within an inch of her life that day. They’d slapped her, pulled her hair, and kicked her for good measure. And now here she was, not a single visible bruise, fresh-faced and calm, not even a limp in sight.

Yeri raised a brow at Tiffany’s puffy cheek as she tried to talk and had to bite her lower lip to stop herself from laughing.

The swelling made Tiffany look like she was hoarding something in one cheek, like a hamster who lost its dignity in battle.

"Dean, you called me?" Yeri said softly, as though she hadn’t just been silently evaluating the damage on her former attackers.

The Dean, a middle-aged man whose forehead had clearly seen better days, let out a sigh and gestured to the seat across from him. "Yes, sit down."

She did.

"You must be aware of the incident involving your classmates in the restroom. Tiffany here claims you were the one who started the fight."

Yeri tilted her head. "Me?"

Before she could offer any polite denial, Tiffany lurched forward and pointed at her with unmasked outrage.

"She’s a mistress, Dean! Shameless! Seducing my boyfriend, creeping around like a snake, she planned everything! With so many admirers she still targeted my boyfriend, really a snake!"

"Tiffany!" the Dean barked. "You’re on school grounds and in my office. Behave yourself."

But Tiffany Rhian, arrogant and spoiled to the bone, was never one to take a scolding quietly.

"Dean, are you blind?! Look at us! Cherry’s still in the hospital! What’s the point of investigating anything when our injuries couldn’t be more obvious? And look at this pretentious bitch! Not even a scratch!"

The Dean closed his eyes briefly, clearly holding back the urge to massage his temples. "Watch your mouth. And stop using derogatory terms."

He opened a folder and tapped on a paper. "We’ve reviewed the surveillance footage and taken statements from the two teachers who arrived at the scene. According to them, the three of you were still fighting when they arrived. Yeri was already gone."

He looked pointedly at Tiffany. "Even if Yeri had instigated something, are you suggesting she managed to beat all three of you... and walked away unscathed?"

Tiffany was taken aback. She stammered, then stomped her foot in frustration like a toddler denied candy.

It was no secret that Yeri Zhi was frail, often seen as the soft-spoken, sickly girl who rarely raised her voice. For anyone to believe she initiated a violent fight and managed to overpower three girls? Absurd.

Besides, Tiffany couldn’t possibly admit their real plan, to disfigure Yeri’s face out of petty jealousy.

Seeing Yeri’s face now, still beautiful, still untouched, was like rubbing salt into a fresh wound. Her blood boiled.

If glares could kill, Yeri would’ve been on fire the moment she walked through the door with Tiffany’s burning gaze.

Perhaps in Tiffany’s imagination, she had already murdered her in thirty different scenarios with twenty more queued for next week.

"I’ve heard both of you," the Dean said dryly. "Now I want to hear Yeri’s side."

Yeri nodded politely. "That afternoon, I realized I forgot my power bank, so I went back to class and then stopped by the restroom. That’s when Tiffany and her two friends cornered me. Tiffany slapped me—"

"Lies!" Tiffany shrieked, suddenly grabbing a softbound book off the Dean’s desk and hurling it at Yeri.

It hit her squarely in the chest.

Yeri gasped, not from pain, but sheer surprise.

The Dean slammed his palm on the table, looking at Tiffany as if she was a shrew. "Tiffany Rhian! Do you want to be expelled?!"

Tiffany froze mid-rage, looking like a balloon about to burst from too much hot air.

"I—Dean, you’re being biased!" she cried. "I want to call my parents! Let them get justice for me!"

Meanwhile, Backup Mouth #2 remained silent, shrinking further into her seat. Her eyes darted to Yeri, pale and shaken.

She remembered it clearly... yanking Yeri’s hair, the slap, even the kick to the stomach.

’So how...’ she thought, ’how did it end with just the three of us fighting each other?’

She had seen the hallway surveillance. Yeri had left the restroom early. The rest was a blur of chaos. Screaming, slapping, flailing limbs... and pain. A lot of it.

The more she thought about it, the more horrified she felt.

On the other end of the room, Yeri gently patted her chest where the book had landed. Her lips quivered, her eyes glistened.

Acting, right? She can do that too.

"Dean," Yeri said softly, voice trembling just enough to evoke sympathy without crossing into melodrama. "I... I didn’t want to say anything before, but Tiffany often bullies me. What happened in the restroom wasn’t the first time."

"You—are you tired of living?!" Tiffany exploded, launching from her chair. "Bitch! Just because you’re sick, did you think I wouldn’t touch you? Bully you? At that time, I just wanted to know why you had to be such a shameless mistress! Is there no other guy you could seduce?!"

Again. Mistress? Yeri blinked.

They were still in high school, yet Tiffany was speaking like a woman scorned in a tragic romance film, fighting for custody and property. Her tone, her expression, it was more fitting for an overworked housewife slapping her husband’s alleged lover at a court hearing.

"Tiffany, this is my final warning!" the Dean snapped, slamming his palm against the desk again.

His gaze darted to the intercom. Without hesitation, he pressed the button and instructed the secretary, "Please call in the two teachers who were present during the restroom incident."

Looking between Yeri, who seemed like she might faint at any second and Tiffany who looked like she might launch herself across the room and start another fight, the Dean realized he needed backup before this devolved into a second restroom brawl. Only this time, in his very office.

Children from wealthy families were always a handful. But if someone got hurt in his office, the board wouldn’t blame the students, they’d blame him for not handling it well, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

These weren’t just students, they were children of power. Brats with lawyers on speed dial and parents who thought throwing money around equaled parenting.

He sat back and exhaled slowly, internally counting down the years until retirement.

Once the two teachers arrived, a momentary peace settled in the room. Tiffany quieted down, if only because she now had two more adult witnesses glaring at her.

Yeri recounted her version of events, voice steady, calm. She didn’t cry, didn’t plead. She just told the truth or rather, the part of the truth that made her look like the clear victim.

Both teachers nodded along, backing her statement. By the time they rushed in after Yeri’s report, they heard shouting and it was just the three girls...Tiffany, Cherry, and the second backup brawling like wild animals.

It was going well. Until Backup Mouth #2 finally spoke.

She shifted in her chair and bowed her head slightly. "Actually... Tiffany and Brother Marco had a fight because of Yeri. Tiffany was emotional at that time and just wanted to confront her."

Yeri blinked.

Backup #2 continued, "But Yeri insulted her first... and then accused us of being involved with Brother Marco too. That’s what made everything escalate. She provoked us."

Yeri’s head tilted slightly. ’Oh? So this one has some brain cells after all.’

She’d never really looked closely at this girl. She always assumed she was just another spoiled minion, blindly following Tiffany’s orders.

But this? This was strategy. A well-crafted lie with just enough truth sprinkled in to sound plausible.

It was almost admirable, if it wasn’t so spineless.

There were no CCTV cameras inside the restroom. And if Backup #2 insisted that Yeri instigated the whole thing, what evidence did Yeri have to refute it?

"That’s right!" Tiffany quickly chimed in, as if regaining her senses. "Dean, I know I was wrong to react emotionally, but she provoked us! Look at us now, look at our state! You all think Yeri’s this quiet, behaved student, but I’m telling you, her mind is very evil!" _{fr\eewebno vel .c(o)m}

Yeri stared blankly. "..."