The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 96: Pink Hair Yander Vs the Purple-Lacquered Ice Queen

The name Violet White didn’t carry much weight in our class on its own.

But in the original novel, she had a title that struck fear and admiration alike—the Purple-Lacquered Ice Queen.

It wasn’t just because of her signature hair or cold, steely gaze. It was her intensity—her absolute, unwavering dedication to Leo—that gave her that name.

She wasn’t just Leo’s childhood friend. That would’ve implied some mutual affection, a shared warmth. No, Violet was more of a playmate assigned by his father. A companion meant to entertain and accompany him, like a shadow stitched to his feet.

But Leo—arrogant as he might’ve been—never treated her like she was beneath him.

Because he saw it.

The talent.

He was the first to recognize what she was capable of. And in a world where most people judged worth by family name or social standing, that recognition meant everything to her.

Leo had given her the chance to learn the things she was hungry to master.

He gave her power—the power to make the family that discarded her sit up and regret.

He gave her a place.

A position where she couldn’t be stepped on again.

And so, to Violet, Leo wasn’t just a person. He was salvation. A god.

That’s why she was like this. That’s why she fought tooth and nail to protect him, to silence any whisper that might hurt him. Anyone who looked to use him? She cut them off before they could even try.

And now... her sharp eyes were fixed on Kiera.

Kiera, the girl whose name had been dragged through the mud only weeks ago, now being defended openly by Ryen. Not just defended—lifted up. Protected.

The two girls were bound to clash. It was inevitable.

They weren’t that different, really. Both were fierce. Loyal. Uncompromising.

But their ideals—their chosen centers of gravity—were completely opposite.

Leo and Ryen were like two stars pulling the world in different directions.

Naturally, the people orbiting them would collide.

So here I was, stuck in the middle of it.

The gym air, usually filled with the soft whir of treadmills and clinking of weights, now felt heavy. Tense.

"Why do you even care?" Nora Hayes snapped, arms folded, pink hair swaying as she stepped forward. "She’s getting her life back together. She’s not hurting anyone. Why are you so desperate to drag her down again?"

Violet didn’t flinch. Her voice came out cold, even. "Because she never apologized. She never took responsibility. She just switched sides and started smiling again, like none of it mattered. That’s not redemption. That’s manipulation."

"....And just like I said before, The actual victim is sitting right here," Nora hissed, pointing at me like I was some sort of centerpiece in a courtroom drama. "And he said he’s fine with it. So who are you to hold onto a grudge that’s not even yours?"

They both turned to me again.

And I could feel it—the weight of their expectations crashing down on my shoulders.

Thanks a lot, girls.

In the novel, Violet was always like this. Ice-cold, unforgiving, and fiercely loyal. She was terrifying, honestly. But she was also human.

Her loyalty wasn’t blind—it was chosen. And everything she was, everything she believed in, came from the one person who gave her a reason to believe in herself.

Leo.

To her, defending him wasn’t just a duty. It was personal.

But this wasn’t about Leo anymore. Not entirely.

It was about power shifting. It was about Kiera getting another chance when, in the original story, she didn’t.

It was about I’m changing the script.

And the more it changed, the more unstable everything became.

I sighed and rubbed my temple, already feeling the headache forming.

"Hey," Nora said, folding her arms and puffing her cheeks slightly, "Ryen’s always been good to you. Maybe it’s time you gave something back."

What? I stared at her, dumbfounded. What does she want me to do, donate a kidney? You don’t have to come at me like some emotional loan shark, Nora.

"’Give back’? That’s a weird way to phrase it," I muttered under my breath.

Then Violet, ever composed and sharp-tongued, spoke up. "Repayment aside, Rin, Leo sees your potential. He respects your ability. I know you’re smart enough to make the right choice... unlike some people."

She didn’t even glance at Nora when she said that—but the jab was obvious.

And now, here I was, in the middle of a battlefield with no escape route. Neither of them were backing down, and both of them had somehow pulled me into their war.

I didn’t want to choose sides. Honestly, I didn’t even want to be in the same room as either of them.

But I also knew this couldn’t go on. If I didn’t stop this now, it was going to blow up even worse—and probably involve Ryen and Leo directly.

I had to de-escalate. Now.

My eyes shifted to Violet.

She was cold, calculating, and fiercely loyal to Leo—but she wasn’t irrational. I could work with that.

"Nora, give me a second," I said gently, holding up a hand to pause her outburst. Then I turned to Violet.

"Violet, right? Just think for a moment—do you really believe Leo would be proud of what you’re doing right now?"

Her eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t speak, but her expression twitched slightly.

I pressed on. "He values discipline. Strategy. You getting into a shouting match in public over something that’s already been handled—it doesn’t reflect well on him. Or on you."

She didn’t answer, but I could tell she was thinking about it.

Good. I’d chosen the right person to start with. If I’d said something like that to Nora, she would’ve taken it as an attack on Ryen’s honor and gone full nuclear.

Violet, at least, could be reasoned with.

And I was betting everything on that.

The look on her eyes changed little and her expressions ease slightly.

With small sigh, she turned towards Nora Hayes.

"...I really don’t want to say this, but that guy is right. Leo wouldn’t approve of what I did, and I know I was acting irrational."

Violet let out a breath and lowered her eyes. "So, I apologize for my behavior earlier. And... I also apologize on behalf of my team."

"...What?"

Nora blinked, clearly stunned.

That definitely wasn’t the reaction she was expecting.

Neither was I, to be honest.

I let out a long, relieved sigh. Finally. Thank God. It’s over.

...Or at least I thought it was.

"Looks like you didn’t hear me clearly the first time," Violet said, lifting her gaze again. Her voice was firmer now, but not hostile. "Listen carefully. I won’t repeat myself. I’m apologizing for how I acted... and I’ll make sure that anyone from our group who insulted Ryen is removed."

Yeah, that happened.

Someone from Leo’s team had crossed the line and taken a jab at Ryen for defending Kiera—basically accusing him of being blinded by her sob story. The same scene had played out in the original novel, though it had taken a much longer time to get resolved back then.

Nora narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t ready to let it slide.

"...What kind of game are you playing now?" she said, her voice sharp. "Don’t think I’ll believe that so easily."

Violet’s lips tightened in mild frustration. "I’m not playing any game, Nora. Whether you believe me or not is your choice. I’m saying this because it’s the truth. Ryen’s a capable student—even Leo acknowledges that. We never intended to insult him. Maybe he’s too kind for his own good, but that’s part of what makes him admirable."

Nora clenched her jaw. "So? Just because it wasn’t your intention doesn’t mean it didn’t happen!"

"Of course. I understand that," Violet replied, surprisingly calm. "If necessary, I’ll write a formal apology. I can’t speak for Leo, but I’ll personally apologize to Ryen myself. I failed to keep my team in check, and I’ll own that."

By the way, despite how wild she could be, the pink-haired yandere—Nora—wasn’t too difficult to handle once you knew her weak point.

Just show genuine respect for Ryen, and she’d calm right down.

And judging from the way her shoulders finally dropped and the fire in her eyes dimmed just a bit... it looked like it worked.

For real this time.

No shouting, no hair-pulling, no sudden knife-shaped glints of danger.

Maybe—just maybe—I can slip out quietly now...

I took one quiet step back.

Another.

Freedom was calling.

Then—

"Where are you going?"

Nora’s voice sliced through the air like a whip.

I froze mid-step.

She wasn’t even looking at me when she said it, but that made it worse somehow.

"...It’s not over yet," she added, without even turning her head.

I sighed inwardly and trudged back to the edge of the scene.

Apparently, sainthood would have to wait a little longer.

Damn, why can’t I do anything in a peace in this world?