Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 56: Piece Of Shit

Cyran’s eyes lit up. "It’s similar but better. I like it! We should use it."

Eira chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Alright then, Rebirth it is. But we’ll need to figure out how to present it in a way that stands out—something bold but meaningful."

Cyran nodded, his expression already contemplative. "We could incorporate elements of transformation—like a phoenix or the changing seasons. Something that shows growth through struggle."

Eira tilted her head thoughtfully. "I like the idea of a phoenix, but maybe we should try something else. Something that not only represents rebirth but also symbolizes resilience and new beginnings. Like a painting of two mirrored worlds—one desolate and dark, the other bright and flourishing—with someone moving from the dark world into the bright one."

Cyran’s eyes sparkled with ideas as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "That’s... incredible. The mirrored worlds. I can already see it—a contrast of colors, textures, emotions. It’s perfect."

Eira felt a small flush of pride at his reaction, realizing she could be good at things other than killing and surviving. "I thought it might add more depth. It’s not just about starting over; it’s about what you leave behind and what you strive toward."

Cyran nodded slowly, his pencil tapping against the desk as his thoughts raced. "We could use vivid, warm tones for the flourishing world—gold, orange, green—and keep the desolate side in muted grays and blues. Maybe even include small symbols, like flowers blooming on the bright side while they wither on the dark one."

"Exactly!" Eira said, excitement creeping into her voice. "And we could have the figure moving between the two worlds carrying something—maybe a light or a key—something that symbolizes their hope or strength."

Cyran’s smile deepened, his earlier tension fading as he immersed himself in their conversation. "The light could glow, like it’s spreading warmth to the bright side as they step into it. It could even connect the two worlds—a bridge of sorts."

Eira grinned, already envisioning the piece. "I love it. We could also add smaller details to make it more personal—like carvings or inscriptions on the bridge to show memories or lessons from the past."

Cyran hummed in agreement, already sketching rough outlines on his pad. "This is going to be more than just a project. It’s going to tell a story."

"And it’ll stand out," Eira said confidently.

For a moment, neither spoke as Cyran’s pencil danced across the page, sketching out ideas while Eira stood by, offering suggestions. The stormy landscape he’d been working on earlier now seemed distant, almost forgotten, replaced by something brighter and more inspiring.

Cyran glanced up at Eira, his gaze soft. "I’m glad you came here early."

Eira blinked, surprised by the sudden sentiment. "Why?"

He smiled, this time reaching his eyes. "Because I needed this—a reminder that there’s always a brighter side, even if you can’t see it yet."

Eira didn’t know what to say, so she simply nodded, her own smile lingering. Then, the sound of her phone ringing interrupted the moment. Eira sighed, pulling it out of her pocket. The screen flashed with Malia’s name.

Smiling, Eira answered the call, but before she could say anything, Malia’s voice came from the other end.

"Where are you guys? We just arrived, and we didn’t see you or Cyran in class."

Eira exchanged a glance with Cyran, who raised a brow, silently asking what Malia was saying. She held up a finger, signaling for him to wait. "We’re in the art room, brainstorming ideas for our project."

"You’ve started already? Anyway, we’re coming." The call ended, and Eira shook her head.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket, glancing over at Cyran, who had paused mid-sketch.

"Malia and Orla are on their way," she informed him.

Eira chuckled, leaning over to look at the rough sketch Cyran had made. The mirrored worlds were taking shape—the desolate side sharp and cold, the flourishing side vibrant and warm. Even in its early stages, the drawing already captured the concept beautifully.

"This is amazing, Cyran," she said softly. "You’ve brought it to life so quickly."

He glanced at her, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. "It’s easier when you’ve got a good idea and a smart partner to work with."

The sound of voices echoing down the hallway interrupted them, signaling the arrival of Malia and Orla.

"Don’t tell me you’ve already started drawing!" Malia’s dramatic tone filled the room as she and Orla entered. "We haven’t even decided on a theme! Come on."

Cyran chuckled at her exasperation. "Maybe if you two spent less time bickering and more time brainstorming, you’d be caught up by now."

Malia narrowed her eyes at him. "Excuse me, the teacher gave us a week! It’s only been a day. There’s nothing wrong with taking our time deciding, but there is something wrong with you already sketching." She turned to Eira. "Seriously though, slow down! How are we supposed to keep up if you two are halfway done?"

Eira chuckled, stepping aside so Malia and Orla could see Cyran’s sketch. "We’re not halfway done; this is just a rough sketch. What do you think?"

Malia crossed her arms, studying the drawing with a furrowed brow. Orla leaned closer, scanning the intricate lines and emerging contrasts.

"This is..." Malia paused before grudgingly admitting, "actually really good." She turned to Cyran, her tone sharp but teasing. "Still rude of you to get a head start. The rest of us mortals need time to think."

Cyran grinned. "Don’t worry, Malia. You and Orla can always do stick figures if it gets too hard."

"Cyran!" Malia scolded, though she couldn’t suppress a laugh.

Eira shook her head, smiling at their banter. "You guys still have time to come up with something equally meaningful. Besides, we haven’t even finalized all the details yet. Right, Cyran?"

"True," he agreed, though his smile remained. "But I’d like to see them try and top this."

Malia rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed a chair and plopped down beside Orla. "Fine, show-offs. Let’s hear the rest of your brilliant plan so we know what we’re up against."

Eira raised an eyebrow, glancing at Cyran. "Should we tell them?"

He shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. "Sure, why not?"

Eira leaned forward, her voice teasing. "It’s all about rebirth and resilience. The figure moving between the worlds carries a light—hope, strength, or maybe both. The desolate world represents struggle, and the flourishing one shows what’s possible if you don’t give up."

Orla nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "That’s really beautiful. I like how it tells a story without needing words."

Malia, however, groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Ugh, it’s so good it’s annoying. Why do you two have to be so creative?"

Eira laughed, crossing her arms. "Just focus on your project, Malia. You might surprise yourselves."

Malia peeked at her from between her fingers, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "Fine. But if we win, you owe me snacks for a month."

Cyran laughed, his pencil already moving again. "If you win, I’ll personally deliver them to your house."

"Deal," Malia shot back, leaning into Orla’s side. "Thank goodness we have the whole morning as free time to brainstorm. Orla, we need something brilliant—like yesterday."

Orla hummed softly, "Mm."

Eira smiled at them while Malia sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over Orla’s shoulder. "Fine. But if we end up doing stick figures, it’s on you for being so talented it’s intimidating."

Just then, voices came from outside the art room, and the door opened. They all turned to see Alan walking toward them—toward Eira, to be exact—his expression angry.

Eira coldly stared at the figure approaching her, internally smiling.

Alan stormed into the room, his eyes blazing as they locked onto Eira, who stood calmly by Cyran’s side, unfazed by his arrival. She had expected him to come looking for her.

"Ephyra, I need to talk to you. Follow me."

Immediately, Malia stood up. "Excuse me. Ephyra is not a child to be ordered around like that," she said, her tone sharp as she crossed her arms and glared at Alan.

Eira held up a hand, signaling Malia to stand down. Her expression remained calm, though her eyes held a trace of frost. "It’s alright, Malia," she said, her voice steady. "I’ll hear him out."

Cyran frowned, his pencil pausing mid-sketch. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low.

Eira glanced at Cyran and gave him a small, reassuring smile. "It’s fine. Keep working on the sketch. I’ll be back soon."

Alan’s glare flicked to Cyran briefly before settling back on Eira. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing, waiting for her to follow him.

Eira moved with calmness, brushing past Alan as she exited the room. She could feel his presence behind her, practically radiating tension. Once they were far enough from the art room, she stopped, turning to face him with a smile that grated on Alan’s nerves.

"What can I do for you? Oh, right—did you like the surprise I sent? It was better than yours, wasn’t it?"

Alan’s fists clenched at her taunting words, his face a mix of frustration, fury, and unease. "What the hell are you trying to pull, Ephyra?" he hissed, his voice low but sharp. "Sending those men back to me? Are you out of your mind?"

Eira tilted her head, her smile widening as if she were amused by his outburst. "Oh, Alan," she said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "You really should be thanking me. After all, I made sure they were returned in one piece. Wouldn’t want you to lose your valuable investments, would we?"

His jaw worked furiously, and he grabbed both of her arms in a crushing grip, but Eira simply let him.

"You are so despicable. After everything you did to Myra, you still had to make her suffer. I didn’t want to do anything, but when Myra told me all the punishment she had to endure because of your lies, I was so angry I hired men to make you go through what Myra did. I hated you, but I never thought of doing anything worse. Now I see I was a fool for having mercy. I don’t know what happened, but after your accident, you’ve not only become a different person but worse than you were."

As soon as he finished talking, Eira burst into laughter. She laughed for a moment, then suddenly gripped Alan’s hand and twisted it. She grabbed him by the neck and pushed him backward until he hit the wall with a thud. Then she punched him in the stomach, causing him to double over with a grunt of pain.

Eira leaned closer, her icy gaze locking onto his. Her voice dropped to a low, menacing tone. "You disgusting piece of shit. You sent a bunch of low-life thugs after me—to intimidate me? Hurt me? You thought I’d be cowering in fear right now, didn’t you?"

She took a step closer to him. "Let me make something clear to you: I’m not the same naive Ephyra you used to toy with. If you ever try something like that again, if you so much as breathe in a way that irritates me—you’ll wish this little ’gift’ of mine was the worst thing I could do."

Alan gasped, struggling to stand upright, his face pale. "You’re insane," he muttered, his voice trembling. freewebnøvel.com

Eira smirked, tilting her head mockingly. "Insane? Maybe. Or maybe you’ve just been too comfortable, thinking I’d never push back. Guess what, Alan? The game’s changed."

She stepped back, releasing his collar with a deliberate shove that sent him stumbling against the wall. Her cold eyes raked over him as she straightened her blazer, brushing off imaginary dust.

Alan coughed, holding his stomach as he struggled to find his footing.

Eira took a step back, her expression calm once more. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than entertain your tantrums."

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Alan to catch his breath and nurse his bruised pride, neck, and abdomen.

As she re-entered the art room, Malia and Cyran looked up, their faces filled with concern.

"Are you okay?" Malia asked, rushing over.

Eira smiled faintly, her voice steady. "I’m fine. Just had to deal with some... unfinished business."

Cyran raised an eyebrow, his gaze searching her face. "Are you sure? You seem—"

"I’m fine," Eira repeated, her tone firmer this time. Then, softening, she added, "Let’s focus on our project, alright? Alan isn’t worth the time."

Malia huffed. "He better not bother you again. Next time, I won’t hold back."

Eira chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement. "I’ll hold you to that, Malia."