Accidentally Provoked My Archenemy [ABO] - Chapter 18

But clearly, Cheng Yunan wasn’t going to listen.

His jaw clenched involuntarily, breath coming heavy and fast. He stared at her, his eyes a swirl of emotions too tangled to unravel.

Sang Yu couldn’t read him.

Silence settled thick in the air after she stopped speaking.

She saw Cheng Yunan shut his eyes tightly, then reopen them. He looked calmer, but for some reason, she could sense that emotionally, he’d reached a breaking point.

He looked at her, as if suppressing something deep inside, and after a long pause, his lips parted. His voice trembled as he asked:

“Sang Yu, what right do you have to say these things?”

“Just because you marked me—temporarily? Just because you turned me from an Alpha into a weak, useless Omega? I even lost my eligibility to properly enter the Imperial Military Academy.”

“I was supposed to stand here with pride. But now, I have to pour everything I have into keeping up this disguise. I can’t afford a single mistake. If I slip, everything I’ve worked for will disappear in an instant.”

“You must be thrilled.”

“All of this—every bit of it—is because of you. You turned me into an Omega. You triggered my susceptibility into a full-blown heat. And now you show up playing the savior, pretending to feel sorry for me, offering to help.”

“What gives you the right?”

Every word he spoke was something buried deep in his heart—now surfacing as pain laced with bitterness. Things he had never said out loud. But now, he laid them bare, using harsh and anguished words to throw it all at her feet.

By the end, his nails had dug into his palms. Only the pain reminded him to keep a sliver of control, to stay grounded.

But it was too hard.

The final few words came out jagged, every syllable forced, trembling, and Sang Yu could hear the faint edge of a sob buried beneath them.

She hadn’t expected things to unravel like this.

She’d thought his answer would only go one way—agreement.

After all, this solution could eliminate so many of Cheng Yunan’s future problems. She had even prepared herself to be extorted—money, reputation, power—she had considered what she was willing to give.

Even if his demands were excessive, she’d find a way to meet them.

But this outcome left her momentarily at a loss.

She really was just worried about him.

She said as much—but in response, she heard a short, sharp laugh that sounded half-mocking, half-angry.

Then he asked quietly,

“Sang Yu, from what position are you worrying about me?”

“Do you think I need your concern?”

She didn’t respond, so he kept going, his tone laced with bleak bitterness:

“Concern from the person who bullied and humiliated me—do you think I want it?”

“Sang Yu, if you were me, would you want it?”

“Would you?”

Sang Yu fell completely silent.

She knew every word he said was true. Most of the pain in his life had stemmed from her actions. Now, anything she did for him would feel like charity.

But Cheng Yunan didn’t want pity.

Just like he never asked for help from anyone. He had made it here relying solely on himself—just a B-rank Alpha with no backing or connections.

She didn’t know what else to say.

It felt like no matter what she said, it would only come off as mockery.

After a long moment, she slowly looked up at his pale face, then quietly picked up the items she’d laid out and packed them back into the sealed pouch.

Rising to her feet, she gave him one final glance, then turned to leave.

But after only a few steps, Cheng Yunan’s voice rang out behind her.

“Sang Yu, I won’t let you off.”

“I will make you pay. Everything you did to me—I’ll give it back to you. Every last bit.”

His tone was laced with a ferocity Sang Yu had never heard from him before. She didn’t look back, only nodded slightly and said:

“I hope you’ll give it some thought. The conditions are negotiable.”

Then she left without hesitation.

Once the door auto-locked behind her, Cheng Yunan finally exhaled—and collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

His entire body was freezing. He reached for the thin blanket and pulled it tightly around himself, covering even his face. On the surface of the blanket, faint reddish marks remained—traces from where his hand had brushed.

But the blanket wouldn’t stop trembling.

If one listened closely, they could hear muffled, stifled sobs—painful and full of despair.

—

After returning from Cheng Yunan’s dorm, Sang Yu felt a deep discomfort. She couldn’t describe it precisely—just a tightness in her chest that wouldn’t go away.

She shoved the sealed pouch to the back of her cabinet just as a communication alert popped up.

The moment she answered it, Gu Amo’s excited voice came through:

“Sang-jie!”

“Our class placements are out! You’re in Imperial Class One—I’m in Class Seven!”

“Mm,” Sang Yu replied softly, shutting the cabinet. She clapped the dust off her hands—even though there wasn’t any—and turned down the volume on her terminal. Her tone was calm, without much emotion.

The Imperial Military Academy followed a four-year program. As incoming students, they were placed into classes by rank, just like previous years.

There were typically three tiers.

Class One through Ten were top-tier—students with the highest combat potential. Classes Eleven through Twenty-Five were mid-tier, and the rest were considered the bottom.

Historically, students placed in Class One in their first year often became future stars in the military or political arenas. Even the rest of the first-tier students usually returned with solid achievements.

So, when Gu Amo saw he had made it into Class Seven, he was thrilled and called Sang Yu right away.

But to her, it had all been expected.

Still, placements weren’t final.

The Academy valued strength above all. The first year was standardized—everyone studied the same foundational courses. This gave students, especially those yet to differentiate, a buffer period.

By the second year, students would choose their tracks and begin to specialize.

At that point, the talented, ambitious, and powerful would rise to the top—everyone would find their place and shine.

Sang Yu’s pale fingers tapped unconsciously against her desk. She pressed her tongue against her back molars and decided to check the school’s official website.

Ending the call, she pulled up the homepage. Announcements scrolled across the top, and she immediately spotted the class placement list.

She clicked it without hesitation, paused, then scrolled straight to the bottom—she remembered Cheng Yunan’s B-rank.

Her finger moved quickly past line after line of names. Sure enough, she found his name soon enough.

He had been assigned to Class Thirty-Seven.

This year, about six thousand new students had enrolled. There were forty-five classes in total—roughly 130 students per class. Cheng Yunan’s name sat squarely in the middle of his class list.

So, it really was just a gender-falsification injection—one advanced enough to avoid detection by school scanners.

Sang Yu scrolled up and down the list, reviewing the other names in his class. Most of them she remembered seeing in the Academy’s public admission list.

Her brows furrowed.

At the Imperial Academy, about 60% of students were from powerful families on the Central Star. Another 30% came from other wealthy or politically influential star systems. The remaining 10%? Students admitted for… other reasons.

That included—but wasn’t limited to—wealth, family prestige, or sheer talent. But those truly admitted on merit alone were rare.

Rare enough that during the initial placement, the Academy typically lumped all of them into the same bottom-tier classes.

The “worst” classes.

Many of these students were just here to pad résumés. Some lacked control over their pheromones. Some were dangerous. Some didn’t know restraint.

Cheng Yunan belonged to that rare few within the bottom 10%.

He had nothing.

No power. No status.

Staring at the class roster, Sang Yu could barely picture how he would survive the coming years. She rubbed her temples and backed out of the page, intending to let the matter rest for now—only for her finger to accidentally click on a small link in the corner.

It led to several hot, red-highlighted forum threads:

【Let’s Spill the Drama: Empire Class 1’s Power Players (Romance Edition – Sang vs. Bai)】

Wait a second… Was this the Academy’s forum?