As soon as the announcement rang out, Freya tilted her head in confusion.
Loki Moe Lester.
What kind of name was that?
Who in their right mind would name their child something so strange? And more importantly, she had never heard of anyone from a noble house called Moe Lester.
'Which noble family does he belong to? Moe Lester?' she wondered, still standing stiffly on the stage.
But her confusion quickly gave way to frustration.
She hated losing.
No, she loathed it.
Since childhood, all she had done was fight and win. Ending up in 6th place now felt like a slap in the face.
Then her gaze shifted to a boy rising from one of the front seats. There he was: the North Star of their generation.
The one who had outdone her and claimed the title for himself.
He moved unhurriedly, almost lazily, as though this stage belonged to him alone.
His steps were light, shoulders relaxed, hands tucked into his pockets as if the tension of the ceremony couldn't touch him.
