Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 81: Unhinged

Half an hour later, the tests started. All the classrooms went quiet as everyone settled into their seats, watching as the teacher came in, followed by an assistant carrying a stack of test papers. The tension in the room was palpable as the teacher placed the papers on the desk and addressed the class.

"Good morning, everyone. I hope you’ve all prepared adequately. Remember, this test will contribute significantly to your final grades, so take it seriously."

The assistant began distributing the papers, the faint rustle breaking the silence. Eira glanced at Cyran, who gave her a small, encouraging nod before focusing on his own desk. Malia, seated in front of Cyran, was already tapping her pencil nervously against the table.

Eira flashed a small smile at the assistant as the paper was placed in front of her. Then her gaze went to it. Their first subject was English.

Typical.

Her eyes scanned the questions, and a sense of calm settled over her. She had prepared for this, even if her mind felt distracted by everything that had happened.

The assistant passed out the test papers until all the students had one, and then the tests commenced.

The silence in the room deepened as everyone began writing. The only sounds were the scratching of pencils and the occasional cough. Eira focused on the test paper in front of her.

The questions were a mix of essay prompts, comprehension passages, and grammar corrections. Eira’s hand moved steadily as she wrote, her thoughts flowing smoothly. She had spent enough nights revising for this to feel confident, even if the pressure of exams always loomed.

Halfway through the test, she glanced up briefly. Cyran was hunched over his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration. Malia, on the other hand, looked like she was waging an internal battle with every question. Eira resisted the urge to smile; in Ephyra’s memories, Malia always pulled through, even if her dramatic tendencies made it seem like the world was ending.

Eira’s pen paused at an essay prompt:

"Describe a situation where someone overcame a significant challenge and how it shaped their character."

For a moment, her mind wandered. The prompt struck a nerve, reminding her of her own challenges—living in someone else’s body, grappling with her identity, and navigating the complex web of secrets and mysteries surrounding the owner of the body. She shook the thoughts away, focusing instead on crafting a fictional story that fit the question.

Time passed in a blur, and the teacher finally called out, "Fifteen minutes left."

The announcement sent a ripple of urgency through the room. Eira reviewed her answers, correcting a few errors and adding more detail where she could. Then she dropped her pen and placed her head on the desk.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the test, a collective sigh of relief swept through the class. The assistant began collecting the papers as students stretched and exchanged tired glances.

"How did it go?" Cyran asked as they filed out of the classroom.

"Not bad," Eira replied, her tone casual. "You?"

Cyran grinned. "I think I nailed it, but I won’t jinx myself."

Malia groaned behind them. "If I have to write one more essay, I’m going to implode. Why can’t tests be multiple-choice and stress-free?"

"Because life isn’t stress-free," Orla quipped as she joined them.

The group chuckled as they made their way to the courtyard for a long break before the next test. The atmosphere was lighter now, students chatting and comparing answers. Eira found herself relaxing, even as she mentally prepared for the next subject.

---

The rest of the week passed in a cycle of tests, long breaks, the students chatter which consisted of them making plans for the banquet and lastly, the uneasy feeling she’d been having since the morning of the assembly.

A feeling of being watched. Eira knew the feeling too well because if there were two things she learned as an assassin, it was to trust her guts and trust her instincts.

The unease settled into her bones, making her hyper aware of her surroundings. It wasn’t just paranoia; there were small signs—shadows moving where they shouldn’t, fleeting glimpses of someone in the distance when she turned a corner, and the weight of eyes lingering on them longer than was natural.

And she always felt it whenever she was together with Malia, Orla and Cyran which made Eira believe that she wasn’t the target but one of her friends which didn’t make it any better.

By the time Friday evening rolled around, the group was exhausted but relieved to have made it through the week.

They were walking towards the parking lot of the cafe where they usually have their evening study session in preparation for the finals which they’d just finished, when Eira felt it again.

She was on her phone, Cyran and Malia were busy arguing about an answer from the test, their voices lighthearted, Orla was on her phone too, disinterested in their arguments.

The feeling was stronger this time and just as she wanted to turn around, someone grabbed her arm and spun her around.

Surprised, she stared at Myra who was glaring at her.

"Myra?" Malia called from behind Eira, her voice laced with surprise and displeasure.

"What the hell are you doing here, Myra?" Eira asked as she crossed her arms but Myra’s words will make her go still.

The intensity of Myra’s gaze bore into Eira, her finger trembling as she pointed accusingly. "Tell me, you’re not Ephyra, are you? Tell me!" she demanded, stepping closer, her voice sharp with desperation.

Eira narrowed her eyes but didn’t flinch. Behind her, Malia’s voice rose in irritation. "What the hell are you talking about, Myra? Have you lost your mind?"

Myra’s head snapped toward Malia, her expression twisting in anger. "Shut up, Malia! This isn’t about you. It’s between me and her!"

Malia stepped forward, her hands balled into fists. "You’re insane, Myra. You’ve officially lost it! Ephyra is your sister, but you’re too obsessed with your nonsense to even remember that!"

"Shut up!" Myra shouted, her voice trembling with emotion. "This has nothing to do with you! Stay out of it!"

Malia bristled, ready to launch another retort, but Eira raised a hand, stepping between them. "Malia, it’s fine," she said calmly, placing a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder. "Don’t let her get to you."

Malia huffed but crossed her arms, taking a step back.

Eira turned back to Myra, her tone sharper now. "What exactly are you talking about, Myra? You’re not making any sense."

Myra’s glare didn’t waver. "At first, I didn’t believe him. Alan told me something was off about you, but I thought he was being paranoid. Then I started watching you, just like he said. And the more I watched, the more I saw it—subtle hints, small differences. You’re not Ephyra. You’re someone else."

As she spoke, Malia and Cyran exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of disbelief and concern. Cyran leaned toward Eira. "Is she serious?" he whispered, his brow furrowed.

"Completely unhinged," Malia muttered, rolling her eyes.

Myra ignored them, stepping closer to Eira, her voice growing louder with every word. "Tell me the truth! You’re not her! You’re not Ephyra! Who the hell are you?"

Eira sighed, the weariness in her expression evident. "Myra," she began, her voice steady, "you’re acting fucking crazy. Listen—"

But as she turned her head to address her, a flicker of movement caught her eye. Her sharp instincts kicked in, and the unease she’d been feeling all week flared into a full-blown alarm.

Eira’s gaze shifted beyond Myra to the rows of parked cars. For a few tense moments, she saw nothing, her senses on high alert. Then, from the shadows, she caught it again—movement. Subtle but deliberate.

Her muscles tensed as she turned back to Myra, who was still ranting. "Ephyra!" Myra screeched, her voice cutting through the air. "Don’t you dare ignore me!"

Eira’s lips parted to respond, but her focus was already elsewhere. Four figures, masked and dressed in black, emerged from the far end of the parking lot. They moved with eerie precision, keeping to the shadows, their presence unnoticed by anyone else.

Eira’s heartbeat quickened as two of them broke away, moving fast—too fast. Her trained eyes locked onto their movements. One was heading directly for Myra, the other closing in behind her.

"Myra," Eira called in a low, warning tone, but the other girl was too lost in her fury to notice.

The figure advancing on Myra struck with brutal efficiency, but Eira reacted just in time. She grabbed Myra’s arm and yanked her backward. The force of the attack hit Myra’s shoulder, and she crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Cyran!" Malia screamed, her voice high with panic.

Behind her, Eira heard Cyran’s name leave Malia’s lips in a frantic shout. Eira spun, her instincts guiding her as she turned to deflect the blade of the masked figure behind her.

Just in time for a very familiar figure to come out and attack one of the men going towards the sisters.

Eira spared a glance at the figure to see Lance fighting off the attacker as he protected the sisters.

"Orla, get Malia out of here!" Lance shouted, his voice sharp with command.

"Cyran, follow them!" Eira yelled.

"But—" Malia protested, her voice trembling.

"Go!" Eira snapped, stepping forward to block another strike.

Orla grabbed Malia’s wrist, pulling her away despite her protests. Eira’s focus narrowed to the two masked figures in front of her, her mind racing. Myra lay unconscious at her feet, vulnerable.

Eira adjusted her stance, readying herself. These weren’t ordinary attackers. Their speed, precision, and silence marked them as trained professionals.