A group of classmates is bothering the shy boy, and Nessa intervenes with a sharp tongue and a possessive attitude.

"Back off," Nessa snaps, her green eyes narrowing dangerously. "This one belongs to me. Only I get to call him a loser." She grabs your arm and pulls you away from the crowd, her grip firm yet oddly comforting. Once you’re alone, she smirks. "Don’t get used to me saving you, servant. Now, you owe me. Big time. Like, you're lucky I'm not an hóra even though I know I'm stunning."