A/N: I got a computer! Not my computer, which is lost forevermore now (RIP), but a new one. What's important is that we'll be back to regular(ish) updates now, hehe. In celebration (?), please enjoy this Rosa-perspective chapter! :D

"Stay in your seats! And stop packing up!" barked the old professor. The white-haired, stooped man always had a scowl etched on his face, and he was almost universally hated by all the students at the Academy. "You can't go out until the clock strikes three," he snarled.

The students barely held back a groan. There was only two minutes left! And next was lunch! (Aristocrats or not, school was school, and lunch time was a favorite for most of them. They were still hungry teenagers, and the Academy's food was simply gourmet.) Besides, Professor White (for that was the white-haired professor's name, yes, very understandable) always muttered his lessons except when scolding a student (or students, as it was), which made it impossible for anyone to ever understand what he was teaching.

"All you noble sons an daughters think you're so entitled to everything. What happened to etiquette? Where are your respects for your elders?" He scowled, his shoulders hunching up even more. His beady eyes glared at each of them in turn. "When I was your age--"

The students couldn't hold back their groans in time, and the class collectively grunted.

"See! Rude, rude, rude!" he ranted. His eyes narrowed into slits under his white, bushy eyebrows. "All of you will stay back for half the lunch hour in class until I say--"

"Sir," said a clear voice from the back of the room. Everyone sharply inhaled at the exact same time, causing a brief moment of higher air pressure within the room. The braver students peeked back to see: who was it that dared to stand up against the White Dragon?!

The professor rubbed his ears (to better hear the soon-to-come mistakes of this rude student) and rubbed his eyes (to better glare at whoever it was). He leveled his daggered stare to the back of the room to find the one speaking out of turn and being extremely rude to a man of prestige sa he was. "Who are you?" he cried sharply. "Who spoke?"

The brave soldier (for so she was) held her head and hand high in the air, not an inkling of fear disrupting her holy aura. Her mouth opened in the same clear, loud voice, she answered. "Rosa Chesterfield, sir."

The students' eyes widened. Rosa Chesterfield! The commoner origin! The one who'd grammar-pwned the girls! The one who Evelyn the first year proclaimed flippable! (Was that what she'd said? They weren't quite sure. Still!) No wonder she had spoken up-- she didn't know about the rumors of the White Dragon that had haunted their dreams since their elementary years. 

Professor White drew in his white eyebrows and wrinkled his nose. He knew her from the rumors, too. Why, the professor's lounge had been awash with informationan about this new illegitimate daughter of the High Duke! He sneered, already writing her off as a fool. "And what would you like to say to us all, Miss Rosa Chesterfield?"

She stared back at him with back straight and eyes unblinking. "I thought it would benefit us all if I informed you that your lunch hours are supposed to be set apart as office hours."

"I am well aware of that fact, girl," he snapped, eyes ablaze. "What of it?"

The students around and caught in between this line of battle cowered. Their auras! Were too great! Too tense! Their sheltered lives had never seen the like of it before. The girl-- some peeked-- wasn't even shaking!

In fact, she seemed to be quite at ease, articulating things quite perfectly, indeed-- "As a professor of the Academy," she was saying now (how was she still alive under the burning eyes of the White Dragon?), "your candid choice of refusing to fulfill the expectations required by the regulations of this institution could be grounds for complaint, sir."

A few students exchanged glances at each other. What did that even mean?

"I worry, sir," she continued, "that a few untimely complaints from dissatisfied parents could potentially hurt your career here at the Academy. Which would be very unfortunate, I believe." She smiled winningly then, though her eyes (some swore by this afterwards) remained as hard as steel. "Though you must be very aware of this fact as well."

The class turned to see the professor's reaction, breaths held, half in fear and half in exhilaration. The professor had grown so red during this short but pointed speech, as eloquent as it could ever be, that his scalp seen through the thinning strands of his hair made his signature white hair look pink.

When he didn't answer for a moment, only growing redder and more mottled, the girl added, "I at the very least wouldn't want you to face any troubles, sir," and even the most slow-minded students in the class caught her emphasis on her last words. 

At that exact moment, the bell tower of the school decided to notify its surroundings of the new hour. Nobody moved a muscle as they heard the clanging bells, instead waiting, wide-eyed and silent, staring at the shaking, trembling, fuming professor in front of them.

The last clang faded away, but Professor White did not move for a good five seconds. "Fine!" he snarled, so abruptly that a few nervous students jumped. (Notably, Rosa Chesterfield did not bat a single eyelash.) "Get out of here!" he cried. "Class dismissed! Begone!"

As students scrambled up in a sudden burst of energy, he whirled around and glared at Rosa with clenched fists. "And as for you, Miss Chesterfield," he hissed, "I will not forget this."

Rosa merely smiled in return, her hands remaining folded on her table, blithely unaware of the wide-eyed glances her classmates were giving her. (They would never know, in fact, that Rosa was a good deal older than they were and had more experience dealing with irate nonsensical adults in her life despite having the same physical age as those in her classroom. That was a secret nobody here would be privy to.)

The news of Rosa Chesterfield and her act of defiance spread throughout the school like wildfire thereafter. By the end of the day, even the third-year students knew of this commoner-turned-noble who had dared to stand up against the White Dragon and had won. 

Some upperclassmen scoffed that it was just an upstart commoner acting like the unlearned, undereducated upbringing she had, reveling in their assonance¹the repetition of a vowel sound at the beginning of a series of words and burying any sort of grudging respect they had into the backs of their minds. Others thought it served the White Dragon right to have been set straight by a commoner (for so they still considered her) of all people, and thought it great fun. 

(Let it be known that one certain third-year, also known as the crown prince of the nation, shuddered at the slightest mention of her and pretended he was a bit cold to hide his fear.)

Most of her fellow first-years, however, looked to her as a sort of hero, to be seen as glorious and awe-inspiring as a God-sent savior that had saved her classmates-in-distress from the great and scary Dragon. None knew that the heroine Rosa had done it partially because the old man annoyed her, but partially also because she needed to prevent an event with a Capture Target²see: Glitcherman that could have barged into their class demanding the class to be let free. 

Well, to be honest, they didn't need to know that.

The original scenario was meant to go like this:

Drew Glitcherman Zimmerman: [Barge in] Professor White! What are you doing?!

Professor White: [Sneers] Well, well, well. What have we got here?

Drew: I can't believe you're keeping your students in like this!

Professor: It's my right as a professor!!

Rosa Chesterfield: [Cries] Help me, Drew! I, I'm so hungry!!

Drew: [Shaking eyes] Rosa..! Urk... Don't worry. I'll save you!

Drew: [Glares] Professor White! I won't let you get away with this!!

...yes. Unfortunately, <Love Academy: Love Love Catcher 3> was riddled with cliches and evil-sounding professors, and this Rosa Chesterfield was not going to have it. But even so, her classmates didn't need to know that.

For two weeks, nobody dared approach the new hero of their century, and some students even decided to devote themselves to protecting her from any unwanted attention from jealous upperclassmen. When the middle school division got wind of this mythical figure as well, many young hearts joined together and started a fan club for the unaware girl, calling her the Underdog Goddess of Justice in their circles and skipping classes to go to the higher division buildings to catch a glimpse of the lady.

Crowds parted for her. Teachers skirted around her. Dogs barked for her. Birds flew for her. Sparkles in her hair wowed the world. She became only holier and holier in the eyes of her classmate.

"Rosa for president," someone whispered. The whisper was taken up by the crowds, one by one, until the whisper was a roar that only one person (Rosa Chesterfield herself) didn't hear. 

"Rosa for president! Rosa for president!" cried the student body.

The current president, Crown Prince Alexander Forbias, heard of this and maintained his smile, but quaked in his insides. Was this her goal all along? To scare me away from this position?

He was wrong.

Tch, I'll never let her rise to student council president!

...he was wrong, but perhaps Rosa could be thanked for the newfound fervor that revived within the president.

"Rosa for president! Rosa for president!" continued the cry.

Then one day, she raised her hand at the end of mathematics class and reminded the professor of the homework, and the entire ordeal dismantled in one week.