Growth isn't just about getting older—it's about maturing mentally and emotionally.
And that, more often than not, depends on what someone's been through.
Some people live a long time and still act like grown-up babies, while others, though young, have already seen through the ways of the world.
Emma suddenly understood that. It was like a flash of insight, and she became completely clearheaded.
Once she decided to let go, her world opened up.
In the past, Emma would stop at nothing to get what she wanted.
But helping her dad become governor? That was a wall she could never climb—not as a little girl.
Dad, you're really useless!
Emma, frustrated that her father couldn't live up to her expectations, came to realize that some things just can't be achieved no matter how hard she tries.
It's impossible. Just impossible.
So, she gave up.
She stopped forcing things.
Emma thought: Once I accept my weakness, I'll be invincible.
Let capital come as it may—Emma no longer feared it.
Watching Emma, who now looked like a miniature adult, Balin was momentarily speechless. He hadn't expected her to give up so soon.
Too weak.
He had barely started testing her intellect, and already Emma had gone full "I don't care anymore" mode—completely surrendering, like a total pushover.
Balin sighed. He understood that their "Dream Academy" lessons were about to reach their finale.
He decided to give it one last test—to see what kind of answer his student Emma would give him.
Was she truly giving up, or was she quietly biding her time?
---
"Emma, it's your turn to clean the blackboard today. A hundred times," Balin said casually, like a devil speaking sweetly.
"What?!"
Emma's eyes widened in shock. Even now, she still had to suffer such injustice?
"Why a hundred times? There's no rule that says a student has to clean the board that many times. Even if you're class president, you don't have that kind of authority."
She pouted but spoke with reason and confidence.
She'd given up, sure—but she wasn't stupid.
"Ha! As class president, my authority is absolute. I said a hundred times, so it's a hundred times."
Balin grinned arrogantly, acting like he had her completely under control.
Seeing that smug face made Emma furious. She had just decided to turn over a new leaf, but of course, there had to be someone trying to drag her down.
Her face went cold—icy cold.
"I don't care! Fine, I'll clean it—a hundred times!" she shouted defiantly.
It took her longer than usual, but Emma finally finished wiping the blackboard a hundred times. She really did it, every single one.
When did she become so obedient?
No one would ever bother doing it properly—ten times or a hundred times, it all looks the same.
But Emma did it anyway. Why? Because that shameless class president stood right behind her the whole time, watching.
"Phew! Finally done."
Emma wiped the sweat from her forehead, exhausted. If she could go home right now and flop into her soft bed, she'd be asleep in three seconds.
The board had never been cleaner—it shone like a mirror.
Strangely enough, Emma actually felt proud. It was her own hard work shining back at her.
Then—clap clap clap!
Applause came from behind.
Emma turned around, annoyed, and glared.
"Don't look at me like that, Emma. I did this for your own good. One day, when you're all grown up and happy, maybe you'll finally understand what I meant."
Understand you my ass!
Emma cursed him silently but forced a fake smile.
"You did great, Emma," Balin continued cheerfully. "Such effort, such perfect work. I've got to reward you properly."
"Reward?" she thought. "What kind of trap is this now?"
Emma nearly fainted from anger.
"Here—pick whichever one you like. Any one is fine."
Balin opened his backpack, and golden light spilled out—rows and rows of shiny medals.
"Whoa… are these really for me?" Emma's voice trembled with disbelief.
"Really? You're not joking, right?"
She was so excited her hands shook. Balin just kept smiling.
"Hehe, okay, I'll take one then!"
She cheerfully picked the biggest, heaviest, shiniest medal of them all.
"Thanks, Balin."
"No problem," he said calmly.
But just as Emma packed her things, ready to head home, Balin snatched the medal back.
Her smile froze instantly.
"I never said I was giving it to you," Balin explained matter-of-factly. "I just told you to pick one and take a look. Of course, you have to give it back after that."
Capitalism, I hate you!
"That's it! I'm done!"
Emma couldn't take it anymore. She clenched her little fists and swung.
And man, it felt good.
Three punches later, Balin was down. Emma grabbed his collar and yelled, "Mess with me again, and you'll regret it!"
"Got it?"
"Ha ha ha!"
The end of Dream Academy had arrived.
Emma tossed the medal back at Balin and stormed out.
No number of medals could compare to how good this felt.
Right now, Emma felt amazing!
She realized happiness could be so simple.
She couldn't wait to get home and share her joy with her family.
Emma had finally understood—life is precious, and some things will always be out of reach. But beyond those lessons, she'd found a new truth:
It feels way better to fight back than to beg.
---
Thump, thump, thump!
As she opened the door, Emma's heart nearly stopped.
Standing outside was her nanny—Levia.
But why was she here? That didn't make sense.
And then something even stranger happened.
Instead of the schoolyard, a staircase stretched before her—a staircase she would never forget.
She was home. How could that be?
"Emma… Emma…"
Levia's voice echoed softly, calling her name again and again.
The ghosts of her past seemed to reach out to her.
Emma stepped back—one step, then another.
Levia stood motionless, like a puppet, her smile frozen in place.