Thread 2 – Of Nails and Coffins. [0.5. Red Thread of Fate]

On November 26, 2024 By Fang Dokja In Arc 0.5. Red Thread of Fate

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The story contains mature themes and dynamics that may be sensitive for some readers. The humor and interactions are laced with tension, dramatic confrontations, and verbal sparring between characters. Below is a list of potential triggers to consider before continuing:

1. Intense Themes of Fate and Emotional Distress: The story explores unsettling ideas about destiny and the lack of control over one’s future, which may evoke feelings of helplessness or discomfort.

2. Physical Descriptions with Disturbing Imagery: The narrative includes detailed descriptions of a character’s appearance, using vivid and unsettling imagery that might disturb some readers.

3. Psychological Tension and Unease: Characters experience growing unease and paranoia due to inexplicable phenomena, creating an atmosphere of tension and dread.

4. Social Alienation and Bullying: The story depicts moments of ostracization, mockery, and dehumanization of one character by their peers, which might resonate with themes of exclusion or bullying.

5. Supernatural Elements and Implied Mysticism: The narrative introduces a mystical thread concept that binds characters together, invoking themes of destiny and metaphysical connection that may be unsettling to some.

6. Foul Language and Sarcasm: Characters frequently use sharp, sarcastic humor, occasionally resorting to crude or cutting remarks to emphasize their points. This can include mildly offensive or dismissive language.

7. Conflict and Rivalry: The story explores intense interpersonal rivalries, with characters engaging in verbal battles, passive-aggressive remarks, and overt hostility. This tension is a key component of the narrative.

8. Humiliation and Power Dynamics: Themes of one-upmanship and public embarrassment are prevalent. A central conflict involves one character’s “fall from grace” at the hands of another, portrayed with humor but carrying undertones of humiliation.

9. Non-Physical Aggression: Characters use verbal sparring and petty actions to assert dominance or retaliate. Instances of non-physical aggression, such as spitting, are framed humorously but may be uncomfortable for some readers.

10. Authority Figure Misconduct: Adult characters, who hold positions of authority, engage in biased commentary and instigation, sometimes adding to the chaos rather than resolving it. Their enjoyment of the drama may be unsettling.

11. Mockery and Emotional Intensity: The story heavily leans into comedic mockery and heightened emotions, often exaggerating reactions for dramatic effect. This includes teasing and undermining others’ pride or achievements.

12. Bullying and Social Alienation: The narrative features instances of characters mocking and ostracizing another individual based on their appearance, behavior, and socioeconomic status. These scenes include verbal insults, dismissive remarks, and an overarching sense of exclusion.

13. Derogatory Language: The dialogue includes characters using mocking nicknames and demeaning terms when referring to others. This includes mild slurs and insults rooted in prejudice.

14. Psychological Tension: The story explores themes of distrust, unease, and suspicion regarding one character’s peculiar demeanor. These moments build tension and may evoke discomfort due to the eerie, otherworldly implications.

15. Themes of Perceived Superiority and Power Dynamics: The narrative explores complex dynamics, including feelings of inferiority and resentment, as well as struggles for control within a partnership.

16. Physical Violence: The story features escalating physical confrontations between two characters, including punches, lunges, and improvised attacks using objects and substances.

17. Implied Child Endangerment: Situations involving young characters making dangerous choices are described with dramatic tension.

18. Depictions of Restraint and Detention: Characters are physically restrained using magical chains and subjected to a system of punishment that may evoke feelings of helplessness or claustrophobia.

19. Mild References to Injury and Danger: While not graphically described, there are references to potential harm, destruction, and chaotic events involving dangerous substances in a chemistry lab.

20. Classism and Prejudice: Themes of elitism and social hierarchy are present, with characters expressing contempt for others based on their background or perceived worthiness.

21. Dark Humor and Professional Misconduct: Authority figures engage in sarcastic commentary and humor about the students’ actions, which might be perceived as unprofessional or unsettling.

Note:

While the narrative primarily leans on humor and exaggerated rivalry, these themes may still evoke discomfort for readers sensitive to interpersonal conflicts or toxic dynamics. Proceed with caution if these elements could affect your reading experience. The story focuses on character-driven drama and should not be taken as an endorsement of any harmful behaviors depicted.

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Status: Draft #1

Last Edited: November 26, 2024

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It had only been a week, but already the name “Deon Fonias” had become infamous in the halls of Bona Fide Academy. No one had ever transferred into this prestigious institution before—mainly because it was so competitive that no one ever left, let alone joined. The school was an insular world of rich kids and prodigies, all competing for the highest marks, the most prestigious titles, and the most privileged positions in society.

When the doors to the grand classroom swung open that fateful morning, and Professor Soliel introduced the newest transfer student, every eye in the room turned to her—well, everyone except Reine.

Reine Albertine, always the center of attention, had been leaning back in his chair, spinning a coin between his fingers as though none of this was his concern. His tousled black curls bounced with every flick of his wrist. His crimson eyes flicked briefly toward the door when Soliel cleared her throat.

“Class, this is Deon Fonias,” Professor Soliel announced with an air of finality, as though welcoming the apocalypse itself. “She is joining us as a new member of this class. Please treat her with the respect we extend to all students here at Bona Fide.”

Reine’s gaze lifted lazily from his coin, his interest barely piqued. Then, his eyes landed on her.

Deon.

The moment she stepped into the room, a cold silence fell like a suffocating fog. She was tiny—so tiny, in fact, that she looked like she could barely be older than five, though the professors had confirmed she was just two. The sight of her made Reine’s blood run cold for a split second—not because she was beautiful or strange in the way of a new, exotic transfer. No, it was the sheer creepiness of her presence.

Deon Fonias was the embodiment of what a corpse might look like if it had somehow been resurrected and forced to wear the body of a child. Her skin was an unsettling shade of white, not just pale but sickly—like bone and ash, too thin, too fragile. Her hair was wispy, as white as the snowstorm that had likely buried her soul long ago. It looked as though a breeze could scatter it to the winds. But it was her eyes—those blood-red eyes—that were the most unnerving. No warmth, no life—just a deep, endless pool of crimson that seemed to burn holes into the very air around her.

The whispers began immediately.

“What… is she?”

“Is she even real? She looks like she crawled out of a grave…”

“Did she just… blink? I swear I haven’t seen her blink in like a minute.”

Professor Soliel, a battle-hardened woman used to authority, looked over at the class, her sharp eyes taking in the uncomfortable stares and hushed murmurs. Her voice was icy. “If you’re all quite finished, I’ll continue. Deon is one of the youngest students to ever join this class, and though she’s a transfer, I expect you all to treat her as you would any other student here.”

No one made a sound. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Deon didn’t move, didn’t shift her gaze, just stared—directly ahead. Her eyes seemed to pierce through the room like two red lasers, making everyone in the vicinity feel as though they were being read, dissected, and found lacking.

Then, in the most disconcertingly flat tone, Deon spoke.

“Deon.”

That was it. No more. No explanation, no pleasantries. Just her name, cold and crisp as the air in a tomb.

A few students, unable to contain their discomfort, shifted in their seats. A snicker slipped out from one of the girls, but it died in her throat when Deon’s eyes flicked toward her for a split second. She immediately fell silent, as though Deon had heard the sneer and decided to bury it in its tracks.

Reine watched it all with a detached amusement. This was nothing. Another strange weirdo would come and go. He didn’t care about this girl. There was no reason to—no reason to even look at her.

“She’s like a ghost.” A voice from the back of the class whispered. Reine caught it, but he made no effort to respond.

Professor Soliel, still standing at the front of the room, gave a sharp nod, as though satisfied with the silence. “Deon will be sitting next to you, Reine,” she said, looking directly at the golden child. “You will help her settle in, introduce her to the academic life here at Bona Fide, and ensure she’s comfortable with her classes. You’ve been a model student for years, Reine. I trust you will be an example to Deon as well.”

Reine blinked, the coin falling to the floor with a soft clink. He hadn’t expected this. Not that it mattered—he didn’t care about any new kid. He didn’t need to. But the fact that Deon was now going to be under his “care” for the day was annoying.

“Fine,” he muttered, waving his hand dismissively, as though he were agreeing to tutor an insect. “I’ll introduce her to the vibrant social scene of this hellhole.”

Professor Soliel didn’t smile. She merely gestured for Deon to sit beside Reine.

Reine made a show of rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, draping an arm lazily across the backrest, as though he were about to be forced to sit through another endless lecture. He glanced at the empty desk next to him, then back at Deon.

She shuffled over to the seat. Her steps were deliberate, like someone who had no real sense of urgency, no desire to belong. She sat down without looking at him, placing her hands on the desk and folding them in her lap.

For a moment, the silence between them was more suffocating than before.

“So,” Reine said, breaking the tension with a soft, teasing drawl, “this is the famous transfer student. Welcome to the life of the elite, I guess.” He flashed a smile that dripped with charisma and confidence. “Not everyone gets to sit next to me, you know.”

Deon didn’t respond.

She never did. She only stared, her unnerving blood-red eyes fixed somewhere far beyond him, as though he weren’t even in the room.

Reine sighed and leaned forward slightly. “Well, whatever. You can sit there and be creepy. You know the drill.” He glanced over to one of the girls in the front row who had been glaring at Deon since the moment she walked in. He winked at her. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in with all the other weirdos here.”

But even as he said it, there was a faint unease that crept into the pit of his stomach. A feeling that perhaps, for the first time, he had no control over the situation.

Deon Fonias was the kind of weirdo that unsettled even him.

And he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

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Reine Albertine didn’t believe in fate.

At least, not in the way his parents and all their high-society political friends seemed to. The entire idea of a mystical red string tying two souls together—the idea that he was fated to be with someone, someone special—sounded about as charming to him as a day spent in the academy library, buried under an avalanche of boring texts. No. He was Reine Albertine, heir to one of the most powerful political families in the kingdom, and he was more than content with that.

The string, the red thread of fate, was something his parents liked to joke about whenever they were in a good mood, and of course, it always involved them poking fun at their son, their “golden child.” They would laugh and talk about how they’d met—about how they were destined to be together, drawn by this mystical string that tied their hearts. And Reine? He just smiled, nodded, and pretended to care, all while thinking about which noblewoman was the most fun to flirt with that week.

The whole idea was so… pathetic.

He was a man of freedom, of choice. Who needed a stupid string tying them to someone else? Why would he want that? Reine loved the ladies, he loved his freedom, and he absolutely hated the idea of being tethered to anyone, much less some fated, ridiculous match.

That was until he saw it.

He was lounging in his chair, his legs stretched out lazily under his desk, his fingers tapping to an invisible rhythm as he stared off into space. Class was… well, class. It was something he had to endure, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t get perfect grades. In fact, he was one of the best in the school, but he didn’t give a damn about being the best. He was a social kingmaker. A playboy. A ladies’ man. That was his domain.

And then—bam—the moment hit.

There it was, just behind Deon Fonias as she sat down beside him, that faint, nearly invisible line of red. It was so subtle at first that he might’ve convinced himself it was just a trick of the light. But no—he couldn’t look away. It stretched from his chest to hers, like a delicate silk thread tethering them together.

Reine’s blood ran cold. The room felt suddenly colder.

His gaze narrowed, calculating. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he stared at the tiny pale figure sitting across from him, her blood-red eyes glazed as though she were already in another world. Her thin, fragile figure barely seemed to fit into the desk’s seat, like she was too delicate for such things.

But there it was. The thread.

Reine’s hand instinctively clenched around the edge of his desk, his knuckles going white. His thoughts turned frantic, racing in every direction. No. No way. This wasn’t happening.

He didn’t know why it shocked him, but it did. The string was unmistakable, and only he could see it, the way it gently pulled from him to her like an invisible anchor.

“What the hell?” he muttered under his breath, barely audible but enough to send a ripple of unease through him.

Deon—this thing, this freak, this creepy weirdo, had a string tied to him.

He looked down at her, trying to study her as she remained oblivious to the world around her, her small hands resting motionless on the desk. Her unnerving red eyes flicked up, but they didn’t meet his. She wasn’t even looking at him. She wasn’t looking at anything.

It didn’t even notice the thread.

Reine’s stomach churned at the thought. He didn’t even see her as a person, not in the way people saw others. To him, Deon was just an it—a freakish little kid who looked like a ghost, who somehow had the audacity to be placed in the same room as him. The audacity to be seated next to him.

What the hell was going on?

He refused to look back at her for too long. He could feel a strange heat crawling under his skin, and he couldn’t let himself be seen looking at her for more than a second. So, instead, he kept his gaze steady on the thread, trying to dissect it with every ounce of his intellect, even though he didn’t want to understand. This wasn’t happening.

But there it was.

The Red String of Fate.

“Professor Soliel,” Reine called out nonchalantly, flipping his coin once more. “You sure about this? You’re really making me babysit this creepy little thing?”

Professor Soliel shot him a sharp, no-nonsense glance. “Reine, you will be fine. I expect you to make Deon feel comfortable here. And who knows? You might even learn something in the process.”

Reine muttered a sarcastic reply, but the professor had already moved on.

“Comfortable, huh?” Reine scoffed under his breath, leaning back again, eyeing Deon from the corner of his eye.

He looked at her, at the ghostly figure who refused to acknowledge anything about her surroundings. Could she even see the string? Probably not. He’d heard that some people couldn’t even see it, especially if they weren’t destined for the connection.

But the fact that he had a string—that alone was enough to unsettle him.

“Just—” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, leaning forward to address her in the most uninterested tone he could muster, his voice dripping with boredom. “Hey, Deon,” he said, testing the name on his tongue. “You—uh—doing alright? Or are you just gonna sit there staring at nothing all day?”

Deon didn’t respond.

She never responded. She only stared.

Reine grimaced. “Yeah. I get it. You’re weird. Whatever. Just don’t make me regret this.” He turned back to his seat, sighing once more. His finger found its way back to the edge of the desk, tapping rhythmically, trying to ignore the sensation of the string, trying to shove the thought of fate out of his mind.

I don’t need this. I don’t need any of this.

Reine wasn’t going to be tied to anyone. He wasn’t ready to be anyone’s “destiny.”

He preferred to stay untethered. Free.

And definitely not to her.

“Just… let me play hooky and enjoy the ladies,” he muttered to himself. “No strings attached.”

But deep down, a voice whispered, You can’t escape it.

And that was the thought that clung to his mind long after the class ended.

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The cafeteria at Bona Fide Academy was unlike anything most people could imagine. Lavish chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal prisms catching the light and scattering it across the polished marble floors. The long tables, carved from dark mahogany, stretched the entire length of the vast room. Elegant golden placemats and exquisite porcelain dishes gleamed in the sunlight that filtered through the wide windows. The students of the top class, sons and daughters of politicians, business magnates, and high-society elites, dined together, sharing gossip, scheming, and enjoying the perks of being part of the academy’s elite student body.

Reine Albertine, the golden boy, lounged with his usual charisma at the center of the group, surrounded by the usual crowd of beautiful girls and handsome boys, all vying for his attention. His blood-red eyes glimmered in the soft light as he flirted with the girls, his signature grin flashing as he cracked a joke. He was a natural at this—playful, charming, effortlessly the center of attention. His reputation as a ladies’ man was well-earned.

Noah Noel, or as some of his less fond classmates liked to call him, NoNo (a nickname he hated with a passion), sat beside Reine, nibbling at his food with a look of quiet disapproval. Noah was a quiet one, sharp-eyed and quick-witted, with a reputation for being cool-headed. His disinterest in the social games of the rich kids was well-known. However, today, he seemed less interested in the conversation around him than usual.

“Reine, you’re really working overtime with the flirting today, huh?” Noah murmured, watching as Reine spun some story for a giggling blonde beside him. “You already got like, three of them practically eating out of your hand.”

Reine barely looked up, still engrossed in his latest conquest, a girl with platinum blonde hair who giggled at his every word. “Oh, come on, NoNo, it’s not like I have a choice. They all want a piece of the prize.” He flashed a smug grin, casually leaning back in his chair, eyes dancing with amusement as another girl sidled up to him.

Noah rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Please. You’re always flirting. You’re like an over-caffeinated cat with a new toy.”

Reine’s smirk didn’t falter. “Hey, a little attention never hurt anyone. Besides, they all love it.” His voice dropped an octave, the charm oozing out of him. “And it’s so easy to give them exactly what they want.”

Noah snorted, shaking his head, but his gaze flicked over to the far corner of the cafeteria where Deon was sitting. The two-year-old transfer student, who everyone had already learned to avoid, was sitting alone at one of the smaller tables, her pale skin practically glowing under the fluorescent lights. Her blood-red eyes were fixated on something in the distance, as usual, her thin frame hunched over her meal, not a word passing her lips.

Reine caught Noah’s gaze and, following it, smirked, clearly amused. “Oh, the freaky kid? Yeah, I saw her this morning. Total weirdo. Probably still eating dirt and bugs or whatever it is that freaks like her do.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. Just let her be. People like her always end up forgotten.”

Noah leaned in, his eyes narrowed as he watched Deon. “I don’t know, Reine. There’s something off about her.”

Reine shot him a look, arching an eyebrow. “What, you actually care about the creepy kid now? You’re the one who never even gave her the time of day.”

“I’m not saying I care about her. Just… there’s something wrong with her. She’s too quiet. You see the way she stares at nothing like she’s in another world? It’s like she’s not even really here.” Noah’s voice was low, tinged with an odd note of suspicion.

Reine shrugged, but Noah could see the faint twitch in his posture. “Maybe she’s just a freak, okay? Some people just don’t have the same social skills as us.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the crowd around them. “But hey, she’s still here, right? I bet she’ll fit right in with all the weirdos and rejects.”

The group of students around them laughed, but Noah could see the flicker of unease in Reine’s red eyes. Something was bugging him, something he wasn’t willing to admit. The Red String of Fate, maybe?

Noah smirked to himself, taking another bite of his food. “You sure you’re not worried about her, Reine? Or, better yet—” He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping into something almost playful. “Is it because you’re forced to babysit her for the next week, huh?”

Reine stiffened, his eyes flashing with a sharp glint. “What are you talking about?”

“Professor Soliel’s orders,” Noah teased, knowing full well how Reine hated responsibility. “She’s your project now. You get to be her tour guide around the academy. Gotta show her how the real students live.”

Reine groaned, sinking deeper into his chair as he rubbed his temples. “Damn it. I totally forgot about that. I’m stuck with her for a week?” He grimaced, his gaze flicking back to Deon, who was still eating alone in her strange, trance-like state. “This is the worst.”

“Not like you had a choice,” Noah said dryly, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth. “But hey, look on the bright side. Maybe you’ll actually learn something useful for once. You could use a bit more… humility.” He smirked at the effect his words had. Reine was too proud for his own good, and Noah loved needling him with jabs like that.

Reine shot him a side-eye, then pushed himself up from the table with a flourish. “Whatever. I’m not really babysitting. Just gotta pretend like I care, show her around the place, and then we can both go back to pretending she doesn’t exist.”

The rest of the students at the table all murmured in agreement, though there was still a curious undercurrent of tension. No one knew quite what to make of Deon. She wasn’t part of their world, and that made them uncomfortable. Her silence, her aloof demeanor, her weirdness—all of it painted a picture they didn’t want to look at too closely.

As Reine started to leave the table, he cast one last glance at Deon. She hadn’t even looked up from her food. She was still staring into space, as though the entire world around her didn’t exist.

What a freak.

But even as the words left his mouth, Reine couldn’t shake the feeling that he had something more to worry about than Deon’s odd behavior. He didn’t know why, but his mind kept coming back to that damn red string.

And how it was tied to her.

What the hell am I getting into? Reine thought, his gaze lingering on her for a second longer before he forced himself to turn away.

It didn’t matter. He was going to enjoy his break, and Deon could continue being the weird kid in the corner.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

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The lunchroom buzzed with chatter as the elite students of Bona Fide Academy carried on their usual conversation, discussing everything from the latest gossip to who was wearing what, with just a hint of disdain for the commoners they often overlooked. Most of the students seemed indifferent to the schoolwork—after all, they were here because they were the best of the best, and that meant nothing more than playing the game of life with the cards they were dealt. Reine Albertine, as always, was the center of attention, basking in the glow of the conversation while effortlessly handling the girls around him. But his mind was still elsewhere.

Meanwhile, the others at the table couldn’t help but gossip about the new transfer student—the strange, pale, silent little ghost-child named Deon.

“Can you believe she’s here?” Juliette, a girl with perfectly straight platinum blonde hair, was the first to speak, her voice dripping with incredulity. She leaned in close to her best friend, Emmeline, who was twirling her silver spoon absentmindedly. “How did someone like her even get in? Look at her—she looks like she crawled out from under a grave, not a prestigious school.”

“Seriously,” Emmeline agreed with a look of disdain, glancing over at Deon, who was, as usual, sitting alone in the far corner, her red eyes fixed on the empty space ahead. “She’s like… what, two years old? And wearing those… rags. I mean, I get it, she’s probably some scholarship kid, but she doesn’t even try to dress the part. She looks like she’s straight out of a horror movie.”

A small laugh escaped from Leon, a tall, lanky boy who was trying—unsuccessfully—to juggle his lunch with one hand and sip his drink with the other. “Honestly, I feel like I’m looking at a ghost. She’s pale as a sheet. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s some kind of undead creature brought back to life to haunt the halls.” He chuckled, as if the idea itself was wildly amusing.

Reine, who had been casually observing the group’s chatter while flicking his gaze between the girls and the food, leaned back in his seat with a wicked grin, raising an eyebrow as he interjected. “Oh, trust me, I wouldn’t be surprised. Deon, right? That’s the only thing I’ve heard her say, and I don’t think she’ll ever say anything else. I was wondering if she even has a voice.” His tone was mocking, dripping with disdain. “And the way she just stares into nothing… it’s like she’s in another world. Some creepy, demented little freak.”

Noah, sitting across from Reine, wasn’t as quick to join in on the fun. Instead, he leaned back slightly, noticing how unusually sharp Reine’s words were. Normally, Reine would have shrugged off any conversation about someone like Deon with a laugh or a dismissive comment, but this time it seemed… different.

Noah raised an eyebrow, his lips pressing into a thin line as he watched Reine. “You seem to care an awful lot about her, Reine. What’s up with that?”

Reine flashed him a quick smile, not quite a grin, but the kind of expression that hid something just beneath the surface. “Nah, nothing. Just annoyed I have to waste my week showing her around, that’s all. I mean, look at her—she doesn’t talk, doesn’t try to fit in, and when she does, it’s like she’s out of her mind. Who even lets someone like that into this school?” His eyes flashed with a bit more irritation than usual, but he quickly smoothed it over with a laugh. “I’m not saying she’s a problem, but… you really think the Principal just… overlooked that?”

Noah’s gaze sharpened at the uncharacteristic edge in Reine’s voice. He wasn’t someone to express open annoyance unless he was genuinely bothered. He had to admit—it seemed like Reine had taken an unusual interest in the weirdo kid.

“Maybe she’s just… different,” Noah said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I mean, we don’t know what kind of person she is. Sure, she’s a little off, but maybe she’s just not used to the whole ‘socializing’ thing. Might just need a little time.”

The group around them stared at Noah as though he’d just sprouted another head. “Time?” Leon laughed out loud, nearly spilling his drink. “Time? Dude, the kid doesn’t even look like she wants time. She’s practically begging for a one-way ticket back to wherever she came from.” He sneered, mimicking the way Deon stared at the walls, his face twisted in exaggerated horror. “I swear, if she’s not dead, then she’s damn close to it. Who looks like that? Seriously.”

“Her eyes, though…” Juliette whispered with a shiver. “They’re like… pure blood red. I feel like she’s looking into your soul every time she stares at someone. I hate it.”

Reine laughed at that, but there was an odd gleam in his eyes as he toyed with the napkin in front of him. “Maybe she’s some kind of… dark prodigy. You know, like those weird geniuses who can actually see things other people can’t. Maybe she’s so intelligent that she’s lost touch with reality, or something.” He smirked, a hint of humor dancing in his voice, but it was clear that he wasn’t entirely sure what to think about the kid. “But if she’s a genius, she’s not acting like one. The only thing I’ve seen her do is stare into space like a half-dead puppet.”

The laughter around the table continued, with people chiming in about how the kid was probably some charity case or how she must’ve done something ridiculous to get in.

“Yeah,” Emmeline agreed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Maybe someone felt sorry for her, or maybe they thought she was so weird that she might bring some sort of diversity to the school. Like… a token oddity or something.” She snickered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“And did you see her clothes?” Juliette added with a snort. “It’s like she’s from some other time. Look at those shoes—scruffy, falling apart—she must not have a penny to her name. And the rest of her, honestly? What’s the deal with that? I mean, I get that some people don’t have the best fashion sense, but she looks like a ghost. Like the living dead.”

Noah let out a sigh, shaking his head. He was starting to get tired of all the mocking and backhanded comments. “Look, I don’t know the kid. She might be weird, but so what? Not everyone’s gotta be a social butterfly to get into a school like this. There’s no rule that says you have to be a genius and also fit in, right?” He shot a glance at Reine, his voice quieter now. “I mean, she’s not that bad, is she?”

Reine shot him a look, his lips curling into a nonchalant smile. “You’re too nice, NoNo,” he said, but there was a coolness to his voice that made Noah pause. “Some things just don’t sit right, you know? That kid… something’s off about her.” He paused for a moment, staring at his untouched drink, and then shrugged with a faint, half-bitter chuckle. “But whatever. I guess we’ll see how this whole ‘tour guide’ thing goes.”

The others around the table laughed, the sound of their voices still lighthearted, but Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that Reine wasn’t just annoyed by Deon. There was something else, something deeper—and for the first time, he wasn’t sure what it was.

But one thing was certain: Deon was shaking things up at Bona Fide Academy in ways no one had expected.

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Reine slouched in his chair, his elbow resting on the desk as he attempted to subtly glance at Deon’s work. It was nothing short of perfect—meticulously written, every diagram precisely calculated, every fact laid out in neat, almost obsessive rows. The two of them were supposed to be partners in the project for Professor Frost’s class, a notoriously difficult course that required students to dissect the complexities of multi-dimensional calculus, quantum mechanics, and… whatever else Frost liked to throw into the mix on a whim.

Of course, being forced to work with Deon was like a bad joke. She hadn’t said a word since the start of the class. Not a single sound. And when he’d tried talking to her—oh, he’d tried everything—she hadn’t responded once. Not even a look.

“Deon,” Reine started, adjusting his posture and trying a different tactic. His usual confident, charismatic charm was useless, but he wasn’t about to give up. “Hey, I’ve got a couple ideas for our project. Maybe we could—”

No response. She was staring at the paper in front of her with those blood-red eyes, her lips barely twitching. Not even a blink.

“Okay, no big deal, right?” Reine muttered to himself, feeling an odd mixture of irritation and a strange sense of helplessness. He tapped his fingers on the desk rhythmically, trying to formulate a plan. “You know, you can talk, right? It’s not like I’m asking you to make friends, but it’s a partner project, so we should at least, y’know, share some ideas.” He leaned in a little closer, trying to get her attention. “C’mon, Deon. You’re not a robot, are you?”

No response.

It was at that point that Reine’s temper began to fray. He couldn’t figure out why she was being so… difficult. And it was starting to piss him off. He liked to be in control, to be the one who got things done with ease, to be admired. This… silent treatment she was pulling was as if she was intentionally rejecting him.

“No? Okay, cool. I get it,” he muttered, trying to suppress his rising irritation. “We’ll just do it your way, I guess.” He gestured dramatically to her work. “I mean, you’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

Deon didn’t respond. She just kept writing, her face as expressionless as ever.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Fine, whatever.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, trying his hardest to not show just how annoyed he was. “But I’m telling you, this is a terrible idea. You can’t just do all the work yourself. I refuse to be carried. You might be… whatever you are, but we’re partners. I’m not just some extra piece of furniture here.”

Still nothing.

Reine groaned inwardly, staring at her small, fragile frame. He’d never met anyone so… unapproachable in his entire life. Was this some kind of joke? What was he supposed to do with her?

His mind raced for a solution, any solution. Maybe if he tried being a little more… personal? She had to crack at some point, right?

He sighed dramatically and began again, forcing himself to smile in a way that didn’t feel entirely genuine. “You know, Deon, I’ve been thinking about something. It’s not every day we get to work on something as big as this together, huh?” His voice was light, almost flirtatious. “I mean, I usually do all the heavy lifting on projects, but hey, it’s cool. I’ll let you have the glory this time. You know, it’d be nice if you at least told me your opinion, though. I’m kinda the best at what I do, you know.” He tried a wink. He was laying it on thick now.

Nothing.

It was like trying to communicate with a brick wall. Only the brick wall had red eyes, and if looks could kill, she’d probably have already murdered him by now.

This time, his hand twitched, and he reached over to peek at the paper. Big mistake.

Deon immediately pulled the page away, eyes flashing for the briefest moment. He could’ve sworn she wasn’t looking at him, but the sheer coldness in her action left him blinking in surprise.

“Hey!” Reine snapped, his voice rising a little more than he intended. “What’s your problem? It’s a partner project, and you can’t even let me see what you’re doing?”

Deon didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look up. She just kept scribbling away, as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Are you—” Reine’s patience snapped. “You’re not even letting me do anything, are you? What, am I just a fucking placeholder for you? You’re doing all this on your own. Fine, go ahead. But don’t expect me to just sit here like some… servant, doing nothing while you carry the load!”

He slammed his hand down on the desk, hard enough to rattle the papers, but it only made Deon flinch slightly. She didn’t look at him, though. Not once.

“I’m not a child, alright?” he muttered, his voice quieter now, though still tinged with frustration. “I don’t need you to treat me like one. I may be younger than everyone else, just like you, but I’m still Reine Albertine, and I’m not some charity case, you got that?”

Deon didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just continued to work with that same eerie calm.

“Fine,” Reine hissed through clenched teeth. “You want to do everything yourself? Fine. Just don’t expect me to be nice about it.”

He slumped back in his chair, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion swirling in his chest. How did this silent freak manage to get under his skin so easily? He wasn’t used to this—not being in control.

But he couldn’t deny it. There was something… off about Deon. Something about the way she was handling everything—like she was already miles ahead, already a step too far beyond him.

Reine stared at the work she was doing, the intricate patterns, the exactitudes, the detailed calculations that didn’t just show intelligence, but an almost obsessive level of precision.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

And damn it, he hated that it was so impressive.

“Whatever, I don’t care,” he muttered under his breath. “You can do it all yourself. I’m not the one getting stuck with this… whatever this is.”

But despite his words, his eyes flicked back to her work again. Because somehow, no matter how much he hated being ignored, he couldn’t help but admire what she was doing. And that… annoyed him more than anything else.

═════════════════

The chemistry lab was quieter than a mausoleum. Professor Frost stood at the front, his steely gaze fixed on the array of students working at their stations, carefully observing every move. Reine, as usual, was sprawled comfortably in his seat, one leg over the other, his charm in full effect as he flirted with the girls around him, barely paying attention to the class.

But that was until she started.

Deon. The freak. The weird ghostly kid who didn’t even know how to talk to people. The one who always sat alone, always stared off into the distance with those blood-red eyes, like a living corpse. Reine hated how she just existed—sitting there like a zombie, doing everything perfectly without a single word. No compliments, no praise. Nothing. It was infuriating.

Today, though, Reine had had enough. She was pouring solution after solution, scribbling down measurements and calculations, her tiny hands moving with precision, but doing it all alone. She wasn’t even letting him touch anything. He’d been trying to help, at least offer ideas or suggestions. But nope. She was too busy acting like she was the only one who had any clue what was going on.

And then, she moved on to the next part: the application. The fun part. The part where you get to make things explode. Or, you know, test solutions and acids and actually work together. But Deon? She wasn’t having it.

Reine, already irritated, finally snapped. He couldn’t stand being ignored any longer. Without thinking, he reached for the research paper, pulling it towards himself with all the frustration of a kid denied his favorite toy.

“Alright, Deon, enough of the creepy, silent freak show. I’m doing something, got it?” he muttered under his breath, reaching for the solution she had just prepared. He was ready to show her how a real scientist handled things.

That’s when it happened.

Before Reine could even get his hand fully on the paper, Deon, with an almost imperceptible movement, yanked the beaker with a mischievous glint in her eyes and—whoosh—poured the entire thing over his head.

The solution wasn’t harmful. It was a basic reagent, meant to react with something else in the experiment. But what it did do was stain his favorite shirt with a sickly yellow color. A color that would never come out, no matter how hard he scrubbed.

The whole class went dead silent. All eyes turned to him. His jaw dropped, his mind racing for any explanation. But there was none. Deon didn’t even spare him a glance. She just grabbed the paper back from his hand and continued working, casually stirring another solution as if nothing had happened. Her movements were calm, almost serene, as she poured another drop of the solution into a vial, not once acknowledging the shocked faces surrounding her.

Reine sat frozen for a moment, his expression a mix of disbelief and growing fury. The audacity. The complete audacity of this… thing.

He stood up in a rush, his chair scraping loudly against the floor, causing everyone around him to flinch.

“You did not just do that,” Reine growled, stepping toward her. His hand reached out, fingers curling into a fist, ready to grab her collar and teach her a lesson. She needed to be put in her place. Nobody, nobody, did that to Reine Albertine.

He reached for her shirt, just about to grab her collar—

And then it happened.

BAM—a sharp pain exploded on his face.

The world went into a strange, slow-motion effect as Reine’s head snapped back, his cheek stinging with the force of the punch. His vision blurred for a second, and he staggered back, instinctively reaching for his face.

The class collectively inhaled, staring at Deon like she had just summoned the apocalypse.

And there it was. A dark bruise was already forming on his cheek.

His cheek.

Reine Albertine, the heir of one of the most powerful families in the political sphere, the golden child, the best of the best—had just been punched by the ghost child with the dead eyes.

Reine staggered back a few steps, his breathing shallow. For a moment, all he could do was stare at her, completely floored. No one had ever dared lay a finger on him. Not even in play. Certainly not with the kind of force she’d just demonstrated.

“You…” Reine seethed, struggling to regain his composure. His hand was shaking slightly as he wiped his now-stinging cheek, feeling the wetness of the bruise. “You bitch.” His words were venomous, but even as he said them, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of respect for her.

What kind of freak could land a punch like that? She was so tiny. She was barely more than skin and bones. But she’d hit him. Hard.

Professor Frost, who had been silent up until this point, raised an eyebrow, his usual stern expression shifting ever so slightly to one of mild amusement. He didn’t intervene, however. He just watched, eyes glinting with interest.

The class, still frozen, was caught between the horror of what they had just witnessed and the absurdity of the situation. Deon—the ghostly, silent freak—had just punched the golden child of the academy.

Noah Noel, sitting at the back of the class, shook his head slowly, a smirk curling on his lips as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, I did say she was a wild card,” he muttered to the student next to him, clearly enjoying the drama.

Reine, still seething, felt something shift inside him. This… this was something new. No one had ever dared humiliate him like this. No one had ever been this bold with him. But the feeling that gnawed at him wasn’t just anger. It was curiosity. How had she done it? How had she—

“You… you don’t get it, do you?” Reine hissed under his breath. His voice was low, almost threatening, but the edge of amusement was creeping into his tone. “You just made a huge mistake, Deon.”

Deon didn’t respond. She just glanced up at him for the first time since the punch, her expression unreadable. And then, as if to dismiss him entirely, she turned back to her work, adding another chemical to the flask with a soft clink, her focus unwavering.

Reine stood there, fuming, eyes narrowed, bruised face throbbing. For a moment, he almost considered walking away, but he couldn’t. Something about this felt… unfinished.

And as he glared at Deon, all he could think was that he was definitely going to make her regret this.

═════════════════

The atmosphere in the chemistry lab shifted. The air was tense, the kind of tension that you could feel crawling up your spine like fingers of ice. Everyone in the room was watching, eyes glued to the spectacle unfolding between Reine Albertine and the silent, ghostly Deon.

For a moment, everything went still, as if the world had collectively stopped breathing.

Then, it happened.

Deon finally, finally, spoke. Her voice wasn’t cold, wasn’t indifferent. It wasn’t the usual detached monotone. No. It was a single word, delivered softly, with a kind of venomous calm that made everyone in the room freeze.

“Idiot.”

The word hung in the air, sharp and precise. It was an insult. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t screamed, but it cut deeper than anything. And just as quickly, Deon turned back to her work, completely unfazed by the pure fury emanating from Reine.

Reine, to everyone’s shock, visibly twitched. His usually cool and collected expression twisted into something darker—something more primal. His eyes narrowed so much that it was a wonder anyone could see the red glow of his pupils at all. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together like a snapping trap. He was done.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The quiet humiliation. The constant being ignored. The audacity of that single word.

Reine had never been disrespected like this. Not by anyone. He wasn’t just upset—he was infuriated.

With an animalistic snarl, he launched himself at her. The air whooshed with the intensity of his movement, and in a flash, he was upon her.

“YOU’RE GONNA PAY FOR THAT, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Reine’s voice was a deadly whisper, as if the words themselves were the only warning she’d get.

Deon didn’t flinch. Didn’t even flinch.

And then the real chaos began.

Reine was fast, strong, and ruthless. He was more than just the son of a powerful family; he had years of training, an athletic physique, and enough ego to fuel a fire. His speed was unparalleled. He aimed for Deon with the precision of someone who had fought a thousand battles before. He should have had the upper hand.

But shockingly, Deon was not the frail, helpless creature everyone thought she was. She dodged him with an eerie fluidity that should not have been possible for someone her size. Despite her sickly frame, there was an unsettling agility to her movements. She didn’t run—no, that would be too simple. Instead, she was a shadow. A ghost that slipped between Reine’s attacks like she was part of the lab itself.

“Get. Over. Here.” Reine hissed through clenched teeth, his voice laced with pure fury.

But Deon, ever calm, was already preparing her counterattack. Without warning, she grabbed a nearby glass beaker filled with a harmless but highly sticky solution. With the precision of a surgeon, she tossed it at Reine, the viscous liquid splattering against his chest and hands, momentarily blinding him.

The class recoiled in shock. No one knew if it was the punch, the insult, or the chemistry concoction being thrown in Reine’s face that was the most surprising.

“THAT WAS A MISTAKE, DEON!” Reine roared, wiping his eyes and lunging again. He was like a beast unleashed, the fury of a seven-year-old king stripped of his throne.

But Deon? She didn’t look scared. Not even a little.

Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if considering him with the cool detachment of someone who had already lost any regard for the consequences. And then—bam. Another beaker, this time filled with a foamy liquid, hit Reine squarely in the stomach, sending him stumbling back.

“Don’t you dare think you can just walk over me,” Deon muttered, her voice cold but dangerously amused.

Reine gritted his teeth. He was pissed. He was beyond pissed. He was seeing red. No one, no matter who they were, disrespected him like this.

But now, his opponent was no longer just a quiet freak. She was a fighter. And she had a sharp mind, one that Reine had completely underestimated.

The whole class was watching, too scared to move, as the two children—yes, children—fought like demons. Reine, the tall, muscular boy with the prestigious lineage, versus Deon, the frail, sickly child with the heart of a lion.

Reine charged again, his body moving like a machine, his punches landing with precision. But Deon was faster. She ducked under him, sidestepped, then kicked over a nearby desk to block his path.

“What the hell?!” Reine roared, his voice breaking with rage. He kicked the desk aside, but by then, Deon had already grabbed a vial of acidic liquid and—bam—splashed it across his feet.

The sting was immediate, but what was worse was the sheer humiliation of being made to look like a fool in front of the entire class.

Deon didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her actions were clear enough.

This was a fight to the death, and she wasn’t going down without dragging Reine down with her.

The students could only watch in horror as the battle raged on. Reine, now visibly wounded but not giving up, and Deon, with an expression of cold detachment, using everything at her disposal to keep him at bay. The entire lab was now a warzone. Chemistry papers, broken glass, and the smell of various chemicals wafted through the air. It was madness.

But then—just as it seemed like one of them was going to seriously hurt the other—the sound of an almost mocking clap echoed through the room.

Professor Frost.

“I have to say,” his voice was dry, unimpressed, “I haven’t seen such a spectacle in quite a while. It’s been ages since I’ve witnessed children act this… well, spontaneously.”

The students all froze. Reine and Deon were still poised to attack, their chests heaving with exertion, but Professor Frost raised his hand, halting them.

“I’m impressed by your stamina,” he continued, his voice now laced with something a bit more amusing. “But this fight ends now.”

Reine and Deon both stood still, glaring at each other, both covered in stains and chemicals. Reine, his face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and fury, and Deon, her expression still unreadable, just staring at him like he was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Professor Frost’s gaze flicked to his phone, where he had discreetly filmed the entire incident. A small smirk tugged at his lips.

“You know,” he said, “This will make a fantastic video to show at the next faculty meeting. We don’t get that kind of entertainment every day.”

Reine’s eyes narrowed, and for a second, it looked like he might just punch the professor as well. But when he turned back to Deon—still standing there like a silent ghost—he had a strange feeling. Something had shifted. Something had broken between them.

The rivalry had officially begun.

═════════════════

The chemistry lab was in chaos. Paper and glass scattered everywhere, chemical solutions splashed across the floor like a tragic, toxic artwork. But amidst the wreckage, one thing stood clear as day—Reine and Deon were still locked in a war neither seemed willing to lose. And it was about to get worse. Much worse.

Reine, his clothes stained, his pride in tatters, glared down at the tiny ghost of a child in front of him. He was ready to tear her apart. His eyes burned with fury, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. No one, no one, disrespected him like this—especially not some sickly, silent freak who shouldn’t even be here in the first place.

But just when he was about to launch himself at her again, Deon did the unthinkable.

She looked at him with that dead, emotionless stare. And then, without a second thought, she spat directly onto his polished shoes.

Spit.

Right there.

Reine’s face contorted with absolute disgust, his entire body going rigid, unable to comprehend what had just happened. No one had dared do that to him. No one. Not even when he was a bratty kid, not even in the most heated arguments. This was next-level disrespect.

Deon—the two-year-old—then snorted coldly, a small, mocking sound that made Reine’s blood boil.

“And you call me ugly,” she said, the words coming out of her mouth like a sharp, unforgiving knife.

And then—for emphasis—she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and snapped a picture of Reine. The flash lit up the room like a small explosion, blinding him for a moment. But when his eyes adjusted, he saw the smug little smile on her face as she caught him in his most humiliating moment.

Click. Flash.

The photo was forever. The evidence of his defeat in front of the entire class, immortalized in a tiny, flashing rectangle.

Reine’s mind completely short-circuited.

“WHAT. THE. HELL. IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” he screamed, his voice trembling with both rage and disbelief. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

But Deon? She didn’t flinch. She didn’t even move.

Instead, she glanced at him, a faint, almost ghostly smile curling at the corners of her lips, and then—without hesitation—she turned and ran for the window.

The students in the room gasped, collectively holding their breath. Deon, tiny and sickly, was about to jump out of a window from a high floor, without a care in the world.

The nerve.

The absolute audacity of this kid.

And Reine? He was right behind her, a storm of rage in human form, ready to catch her and rip her to pieces. He had enough. Enough of this.

But before Deon could make her leap to freedom—or perhaps to her doom—there was an unexpected interruption.

Professor Frost, who had been watching this whole debacle with an amused glint in his eyes, suddenly stood up. His frosty demeanor was replaced with an almost… gleeful expression. As if he had been waiting for this very moment to unfold.

“Ah, yes,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “This is more entertaining than I thought.”

Without warning, Professor Frost flicked his wrist, and the room fell into an eerie silence. Dark, heavy chains—the kind of chains that even the most dangerous criminals feared—appeared out of nowhere, materializing with a cold snap.

The chains wrapped around Reine and Deon like an inescapable web. Thick, binding cuffs shackled their wrists and ankles, and before they could even react, they were both dragged to the ground with a brutal thud.

Deon, despite her usual composure, squirmed slightly, but the chains held tight, making her efforts futile. Reine, too, struggled, his muscles tensing as he tried to break free, but the chains didn’t budge. His breath came out in ragged gasps as he tried to pull at them with all his strength, but the cuffs held fast.

Professor Frost chuckled, a low, dark sound that echoed off the walls.

“Oh, this… this is just too rich,” he said, genuinely laughing now, a rare, almost caring laugh that seemed completely out of character for the usually cold and professional professor. “I haven’t had this much fun in ages. Children these days are so much more… entertaining than I expected.”

The students, still wide-eyed from the chaos they had just witnessed, watched in stunned silence as Deon and Reine lay there, tangled in the heavy chains like two helpless animals.

But Professor Frost was far from done. He tapped his shoe on the floor with an almost casual grace, and before anyone could even process what was happening, two dark portals opened in the middle of the room—like rips in space itself.

“The principal would love to see both of you,” Professor Frost remarked, his voice smooth and unfazed, as if he were simply announcing a new classroom project. “Off to detention with you both.”

Reine, still reeling from the humiliation, shot a look at Deon, whose eyes had finally lost that vacant, dead expression. They now held something new—a glimmer of satisfaction, perhaps? Or maybe it was the twisted amusement of seeing Reine finally lose control.

Either way, Deon didn’t care. She was still smiling. That dangerous, deadly smile.

“Take them,” Professor Frost ordered, with a casual wave of his hand. And just like that, the portals flickered, and both children were gone, their bodies sinking into the abyss, taken to the principal’s office.

The class, still processing the carnage they had just witnessed, stood in stunned silence.

No one dared speak. No one dared move. The chaos had been too much.

But Noah, who had been silently observing the entire scene, finally let out a breath.

“Well,” he said, breaking the silence, his voice surprisingly casual despite everything that had just happened, “That was fun.”

And with that, the rest of the class finally exhaled, some snickering nervously, others still too shocked to even form words.

But one thing was for certain: The rivalry between Reine and Deon had just gone to a whole new level.

And no one—no one—was prepared for what would come next.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The chemistry lab was eerily quiet. The remnants of what had once been a controlled and meticulous environment—a showcase of cutting-edge education—now resembled a war zone. Glass shards crunched underfoot, chemical stains marred the pristine counters, and the tables themselves were overturned, leaving the students awkwardly picking up the pieces of their shattered dignity.

Professor Frost, unfazed by the chaos, had already resumed his cold, no-nonsense demeanor. His eyes, icy and sharp as ever, scanned the room with absolute precision.

“Clean this up,” he instructed in a tone that brooked no argument.

The class groaned in collective frustration, but not a single student dared speak up. One glance from Professor Frost, and even the most rebellious ones—those who were still shaking with the aftershocks of the spectacle they’d witnessed—dropped to work. The thought of crossing Frost was worse than being caught in a firestorm.

As the students begrudgingly cleaned up, none of them could stop whispering amongst themselves. Deon’s audacity had shocked them all.

Meanwhile, Professor Frost was busy with something else. His phone buzzed quietly in his pocket, and as he retrieved it, he smirked darkly. One hand casually swiped across the screen.

Sent.

A video. The footage of Deon and Reine, captured during their brutal, near-death match, now broadcasted to the entire group chat for the faculty. Every professor had received it. Frost had even sent it to Principal Damien, knowing full well that his best friend would relish the chaos.

Damien, the ever-jolly and often unpredictable principal, responded almost immediately with an onslaught of emojis. A laughing face. A crying face. A thumbs-up.

“Oh man, you’re kidding! They actually did that?? Hahahahaa, I haven’t seen a fight this good in years! 😂😂 Definitely sending them both to the punishment gym!”

Frost couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. Damien always did have a way of turning everything into a joke. Even a full-fledged brawl in the middle of a chemistry lab was his kind of fun.

Frost could almost hear the laughter from the other side of the phone. “This is priceless. Our golden boy Reine, huh? Is this really happening in my school? 😆💀”

Frost simply rolled his eyes. The principal was always a mess when it came to things like this. But hey, at least the little scene had made for some entertainment. The video was bound to go viral amongst the faculty. It was just too juicy not to.

“I’ll be sending the damages,” Frost added dryly, after a pause. He then transferred the hefty sum for the mess caused by Deon and Reine’s ‘lesson’ to the principal’s account. He was quite certain they would both be paying for it—generously.

And as Frost left the students to clean, his businesslike demeanor returned, no hint of humor left on his face. As the last of the glass beakers were swept up, the class slowly began to resume its normal pace, though the tension remained.

The sound of sweeping and mopping echoed through the room as the students got to work. Reine and Deon, meanwhile, were out of sight, sent to face the wrath of the Principal himself.

═════════════════

At the table in the back of the classroom, Noah Noel—Reine’s best friend—was leaning back in his chair, eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter. While the rest of their friends were still in shock over the events that had just unfolded, Noah found it impossible to keep his composure.

“You know,” Noah said, his voice breaking through the silence like a knife, “I really didn’t expect that from Deon.”

A few of the girls gave him wary looks. “Yeah, no kidding. She’s a total freak.” One of them shuddered. “I can’t believe she went there with Reine. I thought she was supposed to be the quiet, weird one. Creepy was an understatement. She spat on him!”

“Oh my God,” another boy chimed in, still holding his head in disbelief, “She actually hit him! The golden child, Reine. No one touches him, and she’s out here punching him in the face like it’s nothing.”

“Did you see her smile, though?” a girl with short black hair asked, her voice dripping with disgust. “That creepy-ass smile she had after it. That girl has no boundaries. And her clothes? Ugh, she looks like she lives in a dumpster. How did she even get into this academy? Doesn’t she know she’s just a scholarship kid? Reine and his family could easily have her removed and destroyed!”

“I mean, yeah,” a guy with a messy head of blonde hair added, shaking his head, “She’s barely even human. She can’t even talk normally, just stares at walls all day like a damn ghost.”

The entire table collectively grimaced, agreeing with one another. The sentiment was clear: Deon was a freak. A creepy weirdo who didn’t belong. She was already a black sheep in this school, and now—after that—there was no way she’d be accepted.

But Noah, his eyes glinting mischievously, chuckled. The soft, mocking laugh that made everyone pause.

“I dunno, though,” Noah said, trying to keep his voice casual but failing miserably. “I think they make a good couple.”

Silence.

A collective silence followed. The group stared at him as if he had just grown a second head.

“What?” one of the girls exclaimed, choking on her juice. “What the hell are you talking about? A good couple? Are you seriously saying that?”

Noah shrugged, trying to suppress his laughter. “I mean, come on. That whole fight was… entertaining to say the least. And she’s got guts, I’ll give her that. I don’t think anyone’s ever had the guts to actually take Reine down like that. I think they’ve got a bit of chemistry, you know?”

The table burst into incredulous laughter, most of it tinged with disbelief. “You’re shipping them?!” A girl with long blonde hair snorted. “Are you out of your mind? Deon is a mess and Reine is—well, Reine—he’s perfect! This is like the villain and the hero! It makes no sense!”

“Well,” Noah said, leaning in with a sly smile, “The best couples don’t make sense, right?”

At this, several of the girls groaned. “I can’t believe you’re seriously saying this, Noah. She’s a scholarship kid, she doesn’t even belong here. She’s creepy as hell, and the fact that she took down Reine… she’s dead to all of us now.”

Another guy, more quietly, added, “She’s not just dead to us. She’s blacklisted. No one’s ever going to want to talk to her again. She literally fought with Reine. That’s unforgivable. She ruined everything.”

Noah let out another small laugh, shaking his head. “You guys are all just mad because Reine got embarrassed. I get it. But seriously, you can’t deny it’s pretty funny. I mean, Reine actually got humiliated for the first time in his life. It’s a bit… refreshing.”

“That’s the thing,” a girl interjected, her voice a mix of jealousy and disbelief. “We all love Reine. And she dared to do that to him. She’s a weirdo, and she’s going to pay for it. Big time.”

Another guy snorted, “Yeah, I hope she enjoys her time in detention with him. Reine’s going to rip her apart when he gets back.”

The laughter slowly died down, replaced with collective murmurs of distaste. But Noah remained unfazed, a quiet grin tugging at his lips.

“I’m just saying, there’s something there, guys. Maybe this is the start of something new.”

Some of the others shook their heads in disbelief, but Noah didn’t mind. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for the inevitable storm to pass.

And as the students went back to cleaning up the aftermath of the battle, the conversation continued to buzz around Deon and Reine.

The rest of the academy? They didn’t know it yet. But this was just the beginning of something far more complicated than anyone could have predicted.

Reine and Deon? Well, they were definitely going to be in the headlines now.

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The Professors’ Group Chat had never seen a day like this. As the video of Reine and Deon’s impromptu brawl circulated, the reactions varied from near hysterical laughter to stunned silence.

Professor Frost, ever the master of control, sat back in his office chair, eyes glinting with amusement. He couldn’t stop chuckling as he watched his colleagues slowly, reluctantly, begin to react to the madness unfolding in the video. His phone buzzed relentlessly, each ping more chaotic than the last.

Professor Frost: “Gotta admit, this was the most fun I’ve had in years. Reine actually lost his composure. Who knew? It’s like watching a perfect storm unfold.”

Professor Soliel (a no-nonsense, straight-laced woman with a reputation for severe discipline): “What in the name of academic integrity am I looking at, Frost? You know, I can’t help but notice the damages here. That’ll be a hefty fine for our little star and his… companion.”

Professor Frost: “Oh, I’ll deal with that. Reine’s got deep pockets. Besides, the video is priceless. Just wait till you all see the student reactions.”

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Professor Damien (Principal): “HAHAHAHAHA. This is gold! Frost, I swear you outdid yourself this time. Look at that smug little Deon. She’s barely even five years old and already a savage.”

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Professor Kincaid (Head of the History Department, an older man with a reputation for seriousness): “Frost, I know you’re enjoying this, but do you realize the liability here? Reine’s reputation is… tarnished now.”

Professor Frost (amused): “Tarnished? That’s putting it mildly. The boy actually got humiliated in front of the entire class. He’s never gonna live that one down. You should’ve seen his face when Deon spat on his shoes. I almost couldn’t hold my phone steady from laughing so hard.”

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Professor Maya (a sharp-witted and sarcastic individual who rarely holds back): “Reine’s had his reign of glory long enough. It’s about time someone took him down a notch. And who better than our ghostly scholarship student? What’s her name again—Deon? She’s one for the books.”

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Professor Kale (Grumpy, always hard to impress): “I can’t believe it. Reine? The golden child? Humiliated by a kid who can barely string a sentence together? What the hell is wrong with him?”

Professor Frost: “I told you all. She’s quiet, but she’s a troublemaker. She’s got a streak in her. I knew this would happen. It’s not the first time a ‘quiet one’ made a big impact, is it?”

Professor Kale: “Yeah, well, Reine was always untouchable. The rest of us? We could lose our jobs for this level of disrespect, and yet he…”

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Professor Meryl (a calm and composed woman, known for her meticulous mannerisms): “This is absolutely disastrous for our curriculum. If students get the idea that this is acceptable behavior, we’re looking at more chaos than we bargained for.”

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Professor Tristian (A newly hired and very ambitious professor who’s trying to impress): “Honestly? I’m just glad we’re not the ones cleaning that mess up. Those stains on the floor? Irreversible. And I’m not touching the glass shards. Too much potential for lawsuits.”

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Professor Frost: “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Tristian. They’re kids. They’ll fix it. Reine’s a big boy, he can deal with a few bruises to his ego. I’m more worried about what Deon is gonna do next.”

Professor Tristian: “Do you think she’s dangerous?”

Professor Frost: “Dangerous? No. But she’s got spirit, I’ll give her that. She’s a sleeper—and I mean that in the best possible way. She’s smart. Maybe too smart.”

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Professor Soliel: “Frost, this is not funny. There are rules in place. I will make sure there are consequences for Deon’s actions, even if she did manage to… well, outsmart Reine.”

Professor Frost (grinning widely): “Consequences? Sure. But let’s be honest—Reine’s never had to face real consequences. This is the first time he’s ever actually been caught off guard. And it was by someone smaller than him—someone who doesn’t even speak. It’s the perfect story.”

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Professor Kincaid: “I have to admit, I’m impressed. Who would’ve thought? This tiny little… thing… took down our golden boy. Is she secretly a martial artist, or just this… insane?”

Professor Frost: “It’s all in the mind, my friend. This is just the beginning. Reine won’t be able to handle the fallout from this.”

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The group chat continued to buzz, filled with dark humor, critiques, and some questionable emojis that should’ve never been sent in a professional setting. Everyone was laughing, yes—but beneath the humor, there was an underlying question: What was Deon really capable of?

As Frost sent yet another laughing emoji to the group chat, he leaned back in his chair and let out a deep sigh. For once, the academy was going to remember this year for something other than accolades. Reine had a serious rival now—and that rival wasn’t afraid to burn the whole thing to the ground if it meant proving a point.

And, oddly enough, Frost couldn’t help but find that beautiful.

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The Trio Chat was a sacred space, a private little corner of the internet where three old friends, all with very different approaches to life, could say whatever they wanted without any pretenses. Most of the time, it was just a quiet space where they all shared a laugh or vented about their daily chaos. But today? Today, it was an absolute riot.

The group chat was buzzing as usual, but it was clear who the star of the conversation was: Reine—or, more accurately, Deon.

Professor Frost: “I just sent that video to the group chat. Hope you guys are ready for this. Never seen Reine this unhinged.”

Principal Damien: “OH MY GOD, Frost! I’m dead 💀💀💀 That was absolute GOLD! I don’t know whether to cry or laugh. Did you see his face when Deon spat on his shoes? HAH! And then she flashed him with the camera. What a savage. I need to add a sound effect next time. Something like “Reine’s dignity just plummeted” 🎵💥.”

Victor: “…” (Victor’s stoic, three-word reply was the usual, but everyone knew his absence of text meant he was absolutely dying on the inside.)

Professor Frost: “He lost his cool, Damien. That boy’s so untouchable, he’s practically perfect. But Deon… Deon just broke him. And I mean, she barely even said anything! Just looked at him like he was some kind of insect before she slapped him back to reality.”

Principal Damien: “HAHAHA! You know what’s wild, though? He’s gonna be embarrassed. I’ve never seen him lose his composure, and now he has to deal with this shit. This is a mood.”

Damien (Principal): ” I’m sending this straight to my memes folder. I can’t stop laughing, I’m literally crying right now.”

Victor (The Stoic): “…I expected more restraint from both of them.”

Damien (laughing hysterically): “Restraint?? Ha! Victor, you’ve clearly underestimated just how much pure chaos these kids have in them. This was pure, unadulterated rage. Reine looks like someone slapped his favorite coffee out of his hand. And Deon—she’s a whole other breed.”

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Frost and Damien share a laugh, their entire day made simply from watching Reine’s fall from grace. Victor, however, is… slightly less enthusiastic. But they knew, eventually, he’d offer his dry commentary.

Victor: “I thought we were supposed to be professionals, Frost.” (A simple, deadpan remark. Everyone could feel his eyes narrowing, even through text.)

Principal Damien: “Oh, don’t start with that, Victor. This is hilarious!!! You’re telling me you didn’t enjoy watching the golden boy get absolutely wrecked by a two-year-old ghost kid? Come on!”

Professor Frost: “Victor’s right, we really shouldn’t be laughing at this… BUT WE TOTALLY ARE. I’m not even sorry. Reine’s untouchable status is… well, it’s gone now. I gotta say, Deon’s a surprise package. Not just the quiet kid she looks like.”

Principal Damien: “But seriously, this is the best thing that’s happened all semester. Deon might just have earned herself a permanent spot in my favorites list. She’s got guts—respect for that.”

Professor Frost: “She’s got more guts than Reine, and that’s saying something. Have you seen how Reine was trying to handle that? Kid’s trying to keep up with someone who’s got the intellect and the heart to outmaneuver him. A literal ghost making the golden boy her bitch. I’m here for it.”

Victor: “At least it’s not a dull day. And yes, I read your messages about the damages. Frost, are you planning to cover that, or should I start saving for the lawsuit?”

Damien grinned like a cat who’d just knocked something off a table.

Principal Damien: “Save your money, Victor. I’ve already got it covered. Reine’s got plenty of spare cash to pay for this ‘accident’. And honestly, I don’t care. I’ve seen worse from kids who were actually trying to mess up the academy. Deon? She’s just… reclaiming her place in the world. Little firecracker.”

Professor Frost: “She might be a little firecracker, but the real question is: does Reine even realize that he’s been defeated by her? Because I gotta tell you… I don’t think he’s even processing that part yet.”

Victor’s reply was as dry as ever, but they could feel the weight of his words.

Victor: “He’ll have to. Everyone will know. I expect we’ll be seeing this in all the tabloids by tomorrow. Might even make the evening news. The great Reine brought down by an underdog. I’m honestly just curious how long it takes for him to recover. He’s got a reputation to rebuild.”

Principal Damien: “Recover? Haha. Nah. Reine’s pride is gonna take a hit, but you know what? This is a perfect lesson for him. Sometimes, you’re just the one who gets smacked down. I love how all these perfect little golden children think they’re untouchable. But they’re not. Not with someone like Deon around.”

Victor: “You’re enjoying this more than you should. And you do realize that this could blow up in all of our faces, right?”

Frost and Damien shared a look, grinning like two children with a bag of stolen candy.

Professor Frost: “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you’re not enjoying this just a little bit, Victor. You’re laughing on the inside. I know you are.”

Victor: “I don’t laugh.”

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Damien (laughing his heart out, sending the photo): “LOOK AT THIS. I swear, these two could be the main characters of a sitcom. Look at Reine’s face—pure rage—and Deon’s face—like she just doesn’t care. What a pair of brats.”

(Attached image: Reine glaring fiercely at Deon, who’s sitting there stone-faced, unamused, her eyes locked with his, completely indifferent.)

Damien:

“They’re both pissed off and I’m here for it. But, honestly, they look like a couple of grumpy cats. Who knew these two would become rivals on day one? I’m dying over here!”

(Another laughing emoji, this time with tears, flooding the chat.)

Victor (the quiet one, the stoic observer of the group, takes a minute to type, but when he does, it’s always meaningful): “I’ve seen worse. But I’ll admit, it’s amusing to watch Reine lose his cool.”

Frost (joining in, after watching the aftermath of the chaos unfold): “I told you guys this would happen. I knew Deon had it in her. The kid’s dangerous—quiet on the outside, but she’s got a sharp edge. I wouldn’t be surprised if she starts running the school soon.”

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A photo message pinged through the chat, sent by Damien himself. It was a candid shot of the two children—Deon and Reine—in the principal’s office. Reine sat there, hands clenched into fists, glaring daggers at Deon, who, in return, stared back with a face so deadpan it could’ve been mistaken for a statue. Both were fuming, but also incredibly hilarious, looking like two children who were forced to share a timeout in an absurdly expensive office.

The image was captioned with a single line from Damien:

Damien: “Look at them—so cute together. This is giving me some serious ‘enemy-to-lovers’ energy.”

Victor, who had been lurking quietly, usually reading but rarely commenting, sent one short response that made the whole group burst into a new round of laughter.

Victor: “…What am I looking at, Damien?”

Damien (still laughing maniacally): “Reine, our golden child, the perfect student, got his ass handed to him by a 2-year-old. And Deon? She’s so calm and yet so… deadly? I’m telling you, she’s got something special. Something that Reine didn’t see coming.”

Frost (grinning, hands clapped together like an evil mastermind): “It was a thing of beauty, Damien. I haven’t seen Reine that off balance in years. The best part? She didn’t even speak. Not a word until she spit on him. I love a good challenge, and that kid just came out of nowhere.”

Damien: “And the spit!! The audacity! I honestly thought I was going to die of laughter. I’ll be sending that clip to my personal meme vault for the next five years. Maybe I’ll even make it my ringtone.”

Victor (stoic as ever, but a slight chuckle sneaking through his usual tone): “Spitting? That’s… a bit much.”

Damien (sarcastically): “Oh, Victor, come on. You’re telling me you didn’t find that hilarious? The whole school is talking about it. That kid has got guts. The fact that she outwitted Reine? That’s next-level.”

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Damien: “This is why I love teaching here, honestly. This was the greatest entertainment I’ve had in ages. I sent them to my office to cool off, but I’m just sitting here looking at their faces. Reine’s got this death stare going on, and Deon? She’s not even remotely scared. She looks like she’s bored—like she’s done this a million times.”

Damien sent a candid photo from his office. The image showed Reine glaring at Deon, who was completely unamused, her expression stone cold as she stared back at him. They both looked like they wanted to punch each other in the face. Yet to Damien, there was something almost… cute about it.

Damien: “These two? Enemies to lovers????? Seriously, can’t you just feel the tension here? I’m seeing romantic vibes, fellas. This is going to be the best drama of the year.”

Victor (the ever-so-stoic one, still not fully aware of the madness unfolding): “Romantic tension? They look like they want to kill each other.”

Damien (sending multiple crying laughing emojis): “Exactly. And that, my friend, is the essence of enemies to lovers. That’s what makes it spicy. Trust me, I can feel the romance brewing. No one else sees it, but I do. I live for this stuff. It’s like one of those stories where the two bicker and fight and then—bam!—they fall in love. Reine’s gonna be so salty about this later.”

Frost: “I’m seriously wondering if Deon’s intentionally messing with him. She’s smart, and I’m getting the feeling she enjoys pushing his buttons. But damn, that spit on the shoes? Gold.”

Damien (still laughing his ass off): “I mean, can we just take a moment to appreciate the timing? Deon didn’t even hesitate. She was just like, ‘Yeah, screw you, dude,’ and went on with her day. Reine was left there—looking like an actual idiot. I’m telling you, this kid might be a demon, but she’s also everything I never knew I wanted in a student. She’s got guts, I’ll give her that.”

Victor: “Isn’t she just a scholarship student? She’s a child.”

Damien (cackling): “She’s a two-year-old who just got into the school, and she’s already turning it upside down. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one to ruin Reine’s career. I mean, look at this picture. They’re basically made for each other. You know what they say— opposites attract.”

Frost (grinning): “I’m just saying, she might be small, but she’s got some serious potential for chaos. I’m loving it. Reine’s never been challenged like this before. And honestly, I think he deserved this.”

Damien: “You’ve got that right. He’s been the untouchable golden boy for way too long. This was a reality check for him. But Deon? Pure gold. I need a front-row seat to their next confrontation. They’re practically fated to destroy each other and yet… I don’t know, something tells me this isn’t over. Reine might hate her now, but that might be the beginning of something special.”

Victor: “… You really ship them?”

Damien (ignoring Victor’s deadpan response and sending more memes): “Of course! You have no idea, Victor. You really have no idea. I just see it, okay? There’s this spark, a chemistry—I don’t care what anyone says. Enemies to lovers. Mark my words.”

Frost (eyes glinting as he added his own comment): “I was thinking more like ‘rivals to lovers,’ but romance works. I’m just waiting for the fanfics to appear. They’re gonna blow up.”

Damien: “Oh lord, yes. I’m already thinking of plotlines. I’ll write them for you, Frost. Just need to find a way to get them both in a ‘forced together for a school project’ situation. Maybe a romantic dance…?”

Victor (responding with another neutral emoji, clearly amused but too cool to show it): “You’re both ridiculous.”

Damien: “But you love it, Victor. You know it’s true. I’m starting to think we need to schedule a ‘romantic showdown’ between them. Let’s see if Reine can finally take down this little dynamo.”

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Victor: “I don’t think Reine would agree with your… assessment of the situation.”

Damien snorted at that, sending a bunch of crying-laughing emojis.

Damien: “True. True. He would rather gouge his eyes out than admit Deon has any power over him. But deep down, I know he feels it. He’s already obsessed. You can see it in his eyes. He wants to destroy her, but there’s a little part of him that just wants her to admit she’s into him too.”

Frost: “That’s exactly what I love about this. There’s no finesse with Reine. When he’s all wound up like that, you can tell he’s losing control. If anything, Deon is the only one who can actually make him lose it.”

Damien: “Lord, I hope they end up in detention together again. Can you imagine? I’d be rolling on the floor. Them sitting in that cramped little room, trying to out-stare each other, trying to out-sass each other… Honestly, Frost, you gotta put them in a room for two hours next time and see what happens.”

Frost: “You really want to see them burn out in a small room together? I’d pay to watch that too, but I think I’ve had enough of their fighting for one day. I’ll save the rest for later.”

Damien: “It’s golden. I can already see it—Reine’s gonna be the one who cracks first. Deon won’t even flinch. She’s not afraid of anything. Lord, I love it. The chaos is chef’s kiss.”

Victor, ever the stoic one, threw in a final remark, almost as an afterthought:

Victor: “It’s… unpredictable.”

Damien shot back immediately:

Damien: “Exactly! That’s what makes this so enthralling! Deon is unpredictable—she’s a wildcard, and Reine’s the fool who thinks he can control her. It’s literally a telenovela, I swear. So much drama. So much unspoken lust.”

Frost: “You’re insufferable, Damien. You know that?”

Damien, still riding the high from his manic laugh, sent one final meme—a poorly edited picture of Reine and Deon’s faces plastered onto famous romantic movie posters, complete with dramatic text that read: “Will they kill each other, or will they fall in love?”

He was pretty sure it was the best thing he’d ever done.

Damien: “Look at that, boys. This is high art. Reine and Deon, the next it couple. You’ll see. Mark my words.”

Victor’s single, brief reply came with a period.

Victor: “Doubt it.”

Damien: “We’ll see. You’ll see.”

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He sent another photo, this time a close-up of the two of them glaring at each other—Deon’s lips curled in a small, almost imperceptible smile, while Reine looked like he was about to punch a wall. It was pure gold.

Damien: “Like, look at this. Tell me you don’t see the romantic tension here. These two are basically made for each other.”

Victor: “This is… unusual.”

Frost: “Unusual? This is better than any romance novel I’ve read. These two have the chemistry of oil and water, and I can’t wait to see how they implode.”

Damien (ignoring the sarcasm): “Honestly, Frost, I might just assign them as partners for the next project. See what happens when they’re forced to work together. I need to know if they’ll either become best friends… or just kill each other.”

Frost (chuckling darkly): “Either way, I’m betting on Deon. She’s got brains, and she doesn’t give a damn about anyone’s reputation.”

Damien (mock serious): “She’s two years old, Frost. Reine’s seven. What’s her excuse for outclassing him?”

Frost: “Pure evil.”

Victor (finally cracking a small smile): “You two are ridiculous. But… I have to admit, this is entertaining.”

Damien (growing serious for a moment, but still with a grin playing at his lips): “I know, Victor. This is going to be fun. Reine will never live this down, and Deon? I’m telling you—she’s going to be a wild card. You just wait.”

Frost (signing off with a final word): “We’ll see, Damien. But this is just the beginning. If they want to test me, I’m more than happy to give them the lesson they deserve.”

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As the trio continued to chat, the memes and laughter didn’t stop. Damien had already shared a dozen more memes of Reine looking defeated, and now he was diving into fanfic territory, sending “romantic” pictures of Reine and Deon with cringey text captions. The chat was a chaotic mess of humor, dark undertones, and borderline obsession.

But deep down, Damien knew this wasn’t just about the drama. It was about the pure entertainment that Deon, this quiet, unassuming child, was providing him. Reine? He could sense it—he had a feeling this “battle” wasn’t over. It was just getting started.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew—enemies to lovers—that’s what was going to make this whole mess legendary.

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