(Dans Perspective)

I was sitting at my desk, lunch spread out before me—nothing fancy, just a simple sandwich and a peach—when the school announcement crackled over the intercom. “Attention, Dan, please report to Mrs. Kaira’s office immediately.”

I glanced around the room, catching a few curious looks from my classmates. Great, just what I needed—a reason for everyone to speculate. I shrugged it off, finishing my bite and clapping my hands to rub of the crumbs before reluctantly standing up and making my way to the door.

As I walked through the hall, I couldn’t help but wonder what Mrs. Kaira wanted to discuss. Probably something mundane—another lecture on attendance or XP points, no doubt. I sighed, pushing open the office door, bracing myself for whatever was coming next.

Mrs. Kiara looked at me while chewing on food and motioned me over to her desk with a flick of her hand, pulling out a paper she clearly thought I’d written to be clever. She eyed the title with a hint of irritation.

"So, Dan, remind me of the essay question I gave you for test week."

"If I remember right, it was: Why should people cherish the past and youth?"

"Exactly. Then explain to me why your title reads The Illusion of Cherishing Youth. How, exactly, did you interpret my question as an invitation for a'smart-ass’ answer?" She sighed, picking up my paper and reading aloud with a look of disdain.

"In a society that romanticises youth... we are told to cherish it, to hold onto fleeting moments of freedom and joy. But what if those memories are just distractions from the inevitable march of time? Instead of focusing on the present, we become preoccupied with nostalgic reflections that do little to enrich our lives.” She trailed off, rolling her eyes.

“This is soul-crushing to read, Dan."

"Wow," I replied flatly.

She ruffles her hair; instead of calling her a teacher, wouldn’t it be sexier to call her a disciplinarian? ( I wouldn’t mind her disfiguring me.) Just as that crossed my mind, said disciplinarian Right then, she slapped my paper onto the table, clearly unimpressed. which kind of made me sad.

“seriously,” she then stares at Dan

"Look at you—eyes like a dead fish,” she said, staring me down.

"I’ll take that under advisement, though it does sound a bit fishy coming from you," I said, barely holding back a smirk made from the terrible pun. Her eyes narrowed, causing me to stop.

"And you really have nothing worth cherishing from your past?"

"Nothing comes to mind," I shrugged. "Guess nostalgia just isn’t my thing.”

“Your brat, just cut the crap And don’t call me a ‘disciplinarian.’ Where do you even get off?"

Wait a minute—how does she even know I said that?

"Did you just call me a brat? Well, that makes sense coming from someone your age.”

Mrs. Kiara moved faster than I could blink, gathering mana into her fist, and threw a punch so close to my face that it stirred the air next to my cheek. My heart practically skipped a beat.

"Did no one ever teach you that you never talk about a woman's age?” she snapped.

"Alright, alright—that’s my bad. I’ll rewrite it,” I replied quickly, trying not to sound too shaken.

“Actually,” Mrs. Kiara said, eyeing me, “you know what they say: desperate times call for desperate measures; come with me.”

Before I could respond, she led me to a room near our homeroom and opened the door, revealing Celia sitting in a chair, eating all by herself. Even I, a seasoned loner, found the scene amusing and a bit sad at the same time.

“Ok, first off, knock, and second off, go away,” she snapped without looking up.

“Whoa, calm down, Celia. I’m not here to handcuff you to this one,” I shot back, but then I paused, realising I didn’t even know if she remembered my name. Wait a minute—what did she just say?

“Well, I don’t care,” she retorted. “Why did you bring this orphan boy anyway?”

I blinked. ‘Orphan boy’? No, wait a minute—what did she just say?

“This is Dan,” Mrs. Kiara interjected. “He’s in your class and sits in front of you, remember? We did that whole introduction thing for this, you know?”

“Great, this little weasel will be joining to make a club,” she said, and I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me.

“Club? What did I do to deserve this kind of punishment?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“This isn’t a punishment at all. I believe many good things can come from this new experience,” she replied, her voice annoyingly upbeat. “And you owe me for using this room in my name.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve pondered the benefits already in the three seconds you took to say that, and I see none. There will be no effort put into this club by either of us, resulting in countless wasted hours.”

“Wow, she was quick to write that off,” I muttered.

“Plus, I don’t babysit unwanted orphans, and just looking at the ulterior motives behind that lewd gaze of his makes me fear for my life,” she added dismissively.

“Okay, you listen here,” I said, finally confronting her. “Where did you get this ‘orphan’ thing anyway?” I wasn't looking at her modest breasts; I wasn’t. No way. It was just hard not to notice the way she carried herself.

Mrs. Kiara interrupted me with a sharp “Dan, NO,” and for some reason, her tone silenced me instantly.

“Look, Celia,” Mrs. Kiara continued, “this guy is a living, grown-up cynical baby, and you’re a dignified antisocial mess yourself. With his cynicism and your inability to open up about your feelings, there’s a lot that can come out of this.”

I couldn’t help but feel like I was being thrown into the deep end of a pool I never wanted to dive into in the first place.

“You both need to grow up and get over yourself. I'll be back in 5 minutes, and I want to hear your ideas for the club you two will be running." Mrs. Kiara starts walking towards the door, muttering to herself, “I see a different romcom every time I walk out of these rooms. When am I going to get married?”

“Oh NO,” was the only thing that came out right before the teacher left.

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I still remember the one time I was dumb enough to ask a girl out. I’d rehearsed the line in my head like some kind of fool: “Hey, want to grab coffee or something?” I’d said, trying to pass it off like it was no big deal. Her face said it all—this polite smile that barely masked the look of someone who’d rather be anywhere else. “Oh, Dan, I really appreciate it, but... I just don’t see you that way,” she said. Instant rejection. Like my stomach had just dropped into a bottomless pit. I forced a smile and told myself to brush it off. But after that, everything changed. Emily—who’d been polite at best—started dodging me completely. Even the superficial conversations we’d barely managed before? Gone. She couldn’t even look my way after that.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

That’s when I got it. Romance? Definitely not for me. I don’t belong in one of those cringey, sappy romcoms. Girls only care about guys who are easy on the eyes and are all too eager to dive into superficial relationships. In other words, they’re my enemies—detachment is a better shield anyway. Better to be hated than to risk ever feeling like that again.

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5 minutes later

In Mrs. Kaira's absence, Dan and Celia lock eyes, each clearly uninterested in the other's company, let alone collaborating on a club.

Dan breaks the silence first. “Alright, let’s get this over with. I’m thinking we just make a club where no one has to actually do anything. You know, a silent study club or something. We meet, we sit, we don’t talk—it’s perfect.”

Celia scoffs. “That sounds like the kind of club someone with no imagination would come up with. Besides, I already had an idea in mind.”

Dan raises an eyebrow, leaning back. “Oh, really? Let me guess—it’s something elitist and unnecessarily complex.”

“Actually, yes,” Celia retorts with a smirk. “I want a debate club. We need a space where we can refine our arguments, challenge ideas, and push intellectual boundaries. You wouldn’t understand.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Right, a Debate Club. Where you get to be right about everything, and anyone who disagrees gets steamrolled. So fun.”

Celia’s gaze sharpens. “And the Silent Study Club doesn’t just scream ‘boring loner’? Why not just call it the Avoid-Responsibility Club?”

Dan smirks. “Better than a club where the only outcome is bruised egos. Besides, I think more people would actually join a silent study club—some people enjoy peace, you know.”

“Peace is overrated,” she shoots back. “Challenge fosters growth. Unlike in your club, we’d actually learn something.”

Dan rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, I get it—you want everything to be this intense intellectual showdown. But what about something that could actually attract people without the need to argue?”

Celia crosses her arms, unimpressed. “And what would that be?”

Dan smirks. “An Art Club. Think about it. It’s multipurpose; people can showcase their work, talk about it, and maybe even collaborate on projects. It’s something that could actually get people interested—plus, it’s a good way to bring in more people, including the girls. You know, they could showcase fabric design or any kind of craft they’re into.”

Celia’s eyebrows arch. “So, in other words, a club where people just show off and talk about pointless hobbies?”

“Not everything has to be about intellectual growth, Dan counters, sounding exasperated. “Some people just want a space to express themselves. You’d be surprised how many people would be interested.”

She rolls her eyes. “And you think a club like that would attract anyone serious? It would just become a social hangout, full of people wasting time on meaningless projects.”

“Wow, way to be dismissive,” Dan mutters. “Maybe people would actually enjoy being part of something that doesn’t feel like a verbal cage match.”

Celia gives him a cold smile. “If you want to waste time on trivial things, go right ahead. But I’d rather join a club that has some actual purpose.”

Dan’s eyebrows rose as he looked at Celia, an idea sparking clearly mocking Celia’s idea. “Fine, let’s go with your debate club idea. Think of it: everyone fiercely debating, sharpening their minds, diving into every topic like it’s life or death. We’d be cranking out the next generation of prodigies. Future politicians, business moguls, geniuses. We’d be the place everyone wants to be, the elite of the elite.”

Celia rolled her eyes, looking at him as if he were an overexcited child. “Dan, you’re completely missing the macro perspective. A debate club could foster genuine change and teach people to look beyond surface arguments. This isn’t just about sparring over topics—it’s about understanding societal structures, applying critical thinking, and building a future generation of people who can address complex issues.”

Dan snorted. “Oh please. You’re talking about 'societal structures’ and 'macro perspectives’ like anyone actually cares about that. People just want to have fun. And newsflash, Celia—no one’s going to show up to a club where they feel like they’re being grilled every week.”

She fixed him with a cold, cutting gaze. “The only person who seems to think it’s meaningless is you. And maybe that’s justified.”

Dan opened his mouth, ready to fire back with, “listen here, you Bi—”

But before he could finish, Mrs. Kaira’s voice cut through the tension, startling both of them. “Alright, I see you two are getting along just as planned.” She entered the room, giving them a knowing smile that didn’t bode well for either of their arguments.

Celia, arms crossed and standing firmly, glared at Dan. “And by the way, next time you decide to barge into a room, you’re supposed to knock. Just a little courtesy, you know?”

Mrs. Kiara, who had been quiet until now, gave a slow clap. “Oh, thank you for the reminder, Celia. We’ll be taking care of that soon... by removing the door entirely. It’s much more efficient that way.” Her tone was dry, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Dan, not missing a beat, shrugged. “Not like you need to worry about knocking. I won’t be joining this dumb club anyway. I’m not wasting my precious time here with her.” He gestured toward Celia with a flick of his hand.

Celia raised an eyebrow; a smirk formed on her lips. “If your time is so precious, then why do you preach about it meaning nothing?” She shot back.

Dan leaned back, putting on an exaggerated air of superiority. “Because it’s MY time, and it’s all about me—and me alone." He made a dramatic pause. “Other people don’t get to say anything about it. I could sit here, stare at a wall for hours, or even sing myself a sad song. It’s my prerogative.”

Celia’s patience finally snapped, her voice rising in frustration. “God, you are insufferable!” she shouted.

Dan, completely unfazed, grinned. “I know you are, but what am I?”

As Celia looked at Dan with a mixture of exasperation and disdain, she muttered, "Ugh. It's like this is your world, and we're all just people in it."

Dan smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "No, but I certainly believe that people like you shouldn’t be."

Celia rolled her eyes, biting back a retort, but her icy glare spoke volumes. The silent standoff lingered, each unwilling to give the other the satisfaction of a reaction.

Celia’s eyes lit up with a sly grin. "Dan, how long has it been since you properly spoke to a girl?"

Dan froze, caught off guard by the jab. Her smirk dared him to answer, but his mind betrayed him, flashing back to the last “real” conversation he’d had with a girl in middle school.

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It was just another day in middle school. Dan sat near the back, pretending to focus on his notes, when a girl next to him—someone he barely knew—turned and smiled.

“Hey, Dan,” she greeted casually. “How’s your day going so far?”

Dan, not expecting the question, panicked a little. “Uh... well… I guess, um, normal?” he stammered. “I mean, as normal as... normal gets. Like, you know... nothing crazy, just... existing, I guess.”

The girl’s smile faltered as he rambled on. “Uh-huh,” she replied, her expression turning puzzled.

Trying to recover, he added, “And, you know, I think... breathing is pretty cool too. Keeps you, uh, alive and all.”

The girl blinked, nodding slowly. "Right... well, I guess... glad to hear you're... breathing."

That night, Dan tossing and turning in bed, cringing, replaying the awkwardness over and over and wondering why he couldn’t have just said, “Fine, thanks.”

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Mrs. Kiara sighed, stepping between Dan and Celia before their argument could escalate further. "Alright, that’s enough. I’m sorry if I’ve unintentionally put you two at each other’s throats. I thought this partnership might help resolve some... well, some of the problems you both seem to face."

Dan raised an eyebrow, cutting in before she could continue. "Problems? Are you serious?" He let out a drychuckle. "I’ll have you know, I’m more than capable—efficient, even. I placed third on the entrance exam to this school. And, let’s not forget, I’ve got looks going for me too. Sure, I might only have one friend, and maybe my dating life isn’t exactly thriving, but that hardly disqualifies me. I’d say I’m in a pretty high league."

Celia crossed her arms, giving him a sideways look. "Impressive that you can say all that with a straight face. Actually, it’s kind of creepy. I’m already weirded out."

Dan shot her a glare. "Shut up. You’re the weirdo."

Just as Celia opened her mouth to retort, the school bell rang, cutting through the tension. Mrs. Kiara glanced at the clock, looking relieved to have the excuse. "Alright, you two, save it. Pack your things and head to your next class. Fifth period’s waiting."

Dan and Celia shot one last glare at each other before collecting their bags and heading out. Dan muttered something under his breath as he walked away, while Celia rolled her eyes, clearly glad to put some distance between them.