From yesterday's chain of unfortunate events, you kinda brace yourself for the worst, shaking your shoulders as you step into the room. The all-too-familiar looks of disdain gawk at you—sizing you up.
Everyone's gonna judge. So be it!
Making your way toward the farthest corner of the classroom, you already imagine how nice it'll feel to sink into that quiet seat in the back.
Before your butt even touches the cushioned chair, someone shoves you hard. You shut your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable crash.
What the fuck! No!
But then, just inches away from the impact, two strong hands catch your shoulders, stopping you dead in your tracks.
"Watch out, charity!"
Charity! That voice. No way! The devil never really rests, does he?
Your irritation is palpable as you glance at the two unwelcomed sights. On one side, Joshua still leaning toward you almost in an embrace curls his lips in a playful smile. "It's the first day, charity. Don't die just yet!"
Contrasting Joshua's warmth with an unfazed and unreadable stare, Wonwoo stands and looks at you almost as if he were the one wronged and it's grating on your nerves. "Move!" he commands.
"What's your problem?" you mutter, unwanting to attract attention.
Wonwoo slides into the seat next to you, leaving you with no room to sit—your inconvenience is none of his business.
"How childish!" you scoff under your breath.
Clearly enjoying your discomfort, Joshua leans in and taps his lap, giving you a playful wink. "You can sit here if you want," he teases.
Rolling your eyes at his antics, you crane your neck, scanning the room, your eyes darting from corner to corner to find any other seat—any seat—that can get you away from the playful pressure from Joshua and the oppressive stillness of Wonwoo beside you.
You make your way to the front seat—at least it gets you out of this mess, even if it does mean sitting in the front.
"Hey, hey! New seat, huh? You sure you can handle it?" one student comments, his voice loud, making the situation feel even more awkward.
Great. Just great.
You let out a sigh of relief when the professor comes in, saving you from further humiliation.
"Alright, everyone," he begins, "let's get a real discussion going. I want to hear your thoughts on mental health, but I don't want the usual, textbook answers. I want something real, something personal. What do you think are the greatest factors affecting mental health today? Be specific."
The tension in the room is palpable as the discussion begins.
Minghao, who just arrived, leans back with his usual nonchalance.
"Simple," he says, barely glancing around. "It's about access. Mental health care is a privilege for many, and not having the right resources is the root of the issue."
Joshua chimes in, "Right. No resources, no help. That's the bottom line."
What a classic argument!
"I beg to differ," you snap. "The real issue is the stigma. People avoid discussing mental health or acknowledging it because they fear being labeled as weak. We could have all the resources we need, but as long as society treats mental health as something shameful, nothing will improve."
One of the pretty ladies Minghao came with, who's been sitting at the back with an insufferably smug smile, speaks. "So, what? You think if we just talk about it more, it'll magically fix everything? You can't erase years of stigma with a few nice words."
You sigh. "You're missing the point. I'm suggesting we start acknowledging the problem for what it is, not erasing it. Whether rich or poor—no one is immune."
Wonwoo's voice cuts through the tension like ice. "In the real world, only those who can detach themselves from external and internal chaos are more likely to achieve their goals. Simple as that. Do you think everyone cares about your feelings?"
His words strike a nerve. His question seems intentional—the coldness, the calculated indifference.
The tension snaps.
"Sure, ignoring the chaos might help you climb the ladder, but success without awareness is just a race to the top that leaves you empty in the end. Here's a question, how long can you pretend?" You press the point home, your voice cold, precise.
"As long as it takes to get what I want. The real question is, how long can you afford to care?" Wonwoo responds, voice low but intense.
"Long enough to know that mental health matters more than any goal. You can keep pretending, but sooner or later, the pressure will break you. Success without balance isn't worth anything if you lose yourself in the process," you reply, equaling his gaze.
The room falls silent, thick with unspoken words. The professor's voice finally breaks the tense silence. "Well. I think that was quite the discussion." He clears his throat. "But I'm afraid we're out of time."
You find solace in the garden's nook, not frequented by students. The heated exchange earlier had not only thrust your name into the spotlight but had also drawn unwanted attention. Some people admired your boldness; at the same time, you've created eternal foes.
God! The first day of school, and already my reputation is being molded in the flames of rivalry and resentment.
You think you've found peace in this quiet, tucked-away corner, but your peace is short-lived.
A graceful figure steps into the garden, her presence as poised as ever, but there's an underlying tension that you can't ignore. She's the type of person who always maintains control, even in situations where others might lose theirs.
"Quite the speech in class," she comments, her voice soft, but sharp. "You're making waves already."
Your unknowing look makes her burst into laughter. She takes a step closer to you, her lips curving into a polite smile, but there's a coldness beneath it like she's preparing for a confrontation.
"Silly me! My name's Charmaine Leigh and this is Jessica Park," she introduces with a newfound amusement.
Her family's name rings with influence—her father is a prominent figure in politics, often seen negotiating behind closed doors, shifting the balance of power in subtle but undeniable ways.
Her eyes flicker to your face, measuring your reaction. It's clear—Charmaine sees you as a potential threat.
"You've got guts. But don't forget, here, being heard comes at a price. You might want to think carefully about your next move," Charmaine adds, her tone almost threatening but with an air of warning that suggests she doesn't want to be your enemy.
You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, a light laugh cuts through the tense air.
"Careful now, Charmaine. Don't scare her off so soon. You might need someone to stir the pot for you later," Jessica breezes next to you.
As the cousin of Seungkwan, Jessica's ties to the Boo Media Empire are strong, though she has little interest in the business itself. Instead, she's known for her social prowess—attending every gala, every event that promises the most power, influence, and gossip. Jessica doesn't just fit in; she thrives on being the center of attention. In her world, image is everything, and she's mastered the art of making everyone around her feel like they're part of her personal drama.
"Don't mind her," Jessica says, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Charmaine's just trying to protect her little corner of the world. But then again, I wouldn't be too worried. There's always room for someone with your... passion."
You shoot her a sharp look, but Jessica's grin only widens, clearly amused by the displeasure she's causing.
Suddenly, you hear a rustle from the edge of the garden. Jun appears, hands stuffed in his pockets.
With an air of disinterest, he pulls out a sleek, black envelope, the gold-embossed seal on the back glinting in the sunlight. It's the kind of letter that demands attention and carries weight.
"I assume this is for you," Jun says. "The Thirteen personally requested you to join us tonight."
You raise an eyebrow at him, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected nature of this. You chuckle. "Me? In your party? Oh c'mon! You must be kidding."
Jun tilts his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, almost inscrutable smile. "I heard you've made enough of an impression on the others already." He pauses as if choosing his words carefully. "We value... interesting minds."
The meaning of his words sinks in. And you are no fool to believe it.
Jessica lets out a small, knowing chuckle from behind. "Their little invitations are always so... charming. But be careful, new girl. Once you're in their web, there's no easy way out."
Jun interjects smoothly, "See you tonight. And please do something with your face!"
You look down at the letter in your hand, the gold seal mocking you with its pristine perfection. Inside, you know, lies an invitation to a world far darker and more complicated than you've ever imagined.
And in that moment, you understand one thing clearly: this isn't just an event—it's a game. And you've been invited to play.