It's 8:30 AM. Yuna's class started 15 minutes ago, but she's still charging down the hallway, the echo of her hurried footsteps bouncing off the empty walls. Rushing isn't new to her—it's practically a habit at this point. But today feels different. Last night, sleep was a luxury she couldn't afford—not even two hours of rest, and now her body's paying the price. Still, she doesn't slow down. Her large glasses slide down her nose with every step, blurring her view. The cap on her head is there to hide her messy hair, not for style. Her hoodie, far too big for her, drapes over her small frame, looking like it was meant for someone much older. The uniform? looks like she is not wearing the uniform ,the uniform is wearing her .But Yuna doesn't care. It's her look, her own brand of disheveled genius. In a world that moves too fast, she's always a little behind—but somehow, she always catches up.
She skids to a halt outside the door, her breath uneven. Quickly, she fixes her hair—not that it helps—and tugs at the hem of her hoodie before straightening up. With one last deep breath, she pushes the door open.
"May I... come in, sir?" Her voice barely above a whisper.
The class goes silent.
It's an English lesson. But more importantly, it's Mr. Kiefer's class. A name that sends shivers through students not because of his brilliance, but because of his sheer ruthlessness.
The moment Yuna speaks, his cold, dead glare cuts through her like a blade. The kind that makes you feel small, like an inconvenience.
She almost stumbles backward.
Then—slowly—he shifts his gaze to the clock hanging on the wall, letting the silence stretch painfully.
Yuna stands frozen, feeling the weight of Mr. Kiefer's glare pressing down on her like an iron hand. The room is silent—too silent. The kind that makes your pulse pound in your ears.
Her fingers clutch the hem of her hoodie. She doesn't dare to meet his eyes.
a sigh drifts from the back of the class.
"This girl…" Kotoko mutters, shaking her head as she watches the scene unfold.
"Miss Yuna," his voice is sharp, slicing through the thick air. "Class started fifteen minutes ago. Are you aware of how to read a clock?"
A few muffled snickers ripple through the classroom. Yuna exhales softly, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She knows this routine. He enjoys this—public humiliation.
"I…", her voice wavers, but she forces herself to speak. "I'm sorry, sir. I had a rough night."
Mr. Kiefer arches a brow, his lips curling into something dangerously close to amusement. "Oh? A rough night? And did this 'rough night' also strip you of the ability to set an alarm?"
More laughter.
Yuna's fingers tighten around her hoodie sleeves. She won't let him win.
"No, sir. I just didn't sleep."
The words slip out before she can stop them. She sees Kotoko's head snap toward her in alarm. Yuna mentally curses herself. She should've just apologized and sat down.
Mr. Kiefer's expression darkens. He leans back against his desk, arms crossed.
"Ah. So, you're now making excuses?" he taunts. "Tell me, Yuna, do universities accept 'rough nights' instead of actual grades? Do exam papers care about your lack of sleep?"
Yuna's jaw tightens. She wants to say something—anything—but she knows how this goes. No matter what she says, he'll twist it against her.
"No, sir," she says quietly.
"Exactly," he smirks. "Now, unless you plan on wasting more of my time, take your seat."
Yuna exhales through her nose and forces her legs to move.
She doesn't dare look at anyone as she makes her way to her desk. But she feels the eyes—the stares—digging into her back like needles.
She sits. Drops her bag to the floor.
"Idiot," Kotoko whispers, nudging her lightly under the table. "Why did you talk back?"
Yuna leans forward, resting her arms on the desk. She sighs, eyes half-lidded.
"Dunno," she murmurs. "Felt like living on the edge."
Kotoko snorts. "Dumbass."
Despite everything, Yuna almost smiles.
As Yuna slips into her seat, she exhales sharply, trying to steady her breath. The room still feels heavy with Mr. Kiefer's glare, but at least she's out of direct fire—for now.
"You're so stupid" Kotoko mutters, nudging Yuna's arm with her pen.
Yuna groans, letting her forehead drop onto the desk. "If I don't get at least one hour of sleep today, just bury me in the schoolyard."
"Not happening. Too much paperwork. Also, I don't wanna be questioned by cops."
"Tch. Fake friend," Yuna mumbles.
Before Kotoko can retort, **a paper ball smacks Yuna's head .
cross the aisle, a familiar troublemaker, Renji, is smirking at her. His desk is half-covered in doodles, his tie is missing (as always), and his whole vibe screams "I only come to school for the chaos."
"Rise from the dead already, Zombie Yuna," he teases, twirling his pen between his fingers.
Yuna glares at him, rubbing her forehead. "Do you have a hobby other than being annoying?"
"Nope. But thanks for asking."
Kotoko sighs dramatically. "Renji, do you ever stop being a headache?"
"Not in my skill set, babe." He winks, and Kotoko immediately pretends to throw up.
Meanwhile, Mr. Kiefer clears his throat loudly, silencing the entire class. Yuna quickly grabs her book and tries to blend into her seat like a ninja avoiding detection.
"Enough." Mr. Kiefer's voice cuts through the whispers like a blade. "If I hear one more irrelevant word, I'll be grading your papers in red ink only. And trust me, none of you can afford that."
Silence falls instantly.
Yuna exhales, finally allowing herself to sink into her chair. She glances at the board, trying to focus—but the ghost of a smirk lingers on her lips.
Even on the worst days, somehow, life still finds a way to be amusing.
The school hallway buzzed with noise—chatter, footsteps, lockers slamming shut. Yuna and Kotoko walked at their usual lazy pace, half-eaten sandwiches in hand., navigating through the crowd like it was second nature.
"If I get one more of Mr. Kiefer's death glares, I might actually combust," Yuna groaned, stretching her arms dramatically.
Kotoko smirked. "Please. You live for it."
"I do not!" Yuna gasped. "That man looks at me like I am the reason for his bald hair.
Kotoko shrugged. "You were late again."
"Human makes mistakes its normal dude" Yuna said(fixing her cap and glasses )
(Kotoko stands up ) Lets go to get some coffee
(Yuna start walking beside her ,notices the earphones in her hair) Is it new earphones?I didn't saw it before (smirk)
"Yeah ,my mom sent it from Japan , you may try those are really good quality"(Kotoko said)
Yuna huffed. _"Whatever. I need to cleanse my spirit. Time for my **ritual dance.
And with that, **she started dancing.**
Not a normal dance. Oh no. It was **chaotic.** Arms flailing, legs kicking out like a malfunctioning robot, her hoodie slipping off her shoulder every few seconds. She spun in circles, snapping her fingers in an offbeat rhythm, **completely unaware of the stares she was gathering.**
Kotoko? She had already accepted her fate and was now watching with the expression of someone who had seen too much. _"I don't know this person,"_ she muttered under her breath.
But then—
**BAM.**
Yuna **slammed into something.** Or rather, **someone.**
A solid chest. Warm, firm, **annoyingly** sturdy.
She stumbled back, her glasses almost falling off her nose, and **looked up.**
And **there he was.** !
A guy—**masked, hooded, effortlessly cool.** His oversized hoodie draped over his tall frame, the sleeves slightly covering his hands. His cap was pulled low, shadowing his sharp, unreadable eyes. His entire vibe screamed **"mystery."** But not the forced, cringey kind. No—he looked like someone who **wasn't trying but still pulled it off flawlessly.** Anyone can tell he has cold type habit.
And worst of all?
**He had just witnessed the full horror of Yuna's dance.**
For a second, there was **silence.**
Then—
_"What the hell was that?"_ His voice was low, amused, **infuriatingly nonchalant.**
Yuna, still recovering, blinked. _"Excuse me?"_
_"That thing you were just doing,"_ he continued, **deadpan.** _"Are you possessed? Or just naturally cursed?"_
Yuna's jaw **dropped.** _"LISTEN HERE, YOU—"_
But before she could finish, **he nudged her shoulder lightly and flicked something toward her.**
**A candy.**
She caught it by reflex, confused.
_"For your… energy,"_ he said, walking away, **and that's when she saw it.**
The tiniest smile. Hidden under his mask, but clear in his eyes.**
Yuna stared after him, stunned.
Kotoko, finally recovering from her own shock, slowly turned to Yuna.
_"Did you just—"_
_"NO, I DID NOT."_
But her ears? **They were burning.**
Yuna stood there, still holding the candy like it was some kind of cursed object. That guy.Who even was he? And why did he throw a candy at her like she was some starving peasant in a tragic novel?
"For your… energy."
The audacity.
She scowled, shoving the candy into her hoodie pocket. She wasn't about to let some random masked fashionista mess with her dignity. Not today.
Kotoko, ever the observer, smirked. "So… your new soulmate, huh?"
"Shut up," Yuna muttered, pulling her hoodie tighter around herself as they continued walking.
But there wasn't time to dwell on it.
Because Momo was waiting.
If there was a single person Yuna could have deleted from existence without hesitation, it would be Momo.
Momo was everything Yuna wasn't—rich, pretty, tall, and, most importantly, an absolute nightmare. She wasn't just your typical mean girl. Oh no. She was worse. She was dumb and evil. The worst combination.
And, as expected, the moment Yuna and Kotoko walked into the cafeteria, Momo locked onto her target.
"Oh my god, look who it is?