1. First Day
Today is Aurelia’s first day of Lavalton High School. As she happily holds her bags of candies—intended to share with her classmates.
As she walks in the class before the bell—while everyone is still hanging around in each of the corners of the class, she announced:
“HEY GUYS! I AM NEW HERE, AND I HAVE SOME CANDIES TO SHARE WITH YOU GUYS!”
The classroom chatter instantly flatlined, replaced by a suffocating, collective stillness that felt almost theatrical. Dozens of eyes—some masked in boredom, others sharp with predatory curiosity—slowly pivoted toward the front door.
Bianca Will leaned back against the corner of her desk, a slow, venomous smirk curving her lips. She tossed a gold-plated pen between her fingers, her gaze sweeping over Aurelia’s neatly pressed, yet unmistakably modest, uniform. To the heirs and heiresses of Lavalton High, who wore designer labels like second skin and measured social worth in real estate portfolios, Aurelia’s bright, unassuming smile and the colorful plastic bag of penny candies looked less like a greeting and more like a tragic comedy.
A murmur rippled through the back rows, followed by a sharp, mocking snort from one of Bianca’s sycophants.
In the second row by the tall arched window, Desmond Scott sat motionless. His textbook lay open to a complex macroeconomic analysis, yet his eyes had frozen on the printed page. That voice. That unmistakable, earnest lilt cutting through the sterile silence of the room. He didn’t need to look up to know who was standing at the threshold, clutching a bag of sweets like a peace offering to a pack of wolves.
The familiar scent of peppermint seemed to drift across the room, carrying him back eight years to the cold, antiseptic steps of the municipal shelter. He could still feel the rough texture of the wrapper in his small palm, still remember the starving, hollow look in his own eyes before the Scott family’s black sedan pulled up and changed his entire existence. Back then, that little girl in the faded cotton dress had given away her absolute last piece of comfort without a second thought, asking for nothing in return.
And now, here she was, walking straight into the lion’s den, completely oblivious to the social execution awaiting her in a room full of sharks.
Bianca pushed herself off the desk, her heels clicking sharply against the polished parquet floor as she sauntered toward Aurelia. Her expression was a masterclass in condescension—sweet on the surface, laced with razor blades underneath.
"Well, well, well," Bianca drawled, stopping just a breath away from Aurelia, her eyes scanning the plastic bag with theatrical disdain. "Look what the wind blew in. Tell me, sweetie, did they hand out those little trinkets at the orphanage clearance sale, or are you hoping to bribe your way into a conversation?"
A ripple of cruel laughter echoed through the aisles. Bianca reached out, her manicured fingernail tapping mockingly against the edge of the candy bag. "Down here at Lavalton, we don't really do the whole 'charity' routine. Especially not from someone whose last name was just hastily scribbled onto the family registry last week. So, save your little mints for the kindergarteners. You're out of your depth."
Before Aurelia could fumble for a reply, a heavy textbook snapped shut with a resounding thud three rows over.
The sharp sound cut through the cruel laughter like a guillotine blade. Every head in the classroom jerked toward the window.
Desmond slowly stood up from his desk. He hadn't raised his voice, nor did his expression betray the sudden, fierce storm brewing beneath his calm exterior, but the immediate shift in the room's atmosphere was absolute. The casual arrogance drained from Bianca’s face as Desmond straightened his blazer, his cold, aristocratic gaze locking dead onto hers.
He stepped past his desk, the silence stretching taut as piano wire as he walked with deliberate, unhurried steps straight toward the front of the classroom. He didn't look at Bianca. Instead, his eyes met Aurelia’s wide, startled gaze, a subtle, profound shift softening the usually impenetrable ice in his dark eyes.
He stopped inches from Bianca, towering over her with a chilling, effortless authority that made the queen bee instinctively take a half-step back.
"Some people," Desmond said, his low, resonant voice carrying effortlessly across the silent room, "are intelligent enough to keep their mouths shut when they have nothing of value to say. It's a pity basic etiquette wasn't included in your family’s tuition, Bianca."
Bianca’s face flushed a furious, humiliated crimson, her lips parting to snap back, but the warning glare in Desmond’s eyes paralyzed her tongue. No one crossed Desmond Scott—not because he shouted, but because the weight of the Scott name made everyone in the province tread lightly.
Without breaking eye contact with Bianca, Desmond reached out, gently taking the bag of candies from Aurelia’s trembling fingers. He pulled out a single peppermint, unwrapped it with slow, deliberate precision, and placed it on his tongue.
He looked down at Aurelia, the rigid walls he had spent a decade building around himself quietly crumbling away.
"I'll take the rest," Desmond said quietly, his voice losing its cutting edge as it softened just for her. "And you're sitting with me today."
“Wait! It’s you?! The—…no? Are you that little boy that I…”
