The Unpredictable Thread of Fate

High School Era: What Counts as Cool? Of course, it was academic performance. And I considered myself at least one of the good students. In the top high school of the provincial capital, with a student body of 3,000, I consistently ranked within the top 50, securing a spot in the elite class. Though, in the eyes of the other "freakishly brilliant" students in that class, I was practically an underachiever. Standing over 180 cm tall and weighing around 160 pounds, I was naturally appointed by our homeroom teacher—who also happened to be the grade dean—as the class leader and P.E. monitor, essentially the caretaker of these geniuses. Honestly, in a school like ours, making the top 50 meant you had what it took to get into the Ivy League. Everyone had their pride, and I was no exception. At the very least, I looked down a little on those bookworms who did nothing but study. Well, except for one person. She was always in the top five, a prized student the school nurtured for the Ivy League. But what made her stand out the most wasn’t just her grades—it was the sheer contrast between us. She was probably around 170 cm, weighing less than 100 pounds, a petite beauty with delicate features, perfect proportions, and a pair of big, mischievous eyes that sparkled with an indescribable charm. Unsurprisingly, she was the object of countless boys’ affections. Her name was Vivian. To me, she was like the sprite from a popular cartoon—adorable, beautiful, kind. I called her "Sprite." Later, when we got closer, I took to calling her "little imp." We were the only two in class who weren’t from the provincial capital, so on weekends when everyone else went home, it was often just the two of us studying in the classroom. Being the class leader, I naturally got to know her better over time. During our chats, I discovered we shared one thing in common: we both thought everyone else was a "bookworm." Of course, I knew her attitude wasn’t out of jealousy—she was just aloof. With her top-five status, she had no reason to envy anyone. Still, most of the time, we just focused on our own studies. One weekend, like usual, the classroom was empty except for us. After some reading, we started chatting. Casually, I asked her, "Aren’t you scared staying here alone on weekends?" Vivian shot me a glance. "Wow, way to hit a sore spot. I’m terrified every night, but home’s too far, so what can I do?" I smirked at her. The little imp seemed to read my mind and punched my arm, laughing. "Don’t even think about it." I grinned. "You’re the one thinking too much. Even if I wanted to stand guard outside your dorm, the matron would murder me." Honestly, believe it or not, I swear my thoughts were completely pure at that moment. Really. But what shocked me most was when she suddenly blushed and said, "Actually… if you promise not to do anything weird, I can get you into the girls’ dorm." I froze. "Huh?" Vivian hurriedly added, "Don’t get the wrong idea! I really am scared at night, and the matron knows the whole building’s empty except for me. She’s told me more than once that she’d make an exception and let family stay with me." I knew very well how crucial senior year was—it could define the rest of my life. This would mess with my sleep, my studies. After weighing it carefully, rationality won over impulse, and I said firmly, "If you need me, I’ll do it." Come on, I was a guy. What kind of man would say no? Vivian eyed me suspiciously. "You’re not planning anything shady, are you?" I lifted my chin, righteous as a hero in a propaganda film. "Absolutely not." Despite her obvious skepticism, after evening self-study, she successfully smuggled me into the girls’ dorm. Her excuse to the matron? I was her half-brother, a direct blood relative. I have no idea what kind of sweet talk she’d fed the matron before, but the woman didn’t bat an eye—just gave me a reproachful look and said, "You should’ve come to keep your sister company sooner." And just like that, I stepped into a girls’ dorm for the first time in my life, my heart pounding like the first time I’d accidentally wandered into the girls’ bathroom in elementary school. But before I could even savor the moment, the little imp dropped a bombshell: "I don’t trust you. I’m tying you up." I nearly burst out laughing when I saw her holding a shoelace, her face full of mischief. She insisted—if I refused, it meant I had ulterior motives. Helpless, I held my hands together. She deliberately yanked them behind my back and wrapped the shoelace around my wrists in a haphazard knot. Then she pointed to a bed. "That’s mine. You sleep there. I’ll take Jane’s bed. If you need the bathroom, I’ll untie you." I sighed. "Fine." But before I could even lie down, the "rope" slid loose. I gave her a wry look. The little imp blinked. "Huh? I tied it super tight. How’d you get out?" I deadpanned, "Princess, I didn’t even move. It came undone on its own." She huffed. "Stay still. I’ll try again." This time, she wrapped it several times, tugging hard. "Try now." I shifted slightly, and the shoelace slipped off again. After several failed attempts, I wasn’t sure if she was doing it on purpose or just hopeless at knots, but she never managed to secure me. Frustrated, she glared. "Is the shoelace too short?" I smirked. "You just don’t know how to tie someone up. Want me to show you?" Truthfully, I’d never done this before, but some primal instinct flared up at the thought of binding this little sprite. My heart pounded so hard I had to force myself to act casual. Vivian, completely oblivious, happily turned around and put her hands behind her back. "Explain while you do it. If you don’t teach me properly, no sleeping tonight." I picked up the shoelace. "Deal." I crossed her wrists, looped the shoelace around in a crisscross pattern, and tied a tight knot at the base where her fingers couldn’t reach. "Try struggling. See if it holds." She twisted, trying to pull free, but couldn’t. When she tried to find the knot with her fingers, it was just out of reach. After a minute of futile wriggling, she pouted. "I can’t get loose. How’d you tie it so well?" It was only when she looked up that she noticed my expression. Later, she told me my jaw had dropped, my face utterly entranced. But really—how could I not stare? A petite girl in her school uniform, arms bound behind her, squirming in front of me… It was enough to short-circuit any guy’s brain. That was the first time something inside me stirred—an awakening of a desire I hadn’t known existed. I was utterly mesmerized until she nudged me with her shoulder, snapping me out of it. Only then did I realize how inappropriate I’d been—and how red her face had turned. "I’m sorry," I blurted. Still blushing, she eyed me with a flicker of fear. "You’re not gonna… you know, right?" I spoke as solemnly as I could. "I’m really sorry. I didn’t expect you to… affect me like this. But I promise, to me, you’re like a fairy or a princess. I’d never think anything dirty. I just never realized how beautiful you’d look tied up." My serious tone made her giggle. "I really look that good like this?" I nodded emphatically. She laughed. "You’re so bad! I was supposed to tie you up, but you ended up binding me instead. Untie me now!" She turned, lifting her bound hands toward me. Instead of untying her, I took her hands and turned her to face me. "I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have acted like that. But you’re so pretty like this. Can I… keep you tied a little longer before untying you? I promise you’re safe. I just… don’t want to let go yet. I won’t do anything." She giggled, squirming a little. "Fine. Since you’re being so sincere—and it doesn’t hurt—you can keep me tied.