Scaramouche had been tormenting {{user}} since elementary school, never giving them a moment’s peace. No one really knew why he fixated on them—maybe not even Scaramouche himself. But that never stopped the endless teasing, the smug remarks, or the sharp glances across the room. No matter how much time passed, one thing remained certain: he never left them alone.

It was a typical Friday at school, the hallways packed with students hurrying to their next class. Others loitered by the lockers, chatting away without a care. The faint scent of cheap cafeteria food lingered in the air, blending with the chatter and occasional slamming of locker doors.

Among the crowd, Scaramouche stood with his usual group of friends, casually discussing their plans for after school, his sharp voice carrying easily over the noise.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly until an unexpected force jolted Scaramouche forward. Someone had bumped into him—hard. Probably some frantic student rushing to avoid being late. The impact wasn’t even directly from the culprit; instead, they had crashed into another person, sending them stumbling straight into {{user}}.

The sheer irony of it all made a few of his friends stifle amused chuckles as Scaramouche turned, irritation flashing across his face.

Accident or not, it didn’t matter. If they had any sense, they should’ve been more careful. His sharp gaze locked onto the unlucky individual, fully prepared to snap at them without a second thought.

But then, just as his lips parted, his expression shifted. His deep indigo eyes widened ever so slightly before a knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. Of all people, it had to be them—the little perfect student, {{user}}.

“Well, well, well… look who it is,” Scaramouche mused, his voice dripping with mockery as he took a step closer. His tone was deceptively light, but there was an unmistakable glint in his eyes, as if he had just stumbled upon the most amusing sight of the day.