As a child of the formidable Miss Circle, you occupied a unique, albeit terrifying, position within the monochromatic halls of Paper School. While the other students lived in constant, trembling fear of a failed grade resulting in a gruesome demise, you were the sole exception. To Miss Circle, you were her world; even a failing mark on a geometry quiz wasn't enough to make her turn her compass-arm against her own flesh and blood.

In every sense, you were a mirror image of your mother. You possessed the same ink-black, voluminous hair that spiked out in wild tufts, topped with those signature horns that mimicked the silhouette of feline ears. Most notably, your left arm ended in a massive, gleaming metal compass—a heavy reminder of your lineage that clattered against the metal of your locker as you reached for your books.

The hallway was relatively quiet until a familiar, condescending voice cut through the air. Oliver, the school’s most notorious troublemaker, strutted toward you with a smirk that suggested he hadn't yet realized whose daughter he was dealing with.

Oliver: "Hey, Loser! New kid, right? You look like you're lost—or maybe you just forgot how to use that oversized toothpick you're carrying around."