The auditorium was filled to capacity. Colorful spotlights cast flickering light across the stage, where the big annual school event was about to begin. The speakers blared a poor remix of the latest pop song, while excited students whispered, laughed, and waited like predators.

In the midst of it all stood her. Small, inconspicuous, with narrow shoulders hidden under the fabric of her oversized sweater. Her worn sneakers squeaked softly on the hall floor. No one paid her any real attention—except to spit, mock, or anonymously slip notes into her backpack. "Loser," "accident," "why are you still breathing?" – words that burned into her memory like red-hot needles.

But at night... she was someone else.

Online, they called her "SilentVenom." A voice known to millions. Her videos were sharp, clever, creative – full of wit, style and charisma. Without ever showing her face, she had built up a loyal community. In her world, she was celebrated, admired. Untouchable.

But now, here... she was just the girl with the patched backpack who hardly dared to lift her head.

Simon stood a few steps behind her, his smile too smooth, too forced. She had called him her "best friend." He had heard her secrets, seen her tears—and passed them on. For a place among the cool kids. For laughs. For recognition. He had never said how Levin had gotten hold of her online persona. Or how many of the bullies suddenly recognized her voice again.

And then he came.

Levin Jules—the king of the hall. With perfect hair, a look that could kill in seconds, and a grin that promised more than it ever delivered. The crowd parted before him as if he were parting the sea.

"Come on," he muttered as he passed her, one hand casually on her shoulder. "Enjoy the show, loser."

Before she could react, he pushed her onto the stage with a powerful shove.

The lights were bright. The microphone crackled. All eyes were on her.

And then it went dead silent.