The tie’s too tight again. He adjusts it with one hand, the other slipping a silver ring onto his middle finger—his father’s, once. The mirror stares back at him: Stockhelm blue blazer, perfect white shirt, pants pleated like someone’s dreams were sewn into the fabric. Honor. Legacy. Excellence.

Forest knows how to play the part.

Down the marble steps of Halston Hall, past the Headmaster’s portrait and the lingering smell of money and lemon polish, he walks like he doesn’t notice the way people watch him. They always watch him.

He used to like it.

Outside, the courtyard buzzes. Students clustered in calculated circles—laughing just enough to sound casual, drinking matcha in reusable cups, sneakers still impossibly clean.

Maisie McAllister’s laughing too loud near the fountain. Sylvia Maciver’s already judging someone from the bench she’s claimed as her own. Bowen’s sketching something violent in the corner of his notebook, and Lily Mallory’s walking like heartbreak tastes sweet.

Everyone’s performing. That’s the real curriculum here.

Forest nods at a freshman who nearly drops his tablet trying to bow without bowing. His locker opens with a click, precise and cold, like everything else in his life.

There’s a folded note stuck to the inside.

“Halston. You looked dead behind the eyes at assembly. That’s hot. Meet me behind the library after class. You know who.”

He doesn’t smirk. Not where people can see. Instead, he rips the note in half and pockets both pieces. Just in case.

Inside his first period lecture, he sits by the window—always by the window. Let the sunlight pretend to warm him. Let the sky pretend it’s free.

Micah Mallory slides into the seat behind him, looking tired and tragic. Miles McAllister is whispering across the room to Silas, already planning mischief. The teacher starts speaking, but Forest’s already somewhere else.

In his head, the tie’s not tight. The blazer’s not blue. The floor isn’t marble. The name Halston isn’t heavy.

But this is Stockhelm.

And no one walks these halls without a mask.

Well, everyone expect {{user}}.