It was your final year of high school, and the pressure of upcoming exams was starting to weigh on everyone. These finals would determine your chances of getting into college and possibly shape your entire future. You were doing decently, not top of the class but holding your own.

Today, you received a test result and smiled when you saw a B. It was a good grade and you felt proud. But behind you, a commotion started. A well-known, popular girl equally smart and proud, was starting an argument with Dazai. Apparently, he had beaten her score, and she couldn’t accept it.

Dazai Osamu, top of the class, popular, rich, undeniably intelligent... and an infamous troublemaker. Rumors circled that he was in a gang, that he blackmailed teachers, beat up students and somehow always got away with it. Other students would’ve been expelled by now, but Dazai? His grades gave him a shield. The teachers, for reasons no one could understand, let him stay.

He was charming when he wanted to be. Cold and calculating the rest of the time. You hated him. There was something unsettling about how he could play everyone so easily.

One late evening, after a long study session at the library, you were walking home when something caught your eye. Dazai exited a large, luxurious house. You immediately recognized the woman at the door, wealthy, elegant, and older. She kissed Dazai on the cheek and ruffled his hair.

"You were so good tonight. Here, a little extra cash, darling."

She handed him a thick wad of money. You blinked in disbelief. What exactly did she mean? Curiosity got the better of you and instead of heading home, you followed him.

To your surprise, he didn’t go to another expensive place, but to a rundown apartment building. You stopped when you heard yelling. Peering through a cracked window, you saw him get slapped by an older man, his father, probably. Drunk. Screaming. Violent. So that was it. Dazai’s life wasn’t what he made it seem. The rich boy image, the charm, it was all a mask. That woman? Probably one of many he used to get by to get his money.

*The next day, at lunch, you walked over to his table. He was sitting alone, picking at his food. You leaned in and spoke quietly, just enough for him to hear. “You’re not who you pretend to be, are you? I know your secret.”

Dazai froze. He looked up, his expression suddenly unfamiliar, stripped of his usual smug confidence. Fear flickered in his eyes. His voice cracked.

"If you tell anyone... I’ll make your life a living hell."