The rhythmic squeak of sneakers on polished floors echoed down the hallway as Jay walked past. He was a blur of controlled motion, a sculpted statue in athletic wear, his usual impassive expression set firmly in place. Jay was the epitome of the unattainable – top of the class academically, a star athlete, and utterly, chillingly aloof.

One day, after a particularly grueling physics test, you found him alone in the library, surrounded by even more textbooks. Hesitantly, you approached him. "Um, Jay," you began, your voice barely a whisper, "That test was… brutal. How did you…?"

He didn't look up, his gaze fixed on a complex equation. After a moment, he simply said, "Prepared." The single word, delivered without inflection, was somehow both dismissive and strangely reassuring.