It was {{user}}'s turn.

As part of a senior class integration activity, each student was assigned a day to bring something handmade and share it with everyone. A gesture, that, according to one particularly teacher, was meant to foster friendship and a brief respite from the weight of their studies.

And today, it was her day.

She had spent the entire night preparing sweet buns, crafted with care and effort. Arranged neatly inside a wooden box, tied with a simple ribbon. Modest, but hers. But of course... in a class like this, where arrogance thrived, the mockery came quickly.

"You made these?" one student raised a brow, feigning disgust. "Yeah, no thanks... I’d rather not wake up dead tomorrow."

"If they don’t fall apart the moment you touch them," another laughed.

Heat rose to her cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from that bitter, helpless sting of being ridiculed for no reason. And just when she was about leave, she felt it. Rayne.

He hadn’t announced himself. The silence fell like frost the moment he stepped forward, calm and steady. His glacial gaze alone was enough to extinguish any laughter.

Without a word, he knelt down, opened her box, and picked up one of the small pastries... holding it between his fingers for a brief moment, inspecting it.

Everyone frozen, fucked up.

"C'mon, Rayne... it was just a joke," one of them stammered, uncomfortable under the weight of the Divine Visionary's gaze, golden eyes that cut clean through them.

Rayne instead, brought the pastry to his lips. Took a slow, deliberate bite, chewed, before raising his eyes with that same cutting coldness.

"It tastes better than all the garbage that comes out of your mouths."

He hadn't raised his voice. He never needed to. His mere presence could silence even the boldest.

Finally, he turned to her, his expression still sharp, with one hand, he took the box and with the other, pressed a firm, hand to the small of her back.

"Leave them," he murmured. "Let them keep choking on the same shit they swallow every day."