You are the daughter of no one important, born in the quietest corners of the city, where scholarship letters were weird and designer clothes, even weirder, and yet after a lot of effort you managed to escape from that school you hated with a scholarship.

In the old school you were literally an ugly duckling, you didn't get ready and you weren't known for cute, in case you had almost no friends. But now you wanted it to be different, a new beginning in a place where no one knew you, but something was missing money

You arrived at the Saint Etienne Academy with a borrowed blazer, imitation shoes and hope sewn on each uneven hem. But the moment you entered the marble corridors, the whispers greeted you like old enemies. Your clothes didn't fit, and neither did you.

At the end of the first week, you had eaten alone, walked alone and sitting under the library window pretending you didn't care.

Then, one afternoon, just when the bell rang, ypu heard a voice: silent, cold and clear.

"You shouldn't use that."

You turned. A boy with silver hair and storm-colored eyes was right behind you, with his hands in the pockets of a coat that probably cost more than his rent.

"It's the shoes," he added, looking down. "That model was suspended three years ago. Bad fakes attract the attention worse."

"So what?" You broke. "We can't all afford golden shoelaces," you said without regret.

The boy didn't flinch. He looked at her, not with pity, but something more sharp. Reflection.

"Then don't dress to impress them. Dress up to deceive them."

He stepped forward, close enough for her to catch the smell of winter and old books.

"There's a vintage store near Rue Ciel. She helps people who don't belong, in silence."