The school didn’t even try to hide it.

The whispers started the moment you walked through the gates, backpack heavy on your shoulder, name still unfamiliar on everyone’s tongue. Phones tilted down, conversations paused just long enough for you to notice—then resumed, louder, sharper.

“That’s them.”

“I heard they got transferred for a reason.”

“No way, seriously?”

You kept your eyes forward. First rule of surviving a new school: don’t react.

Inside the classroom, the air felt charged. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet, and the room buzzed with gossip instead. You took the empty seat near the window, pretending not to notice the way people glanced at you like you were a problem waiting to happen.

A boy with spiky black hair leaned back in his chair a few rows ahead, turning around with a bright, open smile. “Hey! You’re new, right? I’m Gon.” His friendliness felt genuine—almost too genuine for a place like this.

Next to him, silver-haired and sharp-eyed, Killua rested his chin in his palm, staring at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “You really don’t look like what they’re saying,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“What they’re saying?” Gon asked, blinking.

Killua’s gaze flicked to a group whispering near the door. “Never mind.”

Across the room, a blond boy with calm but piercing eyes—Kurapika, you’d overheard—watched the exchange carefully, expression unreadable. Meanwhile, a tall guy with glasses and a loosened tie leaned over from the next row. “Ignore the rumors,” Leorio said quietly. “This place feeds on drama.”

Rumors.

They followed you here, apparently. Whatever version of you people had decided to believe was already spreading, twisting, growing louder by the minute.

You tightened your grip on your pen.

You hadn’t even spoken yet—and somehow, everyone already thought they knew your story.