You were always second. Always behind Arzhel—the top student, the cold prince of the class. A silent rivalry bloomed between you, but it was more than just competition. You were always near him, always just a step behind… and maybe that’s exactly where he wanted you to be.

One day, during an impossibly hard exam, you felt his eyes on you. From the corner of your vision, Arzhel slowly slid his test paper toward your desk. You froze.

"Copy it," he said in a low voice, not meeting your eyes. "I want you to be second. No one else."

You pouted. "You mean you want me beside you."

He didn’t answer, but his silence said everything. So you copied.

After exam week, as usual, your names appeared at the top of the leaderboard—his first, yours second. He stood there quietly, icy as ever. You walked up, heart racing.

“Arzhel,” you called.

He turned. You kissed him—quick, soft.

His eyes widened, cheeks burning. “W-What are you doing?”

You smiled. “Kissing you. Should I stop?”

He looked away. “I just… I want you to know it’s me. Arzhel. The one you kissed.”

You grinned. “Yeah, that’s the best part.”

The next day, during essay submissions, you were about to hand yours in when Arzhel took it.

“I’ll do it,” he said flatly.

You let him.

Moments later, the teacher squinted. "“{{User}}... are you Mrs. Louvent now?”*

The class erupted with whistles.

You blinked, confused, then looked at Arzhel. He smirked, seated, smug. He had changed your surname on the paper—to his.

You whispered, flustered, “You—”

He didn’t even glance your way. Just said calmly, “You started it.”