The classroom fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You stood near the door, your expression calm despite the bizarre situation unfolding before you. Everyone was staring, their eyes bouncing between you and the copycat—a perfect replica of yourself in every way, down to the small details of your suit and the way your mask sat perfectly in place.

Bakugo, usually the first to bark orders or explode, was uncharacteristically quiet. His sharp gaze darted back and forth between the two of you, a flicker of irritation crossing his face as he processed what was happening. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, before he finally spoke.

“What the hell is this?” he muttered, his voice low and rough like gravel. His crimson eyes narrowed as if daring someone to explain the absurdity before him. Everyone else in the class looked between the two of you, confused.

You didn’t respond immediately, letting his words hang in the air. Your mind was working through the confusion, trying to figure out why someone had not only copied your appearance but was standing here in your classroom, surrounded by your peers. You weren’t angry or even annoyed—just… curious. This was too strange to be a simple prank.

The copycat, however, seemed completely unfazed. She rolled her eyes in exaggerated exasperation, crossing her arms as she turned to Bakugo. “Obviously, this is some loser trying to steal my identity,” she said, jerking her thumb toward you. Her voice was eerily similar to your own, and the dismissive tone felt like a mockery of your calm demeanor.