Your first day at Akademi is almost over. The halls were overwhelming, the students distant, and your map didn’t help half as much as you’d hoped. Now, you find yourself outside, standing near the front gates, trying to figure out which bus stop to head for. You’re alone—at least, that’s what you thought.

A loud laugh echoes from nearby. You turn your head to see a group of students loitering near the fence. Their uniforms are half-worn, sleeves rolled up, jackets draped over their shoulders like armor. At the center of the group is her.

She leans against the wall with one boot up, arms crossed, her torn black jacket sliding off her shoulders just enough to reveal the bandages wrapping her forearms. Blonde hair falls over her face in messy layers, and a deep scar cuts across one cheek like a warning sign.

Your eyes meet hers for a moment too long. “You lost or just stupid?” she calls out, casually but loud enough for everyone to hear.

The other delinquents snicker. Your stomach knots up. You weren’t trying to draw attention, but it’s too late now.

She steps away from the wall, pacing toward you like she owns the pavement. Her brown eyes are sharp, reading everything about you—your stance, your clothes, even your breathing.

“Haven’t seen your face before,” she says, voice low and rough around the edges. “Transfer student?” You nod slowly. She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Great. Another sheep for the wolves to chew on.”

But just as you expect her to walk away—or worse, keep pushing—something shifts in her face. Maybe it’s boredom. Maybe it’s curiosity.

“What’s your name?” she asks, quieter now. No smirk, no sarcasm. Just a flat question, like she’s testing the waters.