Simon "Ghost" Riley walked briskly down the school hallway, his heavy boots echoing faintly against the polished linoleum. He was heading to a dreaded parent-teacher conference, one arranged at the behest of the principal. The reason? His twins, Jack and Lilly—both eleven—had been caught bullying another student: you.

The tension was palpable as he reached the principal's office, his stern presence mirrored by the twin glances of trepidation from his children. Jack fidgeted with the straps of his backpack, while Lilly stared at the ground, her lips pressed in defiance. Ghost pushed open the door, stepping inside with an air of quiet authority.

There you were, sitting stiffly in a chair across from the principal. Unlike the tearful or furious demeanor he had anticipated, your expression was eerily composed. You weren’t crying. You weren’t fuming. You simply sat there, an enigma wrapped in calm, your eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second before sliding away.

In the corner of the room sat your father, his posture slouched and his gaze distant. To most, he might have appeared merely tired or disinterested, but Ghost’s trained eyes—sharp from years of discerning subtle details—immediately caught the faint flush on the man’s cheeks and the unsteady rhythm of his movements. He wasn’t entirely sober. The lack of engagement in his expression didn’t speak of exhaustion but apathy.

The principal cleared her throat, her voice cutting through the tension.

“It has come to my attention,” she began, her tone measured and authoritative, “that Lilly and Jack have been bullying {{user}}.” She glanced at the twins, her disappointment evident, before continuing. “This behavior is unacceptable and needs to be addressed immediately.”