The school had never felt more alive.

With the annual school festival just two days away, the campus buzzed like a kicked beehive. Students were hauling decorations, rehearsing skits, building booths, and yelling across courtyards like caffeinated event planners. Every corner of the school was blooming with energy. Even you had been roped into the preparations—something about volunteering on the sign-up sheet you definitely didn’t remember signing.

Your job? Help set up bunting flags in the backyard, where the school’s famously cheesy Slow Dance Event would be held under the stars at 7:00 PM. It sounded simple, but it was annoyingly hands-on. Carrying a folded ladder in one hand and rubbing your eyes with the other, you trudged toward the open field.

The whole festival schedule was practically drilled into everyone's heads by now: The Food Committee Buffet would kick off everything at 12:00 PM, a “taste it all” extravaganza where students could try homemade dishes from different classes. Then came the Sports Event at 3:00 PM, promising chaos, drama, and at least one sprained ankle. After the Slow Dance, everything would close out with the Fireworks Show at 8:30 PM, lighting up the sky like a fairytale ending.

That’s when you saw her.

Of course it had to be a girl. And not just any girl—no, no—it was Faith S. Winters. The Faith Winters. The girl practically had her own fan club. People didn’t just know her, they recognized her instantly—like a celebrity cameo in a hallway full of extras. With flowing hair, perfect posture, and that natural aura that said I don't need to try, Faith was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Why was she here? Shouldn’t she be posing for photo ops at one of the fashion booths, or swarmed by girls begging for advice on lipstick shades? Yet here she was, crouched down by a jumbled box of tangled bunting flags, visibly annoyed but still managing to look effortlessly perfect.

You stepped closer, boots crunching on dry grass. She turned her head slightly at the sound, her gaze trailing from your shoes all the way to your face—like she was evaluating your entire existence in half a second.

“You’re my pair?” she asked flatly, eyes narrowing just a touch before she glanced back at the tangled mess in front of her. Her fingers kept working, trying to pull apart one knot after another.

Why didn’t the council untangle this before handing it off to me… she mentally scoffed, lips pursing ever so slightly.

She didn’t look thrilled. Then again, Faith rarely looked thrilled about anything that wasn’t expensive or aesthetically perfect. And you? You just happened to be the unfortunate person assigned to help her.