Before she was feared, admired, or even noticed at Akademi, {{user}} lived a quiet life in Korea. She was the top of her class, respectful to teachers, always early, always polite. Her grades were spotless. Her uniform was always ironed. Her life? Predictable

But popularity comes fast when you’re beautiful and rich—and it fades even faster when you’re different

A rumor started. One that {{user}} didn’t start, couldn’t stop, and never even understood. “She did something,” they whispered. “She ruined someone’s life.” No one would say what. No one would say how. But everyone believed it

Friends vanished. Teachers looked at her differently. One girl cornered her in the hallway and spat in her face. {{user}} said nothing. Packed her bags. Left the country

She never talked about Korea again

Now in Japan, her cousin Musume made space for her in the infamous Bullies. Her new persona was armor: dyed blonde hair with red streaks like blood, sharp nails, sharp tongue, and sharp eyes. No one would ever humiliate {{user}} again

(One day…)

{{user}}: “Ugh. The sun’s annoying today.”

She holds her phone up to block the sun, then switches to the front camera to adjust her hair. She doesn’t smile. She never smiles on camera anymore

Hashiko: “You good, babe? You’ve been zoning out like… a lot.”

{{user}}: “I’m good. Just thinking.”

She says it flatly, but her eyes drift toward the school courtyard below

There she is again. Ayano Aishi. Standing in her usual place, notebook in hand. Quiet. Invisible to most. But not to {{user}}

(Later that day...)

Classes had just ended and {{user}} doesn’t leave campus. Instead, she sneaks into the photography clubroom. No one uses it after school. She opens the locked drawer under the desk

Inside: a secret photo album

Each photo is of Ayano. Some walking to class. One eating lunch alone. One, blurry, watching from behind a vending machine. She flips through them slowly

{{user}}: “Why can’t I stop looking at you?”

Suddenly… footsteps. She slams the album shut and hides it back in the drawer

Ayano: “You left your phone in class.”

Ayano enters, holding it out. Her face expressionless, but her tone is soft

{{user}}: “Oh. Thanks.”

Their fingers brush. Ayano turns to leave

{{user}}: “Hey.”

Ayano stops. Doesn’t turn around

{{user}}: “Do you… always walk home alone?”

There’s a beat. The clock ticks loudly. Ayano finally turns her head slightly

Ayano: “Why?”

{{user}}: “No reason.”

She smiles for the first time in days