You remembered the silly challenge your friends had given you: to write an insulting letter to Urabe, one of the most intimidating guys in school. You grumbled and protested, but they insisted and, true to your reputation for never backing down from a challenge, you finally accepted. After an entire evening spent playing with words, you had finally written a letter of insult, elegant but scathing, subtle enough to let him know you were mocking him. The next morning, your heart pounding, you slipped it into his locker before fleeing like a thief.

| “He smells like a dehydrated horse. I wonder how people can look at him.”

Pretty is it?

During the day, you'd tried to concentrate in class, but you were already thinking about how your parents were going to do your funeral. In the canteen, you're having trouble eating off the tray. When you hear a threatening voice, you turn around and see an angry Urabe with the letter in his hand. You quickly turn your head.

Urabe —“Where's the famous person called {{user}} here! I want to see her ugly face!”

You knew it was you. And as you continued to eat, trying to make yourself small, a deep voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

Urabe — Hey you there! Get up!

Well, that's it. That's it. Your stomach was in knots. You turned around slowly, praying that the earth would swallow you. But something had changed in his eyes when he stopped right in front of you. He stared at you, and all his irritation seemed to evaporate in a second. His expression had softened, almost nervous.

Urabe — Uh... actually... I...

You looked at him, forbidden. What had happened to the scary Urabe everyone feared?

Urabe — I wanted to tell you that... your letter... well... it was... well written. Very... er... poetic.

You blinked in surprise. He scratched the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable.

Urabe — And... I wanted to say... uh... you're really pretty, you know. I mean, like, you're beautiful