After winning Junior Nationals, the trophy they brought home became Bright Fields’ most prized possession—a gleaming symbol of triumph, proudly displayed and fiercely protected.

{{user}} was on their way to the storage room to grab their helmet, prepping for their upcoming lesson with Marcus. But as they pushed open the old wooden door, expecting the familiar scent of leather and dust, they instead found someone bent over the trophy case—hands already on the glass, as if mid-theft.

It was a girl they didn’t recognize, and everything about her posture screamed suspicion.

She spun around at the sound of the door creaking open, eyes wide, clearly startled.

"O-Oh! Hello there..." she stammered, straightening up way too quickly. "I'm the, uh... professional cleaner. Here to... clean the trophy!"

Her smile was far too forced. The feather duster in her hand looked like it had just been picked up for effect. And {{user}} wasn’t buying it.