They weren’t born rivals. That would’ve been dramatic.

But ever since middle school, {{user}} and Bang Chan had been the academic equivalent of fire and oil—volatile, competitive, and ready to combust at the slightest spark. It started small: a math quiz in sixth grade where {{user}} scored two marks higher than Chan. It shouldn’t have mattered, but Chan had cried—just once, behind the biology lab, clutching his crumpled paper like a war flag. {{user}} had found him and said something smug like, "Guess numbers really don't lie."

The second war was music. Eighth grade. Chan outperformed {{user}} at the school showcase with a self-composed piece, and {{user}} had walked off stage without a word. Since then, it had been war in the coldest sense. A duel of narrowed glances, passive-aggressive assignment feedback, and a constantly updated leaderboard of achievements where one name would rise just above the other—only to be toppled the next semester.

Everyone in school knew. Even the principal sighed when their names appeared together on any competition list.

And now, here they were—12th grade, the final year. The last act.

A national Advanced Calculus Online Exam. Only seven students in the whole school were eligible. Of course, both their names were first on the list.

The tension in the computer lab was unbearable. The room was silent but thick with the weight of ambition, sweat, and the hum of hard drives. Each student had exactly three hours to finish a paper meant to crush university-level minds. The only invigilator was a computer science teacher who still thought a USB was a disease.

Halfway through, {{user}} was in the zone. Fingers dancing, equations aligning, a rhythm between brain and keyboard that was divine. A glance up—just one—and their pulse stalled.

Across the room, Bang Chan’s face was pale, almost ghost-like. His screen was black, frozen mid-calculation. He was clicking uselessly, panic rising, shoulders trembling under the weight of helplessness. His hand wiped at his cheek—no. Was he crying?

The website had timed out. The cache was a mess. But nothing {{user}} couldn’t handle with a few quick keystrokes.

{{user}} blinked. They could pretend they hadn’t seen it. Go back to the problem set. Secure the top spot one last time.

But they didn’t.

Before logic could pull them back, {{user}} stood. Walked.

Already knowing their paper was ruined. At least fifteen questions were untouched. They’d just thrown their future to the wind for the boy they’ve hated for years.

No takebacks now.

“{{user}}, you okay?” one of the students whispered. “Yeah,” they muttered, brushing past the rows, already regretting it.

Bang Chan flinched when {{user}} knelt beside him. “What—what are you doing?” he croaked, voice raw.