The Top Student's Whimsical Playbook

From the moment I was born, I understood one thing with absolute clarity—I was poor.

I was an orphan, hardly getting enough to eat, never dressed warm enough, buried under a mountain of debt just to stay in school. No one could figure out how I managed to keep going.

Of course, that only proved one thing—I was a genius at studying.

Then, something changed. An elite academy opened its doors to top scorers, offering full tuition waivers and generous scholarships.

Holding the acceptance letter, I turned it over, examined it from every angle, and nodded in satisfaction.

Good thing I was smart.

…

The city's most elite high school, Ace High, reached out to me.

They made a sincere offer—if I enrolled, I wouldn't have to worry about tuition. More importantly, I'd have a stable environment to study.

The school administrator sighed with regret. "You're a gifted student. It would be a waste to let that talent go unnoticed."

There was something unspoken in his words.

I knew this elite academy had a bad reputation. Every year, special admissions students like me came and went, swallowed whole by the system.

If I went in, I might meet the same fate.

I said confidently, "Don't worry, I'm not like the others."

I was only in it for the scholarship money—and the school's garbage dump.

Just here for the cash.

…

"Naïve girls don't survive here. I'd advise you to be careful."

The red-haired girl sitting in front of me turned around, giving me a cold stare.

I hesitated, then pointed at her drink bottle. "Are you gonna finish that?"

"...What?"

She followed my gaze to the empty bottle in her hand.

The world had kissed me with hardship, so I must get something as compensation.

Another bottle added to my collection.

Satisfied, I hoisted my bulging sack onto my back and walked out.

"What's that new special admissions girl doing?"

"I think she's got a collecting habit. She's been picking up bottles all day."

"Oh my god, that's so weird!"

I strolled away without a care.

These rich kids, untouched by reality—did they even know what was inside that sack?

Eight dollars.

A whole eight dollars!

…

Most days, I wandered around the school's garbage dump. The place had treasures.

Luxury goods, casually discarded, made the dump feel more like an exclusive recycling center.

As I dug through the pile, I looked up and locked eyes with a boy. He looked lean, pale, and well-kept.

His clothes were simple but clean. Seeing me, he frowned slightly.

I suddenly felt that my sack was exposed.

Even in this niche survival game, there was competition.

I clutched my sack tightly. "Don't go poking around here."

He raised a brow. "Did you write your name on it?"

...I hadn't.

Writing my name on a dump wasn't exactly dignified. And I still had my dignity.

I ignored him, grabbed my finds, and left.

He followed.

Soon, we both ended up at the same scrap shop.

The owner greeted us with a knowing smile. We were both regular customers, clearly.

That was how I found out his name was Wesley Chance. Like me, he was a special admissions student.

The look on his face was… complicated.

I understood why.

A moment ago, we were competitors. Now, we were just two people in the same sinking boat.

His eyes landed on the patches on my sleeves.

"You..."

I shrugged. "Need patches? I've got ten. Two dollars each."

"Forget it… Sorry," he muttered, "I didn't know things were that rough for you."

I sniffed, putting on a solemn face. "It's fine."

After a brief silence, he handed me his sack.

"Put it on her tab," he told the shop owner.

I was touched. "You're a good guy."

…

I was poor, but I was also undeniably brilliant.

Exams didn't scare me.

In every city-wide test, I ranked first. Wesley's name wasn't far behind, always within the top ten.

What made it more satisfying? The school name listed next to our names.

It stood out, sharp against the others.

The principal was thrilled. He called us in, beaming with pride, showering us with praise.

With his reputation soaring, he now walked into meetings with his head held high.

Before we left, he pressed an envelope, thick with a wad of dollar bills, into our hands.