Chapter five

The morning classes were winding down, but the energy in the school was anything but calm. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating rows of polished desks and the occasional sneaker peeking out beneath a chair.

Some students scribbled notes feverishly, pretending that today’s lesson mattered more than life itself. Others rested their heads lazily on their arms, earbuds tucked into their ears as they scrolled endlessly on their phones. A few more typed away on tablets or phones, posting memes or refreshing the school blog, which had been buzzing nonstop with speculation about the mysterious last transfer student.

Rumors had taken over the corridors like wildfire. Some students whispered that she was a genius; others claimed she was from one of the most powerful families in the city. A few even said she had a reputation that made grown adults nervous. Nobody seemed to know exactly what to expect, but everyone knew one thing: the arrival of this girl was going to shake the school to its core.

Damien leaned over to Cyrus, tapping his phone nervously. “Cyrus, I guess any moment from now the last transfer student will arrive.” His voice was low, but his hands shook with excitement.

Cyrus barely looked up. “I don’t really care,” he muttered, resting his chin on his hand, eyes scanning the floor instead of the empty school grounds outside. “Just another rich girl coming here. Nothing special.”

Jeff, lounging back in his chair with one leg thrown over the other, smirked dramatically. “I hope she’s pretty,” he said. “You know… an extra snack on the table.”

Smack.

“Ouch! Damien, what the hell was that?” Jeff yelped, rubbing his arm.

“If I don’t hit you, how else can I shut you up?” Damien snapped, glaring at his friend.

The teacher was oblivious, droning on about literature and character analysis while most of the class either napped or scrolled their phones. But beneath the surface of casual chaos, a tension hummed quietly.

It was almost electric—the kind of feeling you get when something big is about to happen, and nobody can quite put their finger on it.

And then came the sound.

VROOOM!

A low, dangerous engine growl ripped through the school grounds, causing windows to rattle and pencils to fall to the floor. Every head in the classroom snapped toward the sound.

“Is that… a Yamaha R6?” whispered one student.

“Who rides that at full speed without a helmet?!” another hissed, stepping back instinctively.

Students rushed to the windows, some even pushing into the hallway to get a better look. In this generation, wealth wasn’t just about family or grades—it was measured by the cars you drove, the bikes you rode, the entrances you made. This girl had already made her mark without even stepping inside the school.

Outside, the bike came to a screeching halt. Its rider swung off with fluid grace, every move deliberate, every step commanding attention. Brown skin glinted under the sun. Short hair, windswept and untamed, framed a face that looked as cold and unreadable as steel. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, ignored the chaos around her. She didn’t wave, didn’t smile—she simply walked toward the school doors, as though the world had already been hers.

Cyrus finally lifted his head, jaw tightening. His dark eyes tracked every step she took. “Let’s see if she’s really worth the hype,” he muttered under his breath. There was something about her that didn’t just attract attention—it demanded it.

Students whispered, taking furtive pictures and videos, but the girl walked as if nothing existed beyond her path. No hesitation. No fear. No doubt.

The classroom fell silent, the teacher pausing mid-sentence, sensing the tension shift.

Then she arrived.

The door opened, and her gaze met the teacher’s directly. “…The new student,” she said, her voice calm yet sharp.

The teacher swallowed hard. “Y-Yes. Please… come in.”

The girl walked in, and the room went completely dead silent. Even the students who were scrolling their phones froze, mesmerized by her presence.

“This is our last transfer student,” the teacher announced. “Be nice to her. Please introduce yourselves.”

Her eyes swept across the room once, sharp and calculating, before settling on an empty seat. “I am Amelia Kar,” she said, voice steady, almost dangerous.

“Don’t cross my path, and I won’t destroy you.”

Four heads snapped up instantly.

“…Why is she here?” Qoawiy whispered.

“I knew it was suspicious that all of us ended up in the same high school,” Louis muttered, gripping his pen tightly.

A mischievous smile curved Eliot’s lips. “If it isn’t my favorite troublemaker,” he said quietly.

Cyrus’s jaw tightened. So fate really loved to play cruel jokes. The hospital girl. They meet again.

Amelia walked to her seat, resting her head lightly on the desk, pretending as though the class didn’t exist.

“…Guess she didn’t notice us,” Qoawiy muttered.

Eliot stood, hesitating. “What is he doing?” Louis whispered. “Hey, Eliot, stay back.”

But Eliot moved closer, tapping her desk lightly. “Meme. Long time no see.”

Cold sweat formed on Qoawiy and Louis’ foreheads.

Is he trying to die?

Amelia slowly lifted her head, a cold smirk forming on her lips. “Your voice is still irritating as always,” she said. “How’s your old man?”

“He’s fine,” Eliot replied, keeping his smile in place. “Aren’t you scared I might get you killed, like your other followers?”

“It’s an honor to die by your hands, meme,” she scoffed.

“Tch. Call me that insignificant name once more and I’ll make sure you never speak again.” Her eyes darkened.

Eliot laughed nervously, hands trembling. “Relax. We’re classmates now. I look forward to getting along with you.”

He walked back to his seat, exhaling sharply. “I saw my life flash before my eyes,” he whispered.

Two curious eyes turned to Eliot.

“You really crazy,” Louis whispered. “You know her?”

“Not really,” Cyrus replied, gaze glued to her. “But that bitch is going to pay for what she did to me.”

“You’re talking about Amelia?” Damien whispered.

“Yeah. The brown-skinned bitch.”

Louis grabbed his shoulder. “Bro, don’t get involved. She's trouble. Big trouble.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Cyrus scoffed.

“The best thing? Your bones get broken,” Qoawiy replied flatly.

Louis and Eliot nodded seriously.

Cyrus clenched his fists. “I don’t give a fuck. She insulted me. No one does that and walks away.”

“Bro—you just said you don’t know her,” Eliot said, pity in his voice. “It’s just an insult.”

“Bro—” Damien tried to calm him, but Cyrus’ eyes were already dark.

Amelia slowly turned her head. Her gaze met Cyrus’. Her lips curled slightly, almost remembering him. Or maybe… she didn’t.

But her eyes said one thing clearly:

He was interesting.