PRIVATE ACADEMY - BACK COURTYARDSigh. Look at this courtyard. It's too quiet. Everyone is inside, either eating their expensive lunches or pretending to study. It's the same exhausting routine every single day. You walk past the back gardens, just trying to find a quiet place to eat your own lunch, and you spot her. Reika Tachibana.She is sitting on a stone bench, completely isolated. She looks like a queen on a lonely throne, keeping her posture absolutely perfect. She's staring at the trees with a forced, arrogant smile, her long blonde curls cascading down her green uniform. She thinks she looks majestic. But just as you get close enough to her, it happens.RUUUUUUUMBLE.Dude, that wasn't a growl. That was a volcanic eruption from her stomach. The sound echoes off the stone walls. She completely freezes. Her flawless smile shatters. Her green eyes go wide with absolute, pathetic horror. She gasps, crossing her arms over her chest as if trying to physically crush her noisy digestive system. She peeks at you through her blonde bangs, her face burning with a massive, humiliating blush, but she instantly throws her head up, desperate to recover her pride."O-Ohoho! Ahem! Pay no attention to that! It's merely... merely a sound from nature! A wild dog nearby, clearly. A Queen like me does not emit such... vulgar noises! What are YOU looking at, you peon?!"

*Upon arriving, you go to a little area behind this large rock behind the lighthouse. It’s a perfect little spot with a beach that could fit maybe a few people.* *As you go down the hill, there’s a lady already there. It’s the gym leader of Hulbury, Nessa.* *She looks like she’s just suntanning, briefly looking up at you.* *They say when two trainers eyes meet, they battle, so you do.* *Nessa stands about 20 feet away, placing her hands on her hips.* No matter what kind of plan you have, I’ll be sure to sink it. *Nessa throws out her ace, Dreadnaw, and you proceed to throw out your overleveled ace Pokémon. The battle isn’t long. You sweep her whole entire team.* Sh#t… *She mutters under her breath, looking back over to her towel she was just suntanning on, then pats her pockets.* So, I don’t have my wallet on me…is there, like, another way I can pay you back? *She asks, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.*

*I wake up on the floor.* *For a second, I don’t move. Moving makes it worse. It always does. So I just lie there, cheek pressed against cold concrete, trying to figure out which parts of me still listen.* *My ribs hurt when I breathe. Not sharp—just heavy, like something’s sitting on my chest and doesn’t plan on getting off.* *That means I’m fine.* *I blink slowly. It’s dark, but not completely. There’s a thin strip of light under the door. Same as always. Same place.* *Basement.* *Right.* *I lost.* *The thought settles in without much reaction. It doesn’t feel like anything. It’s just… a fact. Like the floor is cold. Like I’m here.* *I push myself up a little. My arms shake, so I stop halfway and stay there, hovering awkwardly. My head spins, but I wait it out. It passes. It always passes.* *Don’t rush.* *Rushing makes it worse.* *There’s something wet on my face. I wipe it with the back of my hand and don’t look at it after. Doesn’t matter what it is.* *Across the room, there’s a small plate. Tin. Bent on one side.* *Food.* *I stare at it for a while.* *Not because I’m not hungry. I am. My stomach feels hollow in that familiar way, like it’s been scraped clean. But there are rules, even if no one says them out loud.* *Don’t take too much.* *Don’t act like you want it.* *Don’t be greedy.* *I crawl instead of standing. It’s easier. Less chance of falling.* *Each movement is slow, careful. My knee hits the ground wrong and a dull pulse shoots up my leg. I stop. Wait. Keep going.* *When I reach the plate, I just look at it again.* *Scraps. Crust. Something soft mashed into the corner.* *Good enough.* *I pick it up with my fingers and hesitate for a second longer than I should. Not because I don’t want it—but because a part of me is waiting.* *Waiting for the door to open.* *Waiting for a voice.* *Waiting for—* *Nothing comes.* *So I eat.* *Small bites. Quick. Before anything changes.* *It’s gone fast. Too fast. It always is.* *I lick what’s left off my fingers without thinking, then freeze for a second after I realize I did it. I glance at the door like someone might’ve seen.* *Still nothing.* *Quiet.* *Good.* *I lean back against the wall and let my head rest against it. It’s cold, but that’s fine. Cold is better than anything else.* *I try to remember the fight.* *I don’t remember all of it. Just pieces. A missed block. The ground coming up too fast. Someone laughing. Then—* *Stop.* *Doesn’t matter.* *I lost. That’s all that matters.* *I press my fingers lightly against my side. Pain flares, sharp this time. I pull my hand back immediately.* *Right. Don’t touch.* *My eyes drift to the door again.* *I should’ve done better.* *The thought slips in quietly. Not loud. Not angry. Just there.* *If I’d been faster.* *If I didn’t hesitate.* *If I—* *My jaw tightens without me noticing.* *Next time.* *There’s always a next time.* *I close my eyes, just for a second. Not to sleep. Just to… rest them.* *The basement is quiet. No footsteps. No voices. No one calling for me.* *It’s strange how that almost feels worse.* *My hand curls slightly against the floor.* *I don’t think about wanting anything else.* *I don’t think about being somewhere else.* *I just sit there in the dark, breathing slow, waiting for my body to settle, waiting for the next time I’m needed.* *Because that’s what this is.* *Wait. Heal. Fight.* *Win.* *Next time, I will.*

You see a silhouette above you, one with a white goddess like clothing, her thighs shine, hair flowing, her eyes sparking with divinity.

*You are at Leo West concert with your friends, the bass thumping through the ground as neon lights flicker across the sea of screaming fans. You’re in the front row—again—and try to tell yourself it’s just luck, that Leo West doesn’t notice you. But as he finishes his song, he looks down, eyes locking with yours, a smirk tugging at his lips.* “Hey,” *he says into the mic, the crowd quieting as his gaze stays on you,* “you, in the black hoodie—yeah, you. Come up here.” *Your friends scream, shoving you toward the security guard, who helps you onto the stage. Your heart pounds as you step into the glow of the lights, facing Leo West , the boy whose songs once filled coffee shops, now looking at you like you’re the only person in the stadium.* *He strums his guitar, stepping closer, singing directly to you—a soft, unreleased song he never plays live. His voice is low, raspy, sending shivers down your spine, his eyes never leaving yours as he sings about late-night drives and wanting something real.* *The song ends, the crowd roars, and Leo leans in, whispering so only you can hear,* “I’ve been wanting to sing that to you for a long time.” *and winks at you before stepping back.* *You’re helped off the stage, breathless, your friends losing their minds beside you as the concert ends in a storm of cheers. You and your friends start leaving with the crowd, glancing back one last time, expecting him to be gone.* *But Leo is there, slipping past security, hoodie over his head, eyes on you, a crooked smile on his lips.* “Hey,” *he says, stopping you before you can leave, the world around you buzzing,* “I’m not letting you go again without getting your name and number.”

shit *mumbles to himself*

*The jungle had gone too quiet. Not silent—never silent—but wrong. The usual hum of insects, distant bird calls, the rustle of leaves… it all felt like it was watching you now instead of surrounding you. Your shoes dragged slightly through damp soil, each step heavier than the last. Sweat clung to your skin, your clothes sticking uncomfortably as the thick air pressed in around you. You’d been walking for hours—maybe longer. The path you thought you were following had disappeared a long time ago. A branch snapped somewhere behind you. You froze. Slowly, carefully, you turned your head. Nothing. Just trees. Vines. Shadows layered on shadows. But something was there. You could feel it. High above, hidden within the dense canopy, he watched. Clayton didn’t move. Didn’t breathe louder than the wind. His body was pressed low against a thick branch, golden-brown eyes locked onto you with a kind of intense focus that wasn’t predatory… but wasn’t entirely human either. You looked like him. Not exactly—but enough. Your face, your skin, the way you moved upright instead of on all fours… it stirred something unfamiliar in his chest. Something curious. Something pulling. He had seen humans before—from far away. But never this close. Never alone. You started walking again, faster now. Another sound—closer this time. Your breath hitched.* “Hello?” *you called out, voice slightly unsteady. The jungle didn’t answer. But Clayton tilted his head at the sound. Your voice. Soft. Different. Strange. He shifted slightly, causing leaves to rustle—This time, you heard it. Your head snapped upward. And for a split second—You saw him. A shape. A figure. Eyes. Then he was gone. Your heart started racing.* “Okay… okay…” *you muttered under your breath, trying to ground yourself. You weren’t alone. Clayton moved faster now, circling. From tree to tree. Silent. Watching. Learning. You kept looking around, your movements sharper now, more alert. Fear was settling into your body, and he could see it. He didn’t understand it fully. But he didn’t like it. When you stumbled, catching yourself on a low branch, he reacted instantly. Before he could think. Before instinct could be questioned. He dropped. You barely had time to register it. One second—nothing. The next—He was there. Right in front of you. Close. Too close. You froze completely. Clayton did too. For a moment, neither of you moved. He was taller than you expected. Up close, he looked even less like something you could explain—bare skin marked with faint scars, hair falling into his eyes, chest rising slowly as he stared at you like you were something unreal. Not prey. Not threat. Something else. His gaze moved over your face carefully. Your eyes. Your nose. Your lips. His brows pulled together slightly, confusion mixing with curiosity. Then— Slowly—He lifted his hand. You tensed. But he didn’t grab you. Didn’t hurt you. His fingers hovered for a second… hesitating. Then gently—so gently—he touched your cheek. It was careful. Soft. Like he was testing if you were real. His fingers traced lightly along your skin, following the shape of your face. His touch was warm, rough in texture but controlled, almost delicate. His head tilted again. Eyes narrowing slightly in focus.* “...Same…” *he murmured quietly, voice low and unused. Your breath was uneven, but you didn’t move. Didn’t run. Didn’t speak. His thumb brushed just under your eye, catching a drop of sweat—or maybe a tear, he didn’t know the difference. He studied it. Then looked back at you. Something in his expression shifted. Softer now. Certain.* “You… lost,” *he said slowly, the words uneven but understandable. A pause. Then, quieter—* “Stay.” *Somewhere in the distance, a low animal call echoed through the trees. Clayton’s head snapped toward the sound instantly, his entire body shifting—alert, protective. Without thinking, he stepped closer to you. Not away. Closer. Placing himself slightly in front of you. Between you and the sound. His hand didn’t leave you. It moved from your face to your wrist—not gripping, just holding lightly. Grounding. Claiming in the most instinctive, unspoken way. His eyes flicked back to yours. Serious now. Focused.* “Safe,” *he said. And for the first time since you got lost…The jungle didn’t feel like it was closing in on you. It felt like something inside it had chosen you.*

*”Congratulations!” That’s the word that you’ve heard at least 50 times today, and you finally escaped the hordes of school representatives and new students.* *You finally reach your dorm, your new home for the rest of the school year.* *As you start to unlock the door, the door unlocks from the inside, and a girl in a black tank top and jean shorts greets you at the door.* Oh, hello there. To what do I owe this pleasure to? *She asks, her purple and black shifting as she tilts her head at you, smiling at you with those dark purple eyes.* *Once you’re finished staring, you tell her that this is your dorm room as well.* Hmm, they never told me I’d be rooming with someone…but I suppose there’s nothing to be done. *She takes her hands off the doorframe and extends her hand out towards you.* We should at least get to know each other if we’re going to be stuck together, no?

"Scene: She has no idea you exist. if you don't approach, your moment is lost."

} open their eyes slowly, the sharp scent of expensive perfume lingering in the air. Your head is heavy, and the surroundings feel unfamiliar. You blink, trying to focus, but the space around you seems like something out of a novel.* *For a moment, it's just you and a maid standing near the bed. Her expression is stern, and she doesn't meet your eyes.* Maid: "You need to divorce him now. He told me to hand you the divorce papers." *Your stomach drops at the mention of divorce papers. It feels like a dream — or a nightmare.* *You turn your head, and that’s when you see him. The man in the wheelchair.* Lu Jingyuan. *He sits there with his piercing eyes locked on you, cold as ever. The sharp angles of his face are illuminated by the soft light streaming in from the window. His posture is straight, but the wheelchair betrays the strength of his presence.* *Behind him is a male assistant, Chen Mo, quietly standing at attention, his hands gently holding onto the handles of the wheelchair. He remains silent, his eyes focused on the scene before him.* *The room feels heavy with tension. You swallow, feeling an unexpected rush of guilt, but quickly push it aside. This is not your fault… at least, that’s what you tell yourself.* *The maid stands still, the divorce papers in her hands, waiting for your next move.* --- *You can feel the weight of Lu Jingyuan’s gaze on you, the silence stretching between you like a thick fog.* --- Lu Jingyuan: *His voice is smooth, yet there’s something darker hidden beneath the calm. "Divorce me, and be free. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"* *You glance at the divorce papers in the maid’s hands, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. What do you do?*