novelraw Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Slam!
Inside the first-floor girls' restroom, a shove sent An Le's body hard against the wall. Alarms blared somewhere beyond the campus gates, yet the sound seemed unable to penetrate this sealed space, letting an unnamed darkness breed.
"Ah..."
A soft cry escaped her as pain bloomed across her back. She clutched her chest on instinct; the familiar weight of panic pressed down again, and this time there would be no fumbling with buttons to let herself breathe.
Fear twisted into a shrill ringing that swallowed the quiet restroom.
Buzz.
An Le couldn't heed the clamor in her ears or the storm in her chest; she could only lift her gaze toward Park Seo-mun. The older girl was holding the white envelope An Le had never managed to deliver.
Seo-mun skimmed the name on the front and sneered. "Oh, Xiao Huan? Who's that—your pet name for him?"
"Give it back."
An Le lunged, but Seo-mun stepped back, raising the letter out of reach.
"Hold her. Let's see what the cow wrote the President."
Two girls seized An Le's arms and pinned her to the wall again.
Buzz—the ringing grew more vicious.
"An Le, you naughty girl—using Hashimoto to pass notes? Were you eavesdropping on us?"
"Who knew our quiet little mouse could be such a closet freak?"
An Le struggled, but the pair were stronger. Through the black strands falling across her face, she watched Seo-mun tear open the envelope and unfold the letter.
"Mmm—let go... that's mine..."
Seo-mun ignored her. After only a few lines, she glanced up, incredulous, and laughed at her companions.
"Listen to this! She's hallucinating—claims the President used to care about her as kids, even lived at her house. I'm dying."
"Oho, childhood-sweetheart fanfic? Cute."
"So what was the cow back then? A calf?"
Seo-mun advanced, letter pinched between her fingers.
"If the President actually knew you, he'd have spoken to you at least once this semester. Pathetic, fantasizing like this—don't you feel ashamed?"
Until now An Le's resistance had been half-hearted; she simply lacked the strength. Yet when Seo-mun accused her of lying, she jerked her head up.
"I'm not! I just—just—"
She had recognized Yan Huan on the first day of school, yet why had she never approached him? They were in the same grade, the same hallway—was walking a few steps truly that difficult?
An Le knew the reason; she simply couldn't admit it to herself.
Seo-mun's smile chilled. She gripped An Le's chin.
"Just what? Don't think I don't know what's in that cow brain of yours. Disgusting. Sewer rat—your family can't even scrape together a decent outfit. You look like a ghost every day and still dare to like someone? If I were the President, I'd throw up."
To prove her point, Seo-mun roughly brushed aside An Le's bangs with the letter, exposing the face she always hid.
For a moment Seo-mun froze, her expression icing over. She let the hair fall again, crumpling the envelope in both hands.
"Love letters? I'll give you love letters. If I ever catch you writing to the President again, you'll regret it."
With a violent tug, she shredded the letter An Le had labored over all night.
Buzz.
An Le's eyes, still hidden beneath her fringe, dilated. Only then did the shrill ringing retreat.
A furious voice exploded in her mind.
"You useless thing!!"
It was the little serpent—Xiao Muzi.
"They bully you like this and you still freeze like a deer? I can't even reach you through the static!"
Across her skin, a phantom snake tattoo writhed in agitation, flashing its anger.
"Kill them all! Right now! Tear them apart!!"
But An Le only stared at the scraps drifting to the floor, as though what had shattered wasn't paper but her own heart.
From the cracks emerged the real reason she had avoided Yan Huan for six months.
She was simply... afraid.
Afraid of what?
After so many years, Xiao Huan had become wildly popular; his world must be crowded with countless new friends.
And she had stayed in place—awkward, timid, cowardly.
Still clinging to elementary-school memories in high school—wasn't that pathetic?
No sense of style, no confidence, obsessed with reptiles no one else liked, playing games she could never admit to.
If she approached the dazzling him and he looked puzzled—what then?
"Uh... classmate, who are you again? I can't quite recall."
That fear—that he had already forgotten her—froze her in place.
Better to pretend that the only reason they hadn't reunited was because she hadn't gone to him.
Yet hearts are fickle.
When Spencer had confidently declared that Yan Huan and Sakuramiya Hitomi were a couple, An Le had felt something break.
Though she hadn't deciphered Spencer's lip-reading, her imagination had supplied the worst: they had already slept together.
That pain had spurred her impulse to write the letter—passing it through Hashimoto to Xiao Huan.
Now Seo-mun's words hurled her back into cold self-loathing.
She stared at the shredded letter until her vision blurred. Only when heat slid down her cheeks did she realize—she was crying.
"Whoa, she's actually bawling?"
"Seriously? Can't take a little teasing?"
Inside her head, Xiao Muzi was on the verge of a meltdown.
It felt as though the girls weren't bullying An Le—they were bullying him.
"You absolute waste!! Stand up straight! Why are your knees shaking? Stop blubbering and fight back!!"
Xiao Muzi burned red-hot; it wanted to become a Gundam pilot and use the Modifier to crush these idiots.
But it couldn't. Only the host's will could activate the Modifier, and right now An Le was no pilot—just wreckage.
Flush.
Tension crackled through the restroom until, suddenly, the sound of a toilet flushing echoed from one of the stalls.
Seo-mun blinked, startled that anyone else was here.
The stall door opened, and a deadpan blonde girl stepped out.
Spencer.
For some reason, the sight of Spencer ignited an immediate loathing in Seo-mun—equal to what she felt for An Le.
Spencer swept her gaze across the scene, gaze lingering on the sobbing girl surrounded by classmates.
"...What are you looking at?" Seo-mun frowned.
Spencer said nothing, turned, and walked to the sinks.
Either intimidated by Park Seo-mun or simply unwilling to get involved, Spencer turned on the tap and lathered her hands.
The water gurgled. Seo-mun, face cold, dragged her eyes away and refocused on An Le's silent tears.
She opened her mouth to speak—only for the hand-dryer behind her to roar to life.
"Whoooom!"
Seo-mun's frown deepened. She decided to wait until Spencer left.
But Spencer's voice drifted over her shoulder, casual and razor-sharp.
"Dead witch, were you talking to me just now?"
Seo-mun spun around, stunned. Spencer had closed the distance without a sound; now she towered, smiling, fang glinting, black wrath coiling around her like smoke.
"You—" Seo-mun's bravado cracked; her voice shrank. Still, she forced out, "Stay out of our business. This is between us."
"Oh?" Spencer nodded, clearly not listening. Arms folded, she drawled, "Heard everything you said. Honestly? You lot should piss on the floor and take a good look. She's not fit to write to whoever Yan Huan is, and neither are you. Ugly as sin and bark like dogs—if you were chained outside my gate I'd still complain. So zip it, okay?"
An Le's quiet sobs hiccupped; the two girls beside her looked like they'd been caught in collateral damage.
Seo-mun tried to fire back, but one glance at Spencer—golden hair gleaming even under fluorescent lights, face so handsome it looked airbrushed—killed the insult in her throat.
Damn it. Looks—lost.
Money, then—Seo-mun's gaze flicked to the luxury pendant and custom sportswear. She didn't even recognize the brand without the logo.
"Your mo—"
Fury blinding her, Seo-mun swung at Spencer's face.
Too slow. Spencer caught the wrist mid-air, grip tightening like a bear trap.
"Wanna fight? Perfect. I love a good brawl."
Pain shot up Seo-mun's arm. The next instant Spencer's right hand rose—the shadow of a palm eclipsed Seo-mun's pale face.
"Wait—wait a sec—"
"Whoosh!"
The slap landed like a thunderclap. Seo-mun's cheek folded; she spun twice on her heels and crumpled face-first to the tiles, out cold.
"S-Seo-mun... you okay?"
No answer. She slept like a baby on the bathroom floor.
An Le's tears froze. Spencer looked like an urban legend that could stop children crying at night.
The two girls flanking An Le went limp; one almost buckled.
They had never seen a single slap send someone into a double pirouette.
Spencer flexed her hand, surprised, then grinned wider. Her gaze swept over the remaining pair.
"Hold on, we didn't—"
Spencer didn't listen. A kick to the gut dropped one girl, clutching her stomach and wailing. The other tried to bolt but was yanked back by her hair and slammed to the ground. Neither dared stand.
Spencer dusted her hands. She glanced at An Le, shook her head, and turned to leave.
Her power had spiked again—ever since she'd threatened the student-council president. No clue how it worked, but it felt good.
"Um—"
Spencer paused at the door. Behind her, An Le's tiny voice squeaked out.
"Th-thank you for helping me."
Spencer blinked. "Not really. If that dead witch hadn't run her mouth, I wouldn't have bothered."
"But... when you came out, you kept looking at me, so I thought—"
"Ugh, you're annoying." Spencer rolled her eyes, golden hair whipping like a lion's tail.
An Le's head drooped; words failed her.
Spencer sighed, suddenly tongue-tied herself.
Silence.
Eventually An Le ventured, "If they come after you, I'll testify for you, Spencer."
"Relax. They wouldn't dare." Spencer waved it off, then added, "Worry about yourself. Luck won't always hand you me on a silver platter."
After all, people with nothing were the most pitiful.
An Le bit her lip and nodded.
As Spencer headed back to class, An Le fell in step beside her. Yesterday the whole class had ignored Spencer; An Le knew what that felt like. And though Spencer looked fierce, she was... actually kind.
Sirens wailed across campus. Both girls glanced toward the commotion but saw nothing.
An Le's eyes, however, snagged on a boy beside the police cars—just a glimpse made her flinch.
Xiao Huan...
Remembering Spencer's mention of him yesterday and her words in the bathroom, An Le stole a nervous look.
"Um... Spencer, you seem really interested in President Yan. Do you... like him?"
Spencer rubbed her chin, then shook her head. "Nah, not really."
She just enjoyed the thrill of snatching him from others.
As for An Le—people with nothing were the most pitiful.
"I see." An Le exhaled, relieved.
She gathered her courage and walked a little closer.
That single thought made An Le want to befriend her.
"Um, Spencer, whatever happens... thank you for what happened earlier. I—I never introduced myself properly. I'm An Le."
"Yeah, yeah. I already knew that when those jerks were yelling at you."
Spencer yawned, waving her off.
At that moment her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and her eyes flew open. Unlocking it, she scrolled frantically.
It was an e-mail—from the student-council:
"Notice Regarding the Mandatory Placement of Aria Spencer in a Study Group."
Paragraph after paragraph followed, explaining the reason and what was expected of her. Spencer flipped up and down the wall of text, but the only two words her brain latched onto were:
HOUSE ARREST!
She sucked in a breath, half laughing, half furious, and kept scrolling.
At the very bottom she read:
"In conclusion, Aria Spencer is required to report to the Student-Council Office before the end of the day this Friday. Any late arrival or absence will be recorded and forwarded to the Principal's Office. All resulting consequences—including parental notification—shall be borne by Aria Spencer. Please be advised."
President, Yuanyue Academy Student Council: Yan Huan
An Le had peeked at the message too. Before she could say anything, Spencer's knuckles whitened around the phone.
"You asked if I liked Yan Huan? Well I don't just 'not like' him anymore—I'm starting to hate the guy."
"Huh?"
An Le blinked, feeling a tiny spark of pleasure before immediately scolding herself for it.
She waved her hands and gave Spencer an apologetic smile.
"Xiao Huan's only doing his job. It's the school's fault, really. As student-council president he doesn't have much choice—"
Spencer's face had been set to explode, but one look at An Le—head bowed like a small animal with nothing to her name—drained all the fight out of her.
With a soft snort Spencer turned toward the classroom, muttering,
"Simp and die, got it?"