Chelsea drummed her fingers against the cool surface of her desk, eyes flickering toward the clock mounted on the classroom wall. The relentless ticking of the second hand was maddening, drowning out the lesson on tectonic plates that faded into mere background noise. Just moments prior, Vice Principal Monroe had called for Violet, and an insatiable curiosity gnawed at Chelsea, like an itch she couldn't quite reach.
At last, Chelsea could no longer hold back. She lifted her hand, trying to hide her eagerness with a feigned look of innocence as she tilted her head. "Excuse me, Miss, can I go to the restroom?"
Her Geography teacher barely looked up, waving her off with a distracted nod. "Go on, but be quick."
Holding back a grin, Chelsea picked up her bag and stepped into the deserted hallway, the hum of distant chatter fading as she focused on her new objective. She had no intention of heading to the restroom, of course. Instead, her true aim was to discover why Violet had been called to Monroe's office—and if luck was on her side, she might just run into Violet before she got there.
Her footsteps echoed softly as she rounded the corner leading toward the administration block. Just as she neared, she caught a glimpse of something—or rather, someone—that made her pause mid-step.
Violet. And Ivy.
Chelsea's breath hitched as she pressed herself against the wall, peering carefully around the corner. Ivy stood slouched in Violet's arms, her expression blank but her body tense, as if she were barely holding herself together. However, it was the man standing next to them that truly captured Chelsea's focus.
Ivy's uncle.
Before Chelsea could fully process the sight, everything happened in an instant. The man's hand shot out, gripping Ivy's shaggy hair and yanking her out of Violet's hold with cruel force. A strangled noise of pain escaped Ivy's lips, her body recoiling as he dragged her away.
Violet stumbled forward, eyes burning with barely restrained anger. "Let go of her!"
Her voice cut through the air, laced with an intensity that caught Chelsea off guard. Just as Violet was about to step in, before she could take any action, Vice Principal Monroe's voice echoed from the office entrance.
"Violet, I need you inside. Now."
Violet froze. Her hesitation lasted only a second, but that was all Ivy's uncle needed to haul Ivy further down the corridor. Chelsea watched as Violet's hands clenched into fists, her entire body trembling with frustration and helplessness, before she turned sharply and disappeared into the Vice Principal's office.
Chelsea remained rooted in place, processing what she had just witnessed. Her lips curled slightly, a dark mix of amusement and irritation bubbling inside her. It dawned on her that the bond between Violet and Ivy ran deeper than she had initially thought—something more significant than mere casual concern.
Her fingers twitched with anticipation.
This was a problem. A problem she needed to fix.
⋯
Violet sat stiffly across from Vice Principal Monroe, arms folded tightly across her chest. The air in the office felt suffocating, thick with unspoken tension. Monroe's gaze was wary, as if she knew what was coming.
"What the hell was that?!" Violet's voice was controlled, but only just. "You saw what happened out there! You saw him drag Ivy away, and you didn't do anything!"
Monroe let out a slow breath, avoiding Violet's piercing glare. "Violet, I understand why you're upset—"
"No, you don't," Violet interrupted, her voice rising. "You don't understand at all."
Monroe recoiled for a moment but quickly regained her composure. "This situation is... quite complicated."
Violet scoffed, shaking her head. "Complicated? Seriously? What's so complicated about stopping an abusive guardian from assaulting his niece in the middle of a school hallway!?"
Monroe hesitated before answering, her fingers pressing together. "Because of the rise in Semi-Immortal children, CPS and the police have been overwhelmed. They rarely take on cases involving Semi-Immortals anymore. And even when they do… many of them have personal biases. They're often linked to the Crossed Clan, either directly or through shared ideology."
Violet's stomach churned. "So you're saying no one is going to help Ivy? That because she's a Semi-Immortal, she's just supposed to deal with it?"
Monroe sighed. "It's not that simple, Violet."
"No," Violet said sharply. "It is that simple. What about before she was a Semi-Immortal? You knew what was happening to her back then, didn't you?"
A brief flash of something—was it regret?—appeared on Monroe's face. "We've made mistakes."
Violet's nails dug into her palms. "Mistakes..."
Monroe went on, her tone subdued. "Ivy attempted to report the abuse when she first joined Whitewater, but no one took her seriously. After about six months of effort, she gave up on speaking out."
Violet clenched her jaw. "And when CPS was finally called?"
Monroe hesitated again. "Her uncle manipulated the investigators. And Ivy… she lied. She told them her injuries came from school because of the bullying."
Violet's breath hitched. "Oh, right... She was bullied here too..."
Monroe nodded, feeling a sense of shame. "We let her down in those situations too."
Violet shook her head, a harsh laugh slipping out. "So what did you do? Just stand by and let it happen because that was the easier option?"
Monroe's face clouded with frustration. "Do you have any idea how many students here are from influential families? Every instance of bullying just escalates into a war between parents, with everyone pointing fingers and dodging responsibility. The school... we attempted to step in, but it wasn't good enough..."
Violet felt physically sick. The ignorance. The negligence.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. "And now? Who's supposed to help her?"
Monroe leaned back in her chair, exhaustion in her eyes. "The Whitehorse Agency is in charge of her case now."
Violet already knew where this was going. "And Ivy refuses their help."
Monroe gave a slow nod. "Every single time we try to report her situation, she rejects it."
Violet lowered her gaze, jaw tight. She already knew why. She knew the terms for getting the Agency's help.
Monroe slid a box of tissues across the desk, her voice softer now. "Ivy can request their support anytime. But it has to be her decision."
Violet exhaled sharply, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She didn't take a tissue. She didn't need one. What she needed was a solution.
Because waiting for Ivy to ask for help...
That wasn't going to happen.
A silence settled between them, neither particularly inclined to break it. The Vice Principal tapped her fingers lightly against the desk, watching Violet with measured curiosity. Then, with a slight shrug and an easy smile, she finally spoke.
"Well, I suppose I got the answer to what I was curious about..."
Violet blinked. "What?"
Monroe gestured vaguely, her expression calm but clearly expectant. "Ivianna requested you personally. Considering she's not exactly known for being... friendly, I was curious as to why."
Violet hesitated, piecing together an answer that would make sense but also wouldn't throw Ivy under the bus. "We're… new friends," she said carefully. "Since we're both Semi-Immortal, it makes it easier to trust each other. People who aren't like us either hate us or think we're some other species that shouldn't exist. Ivy and I—" she exhaled softly, "—we don't have that problem with each other."
Monroe's lips pressed into a thin line. She nodded, though there was an air of discomfort in the way her shoulders stiffened. Pity flickered across her face, but there was something else, too—a quiet wariness.
Despite Whitewater Charter School's reputation as a 'safe' place for Semi-Immortals, Violet wasn't oblivious to the truth. Schools like this were rare, and even within their walls, unease followed people like her and Ivy. Semi-Immortals weren't supposed to exist, and most of society made sure they knew it.
Monroe cleared her throat, steering the conversation elsewhere. "And how has your first day been?" she asked, her tone shifting to something lighter. "I understand you haven't attended school for a few years, so I want to make sure you're settling in alright."
Violet forced a small smile. "It's… overwhelming." She let out a nervous chuckle. "Even though I'm in lower set classes, I feel like I can barely follow along."
Monroe hummed in understanding, reaching into a desk drawer and pulling out a file. As she flipped through it, she spoke. "We do have a handful of student tutors available if you'd like some additional support after school."
Violet perked up slightly. "That would actually help a lot."
Monroe scanned the list of names, her eyes flicking down the page. After a moment, she nodded. "Arleigh Houghton is available on Tuesdays. Would that work for you?"
Violet considered for a second before nodding. "Yeah, that's fine."
A small smile graced the Vice Principal's lips as she made adjustments to the file. "Arleigh is an excellent tutor. She's part of the student council and is well-respected among both students and faculty. I'll inform her, and in the meantime, here's the information on where she typically holds tutoring sessions." She slid a small note across the desk.
Violet picked it up, scanning the details before tucking it into her pocket. "Thank you."
Monroe smiled slightly, her demeanour softening. "Of course. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."
Violet nodded in response before standing, gripping the strap of her bag as she turned toward the door.
Upon entering the hallway, a sense of unease coiled in her stomach. While she had managed to uncover some truths regarding Ivy's predicament, it left her feeling sour. The way everyone treated Ivy—like she was the problem, like defending herself made her dangerous—only deepened Violet's frustration.
Her fingers curled into her blazer pockets, seeking something to ground her. As she did, her fingertips brushed against a folded piece of paper.
Mia's note.
Violet glanced up and down the hallway, ensuring no one was watching before carefully pulling it out. She unfolded it, her eyes tracing over Mia's warning:
Stay away from Chelsea. If you get involved, she'll make your life hell.
A lump formed in Violet's throat. She already felt uncomfortable around Chelsea—something about her presence put her on edge—but she hesitated. She remembered how Ivy had seemed intimidating at first, how that initial feeling of unease had softened once she understood her better.
What if she was wrong again?
Still, the warning clung to her thoughts, gnawing at the back of her mind.
And no matter how much she wanted to dismiss it, she couldn't shake the feeling that things were only going to get more complicated from here.
⋯
Violet wasn't left alone with her thoughts for long. The rhythmic sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hall, drawing her attention. She turned just as a boy neared her, his uniform neat and well-fitted. He had the kind of presence that turned heads—tall, striking, and effortlessly composed. His wavy, shoulder-length black hair had a subtle red hue under the artificial lights, and his hazel eyes glimmered with flecks of gold as they met hers. There was something about him that seemed almost too perfect, like he had stepped out of a magazine.
More importantly, he was in her year. His red tie had the same distinct design as hers, marking him as a fellow Year 11 student. But what stood out most was the golden pin on his blazer collar, engraved with the words "Student Council."
He stopped a polite distance away, offering a disarming smile. "You look a little lost. Need any help?" His tone was soft and inviting.
Violet blinked, caught slightly off guard. She wasn't used to strangers approaching her so openly, much less ones with this kind of charm. She hesitated before answering, but his patient expression made it clear he wasn't in a rush.
"I was just… waiting," she said vaguely, not wanting to explain herself to someone she had just met.
The boy nodded, as if that answer was perfectly reasonable. "I'm Lucien," he introduced himself. "Student council representative for Year 11." He tilted his head slightly, studying her. "You're new, right?"
Violet nodded.
"Well, welcome to Whitewater Charter," Lucien hummed, his grin growing even broader. "I swear, it's not as bad as it looks."
As Violet began to unwind, her gaze caught something unusual. A discreet bandage adorned the side of Lucien's neck, mostly concealed by his collar. This wasn't the first time she had noticed someone trying to cover that specific spot.
Her eyes lingered on it for a moment too long, suspicion creeping into her expression.
Lucien, sharp as he was, picked up on it instantly. Without missing a beat, he raised a finger to his lips in a shushing motion, a quiet, knowing look in his eyes.
Violet paused for a moment, contemplating her response, before finally, she raised her hand and gestured zipping her lips shut.
Lucien chuckled, clearly amused. "Not many people pick up on it so quickly," he mused.
Violet gave a slight shrug as they strolled down the corridor. "You notice it more when you're in the same boat."
His gaze flickered with interest. "And here I thought I was being subtle."
"You're definitely not."
Lucien laughed heartily, a genuine chuckle that made her wonder just how many people fell for his simple bandage disguise.
As they neared the canteen, Lucien glanced at her. "So, how do you hide yours?"
"Makeup," Violet answered casually.
He raised his brows, clearly impressed. "That's smart. Probably a lot better than a conspicuous bandage." He tapped his own neck with a small smirk. "People ask about this all the time."
Violet huffed a short laugh. "Yeah, it's kind of obvious."
The conversation flowed easily as they walked. Eventually, curiosity got the better of her. "So… how many lives do you have?"
"Right now? Nineteen."
Violet's eyes widened in excitement. "You're a Low-Rank too?"
Lucien's smile faltered just slightly before he shook his head. "High-Rank."
That made Violet pause. "But—"
"The range is usually higher, I know," Lucien said smoothly, as if he had explained this before.
Violet hesitated before asking, "How many did you used to have?"
For the first time since they started talking, Lucien's polished mask cracked. It was only for a second, but Violet saw it—the flicker of something dark, something heavy. Anger. Pain. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the same charming demeanour.
"Fifty-six," he answered lightly, as if the number meant nothing.
Violet wasn't sure how to respond. Her mind echoed with the unspoken question: How did he lose that many lives?
Lucien didn't offer any further details, and she didn't press him. Instead, he smoothly shifted the conversation. "What about you?"
"I started with fifteen," she said. "Now I'm at thirteen."
Lucien hummed playfully. "I wish I was a Low-Rank like you."
She frowned. "Why?"
"High-Ranks make great targets," he said, his tone light but edged with something unreadable. "Plus...Regeneration would be nice too."
Violet didn't miss the implication. The Crossed Clan. He didn't say it outright, but it was there, lingering in the silence between his words. The thought made her uneasy, but before she could dwell on it, she decided to shift gears.
"So… student council," she said, glancing at the pin on his blazer. "What do you actually do?"
Lucien smirked, clearly amused by the sudden change in topic. "I make sure things run smoothly for our year—school events, student concerns, disciplinary matters." He waved a hand. "Mostly paperwork and pretending to be responsible."
Violet gave him a sceptical look. "So… you don't actually do anything?"
"Shh." Lucien put a finger to his lips again, grinning. "Don't expose me."
The sound of the bell ringing cut their conversation short, signalling the end of the period. As students began flooding into the canteen, Violet noticed Lucien's attention shift. She followed his gaze and spotted a girl entering, surrounded by a small group of admirers.
The girl carried herself with effortless confidence, her long auburn hair swaying as she walked. There was something about her presence that was impossible to ignore.
Violet turned back to Lucien, noticing the small smirk playing on his lips. "Who's that?" she asked.
"My partner," he said smoothly.
Violet blinked before her face lit up with realization. "Oh! Congrats."
Lucien turned to her, brow slightly raised. "Hmm?"
"On your relationship," she clarified with a small smile. "You two look good together."
For a split second, Lucien looked genuinely caught off guard. Then, a slow grin spread across his face. He chuckled to himself, clearly pleased by the misunderstanding.
Oh, this is going to be fun.