By morning, the campus was buzzing not with noise, but with nerves.
The debate had ended the night before, but its tremors were still rippling beneath the surface of Elite High. Veronica Lin had walked off the stage with no mic drop, no triumphant smirk—just silence and steel in her eyes.
And that scared people more than any loud victory ever could.
She had dismantled the legacy candidate with facts, elegance, and empathy. She hadn't just survived Victoria's onslaught—she had made her bleed in front of an entire auditorium.
But what Veronica didn't know—what none of them knew—was that the real damage wasn't public.
It was private.
And it came wrapped in a knock on the nurse's office door.
8:45 AM – Nurse's Office
Lucas stood by the tinted window, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Veronica sat on the cot, one sleeve rolled up, as the nurse examined her bruised knuckles from yet another night at the Lin family gym.
"I told you, I hit the locker door by accident," she said smoothly.
The nurse gave her a pointed look. "That locker must've owed you money, Miss Lin."
Lucas didn't smile. But his gaze lingered.
"Do I need to start escorting you to gym class now?" he asked once they were alone.
Veronica wiped her knuckles clean with a tissue, then looked up. "Are you offering, Mr. Bodyguard?"
He didn't take the bait. Not verbally, at least.
But his fingers twitched.
"Yesterday's footage from the west stairwell," he said instead, tossing her a slim black drive. "Two students tried sneaking into your locker again. One had a camera."
Veronica caught it mid-air, her expression hardening.
"How long until Victoria runs out of pawns?"
Lucas's lips curled—just slightly. "When they stop volunteering."
She leaned back against the cold wall, exhaling. "Then maybe it's time I show them what happens when you try to corner a Lin."
There it was again—that fire behind her lashes. Quiet, controlled, but burning all the same.
He watched her for a beat too long.
"Your scars," he said suddenly. "You cover them well."
Veronica blinked.
Then she turned her arm over.
Bruises.
Callouses.
Faint pink lines, old and stubborn, across her forearm.
Not the kind you get from falling off jungle gyms. Not the kind anyone at this polished school would recognize.
"Some scars are ugly," she said softly. "Some are quiet. But all of them? They scream when someone touches the wrong spot."
Lucas didn't flinch.
"I hear them," he said.
And for the first time, Veronica felt a silence that wasn't lonely.
11:00 AM – Student Council Office
Meanwhile, Victoria Tang was spiraling.
"What do you mean we're down twenty points?" she snapped, slamming a printed survey onto the desk.
Maya winced. "The scholarship bloc has completely shifted. The drama club, too. And I think even the robotics team is halfway to worshipping her."
"She's not even human," Victoria hissed. "She's a… a ghost in high heels. You try to crush her, and she gets stronger."
"She's playing the long game," Maya muttered. "What if she's not just trying to win? What if she's trying to replace you?"
Victoria's hand froze mid-air.
Then she smiled.
"Then we cut deeper."
1:15 PM – Art Wing Hallway
Veronica was leaving her sociology class when a hand slipped into hers.
Not to hold it.
To place something inside.
A folded piece of paper.
She turned.
No one there.
Just the blurry motion of a student ducking behind the east stairwell.
Veronica opened the note.
One sentence, scrawled in careful, anonymous print.
"You're not the only one who died before they got here."
She stared at the paper for a long time.
Long enough that Lucas, trailing behind her, narrowed his eyes.
"Something wrong?"
She shook her head.
"No," she lied.
But her fingers closed around the paper like a secret lifeline.
3:40 PM – Library Archives
Veronica sat in the far back corner, where the fluorescent lights flickered and even the librarians didn't tread. The folder in front of her was marked Student Transfer Histories – Past 5 Years.
She flipped through names.
Dozens.
Then stopped on one.
Liam Zhao – Transferred Sophomore Year.
Previous School: St. Augustine's Mental Health Institute, Youth Education Wing.
Her lips pressed together.
Veronica remembered Liam—always sitting near the back, hoodie drawn, fingers twitching when things got too loud.
Everyone called him "Glitch Boy" behind his back.
She had never looked twice.
Now she saw the name like it was circled in blood.
4:00 PM – East Courtyard
Liam Zhao was sitting on the fountain edge, notebook in his lap, earbuds in.
She approached without speaking.
He didn't look up.
Not until she sat beside him and dropped the note into his lap.
"You?"
Liam didn't answer immediately.
But his fingers tightened around the notebook.
"Everyone wants to forget what they've survived here," he said quietly. "But you you're making people remember. That scares them."
"Are you scared?"
"No," he whispered. "I'm ready."
Veronica looked at him then, not as a damaged classmate, but as something else.
An ally.
Not because he was strong.
Because he knew what it felt like to be shattered.
5:30 PM – Lucas's Apartment, Security Wing
The room smelled like fresh coffee and ozone from the rain.
Lucas watched the footage again—Veronica talking to Liam. Then to two girls from the debate team. Then to a first-year council aide who hadn't spoken a word all year.
She was forming something.
Not a fan club.
Not a campaign.
A movement.
She wasn't building a reputation anymore.
She was resurrecting the forgotten.
His phone buzzed.
A text from his father.
"Status report. Is the Lin girl still just a puppet?"
Lucas stared at the message for a long moment.
Then deleted it.
9:00 PM – Lin Mansion Balcony
Veronica stood outside her room, wind tugging at her hair.
The stars tonight were cruel.
She held the note again, rereading that single sentence.
"You're not the only one who died before they got here."
Then, quietly, she took out a pen.
She flipped the page.
And on the back, she wrote:
"Then maybe we rise together."