The school courtyard looked different in the early morning light. Quieter. Emptier. Almost like a battlefield waiting for soldiers to rise.
Veronica Lin sat alone on the low stone bench behind the east wing, her fingers grazing the surface of a leather-bound folder resting on her lap. The folder held names—too many names—of students who'd been passed over, ignored, or swept aside in Elite High's obsession with status.
They were the ones who didn't matter.
But Veronica remembered them all.
The ones with faded uniforms and secondhand textbooks. The girl who sat in the last row during assemblies, clutching a broken inhaler. The boy who once won a city-wide robotics competition but wasn't allowed to speak during open house because his English wasn't "polished" enough.
And then there were the ones with invisible scars—like her.
"Amy?"
The voice broke through her reverie. Veronica looked up.
It was Jin Tao.
Once the top mathlete in the school. Now a ghost in a hoodie, hands tucked in his sleeves like he was trying to disappear.
Veronica stood. "You came."
He shrugged, looking anywhere but her eyes. "You said… you wanted to talk. About funding."
"About more than that," she said gently. "I'm building a coalition. People like you should have been seen a long time ago."
"I was," he muttered. "Then I wasn't."
A pause.
"They didn't just cut our budget. They cut us out."
Veronica's voice dropped. "That ends now."
Later That Day: Third Floor Lecture Hall – Veronica's Secret Meeting
The space smelled of chalk and mothballs. It hadn't been used in months. But by noon, nearly two dozen students filled the rows.
Not the usual ones.
These weren't the popular kids, the athletes, the beauty queens or billionaire heirs. These were the invisible threads holding the school together—tech leads, art scholars, junior interns in the finance lab, volunteers in the garden project.
And they were listening.
Veronica stood in front of them, chalk in hand, whiteboard behind her filled with circles and red arrows.
"This isn't a popularity contest anymore. It's a war over who gets to be seen, who gets resources, and who writes the rules. Victoria plays with power. I'm giving it back."
Jin raised his hand hesitantly. "But we don't have the votes. Not from the student council. Or the elite clubs."
"No," Veronica said, her voice calm and deliberate. "But we have influence. You build the apps they use. You design the flyers for their parties. You run the databases, help grade the exams, serve in the student-teacher advisory panels…"
She leaned forward, eyes blazing.
"They forgot you. That's their mistake."
A low hum of agreement rippled through the room.
"They won't ignore us much longer," whispered a girl from the chess club.
Veronica smiled. "Exactly."
Meanwhile: Victoria's Private Study
Victoria Ren stared at the new student poll results with a clenched jaw. Her campaign team stood silently around her, tension heavy in the room.
"She's up six points," Maya said, voice clipped. "And trending higher in junior and scholarship groups."
"She's mobilizing the weak," scoffed Jace, one of Victoria's strategic advisors. "The bottom feeders. They're a noise chamber, not a voting bloc."
Victoria said nothing.
Instead, she flipped through the printed dossier Lucas had provided to faculty weeks ago—an anonymized background check of Amy Lin. She stared at it like it owed her an answer.
"She's making them believe," Victoria murmured.
Maya raised a brow. "So we discredit her again?"
"No. This time, we fracture her. One break—deep enough—and the rest of her cracks."
Later: Rooftop Garden – After Sunset
Veronica liked this spot. It was quiet, hidden, but with a full view of the city lights. A strange comfort.
She leaned against the railing, sipping hot tea from a thermos, when Lucas's shadow joined hers.
"You left your locker half-open again," he said coolly. "That's unlike you."
She gave him a look. "You check my locker?"
"I check everything."
Veronica didn't respond. Instead, she handed him the thermos. "Try this."
He took a sip, paused, then nodded slightly. "Chamomile and mint. Calms the nerves."
"You think I need calming?"
"I think you're about to dig up ghosts."
She smiled without humor. "They dug me up first."
Lucas sat beside her on the concrete planter edge, his eyes scanning her face. "You're drawing attention."
"Good."
"Too much, too fast."
"Even better."
A pause. Then his tone softened.
"You're not alone in this, Veronica. You don't have to bleed every time just to prove you're alive."
Her eyes flicked to him, surprised by the intimacy in his voice.
"I don't bleed for proof," she said quietly. "I bleed because someone has to."
Next Day: Veronica's Underground Campaign Rolls On
The buzz around school shifted.
No longer was Amy Lin the broken heiress or the strange returnee. She was something more dangerous now—an idea. A rallying point.
Students began wearing discreet pins—handmade symbols of solidarity.
The robotics team offered to create an automated polling dashboard. The photography club began documenting testimonials of forgotten students, publishing them anonymously through the school's intranet.
Veronica didn't just have followers.
She had believers.
Lunchtime – Cafeteria Scene
As Veronica walked through the bustling hall, trays clattering and chatter humming, several students stood to the side to let her pass.
She wasn't used to reverence.
But she accepted it.
Until she reached Table 12.
There, a girl sat alone—her uniform a size too big, her eyes swollen from crying.
Veronica stopped. "Is this seat taken?"
The girl looked up in shock. "I—I mean… no."
Veronica sat. "You're from Class 2-C. Journalism track?"
The girl nodded. "Nora. I… I joined last semester. People forget."
Veronica smiled gently. "Not anymore."
Across the room, Maya Xu snapped a photo.
She sent it straight to Victoria with one line:
"She's staging charity again."
Victoria replied instantly.
"Then we'll make her look like the villain."
That Night: Veronica's Dorm Room
She found the envelope slipped under her door.
No return name. Just a white card with typed text:
"She's lying to you. Amy Lin isn't who you think she is."
Inside was a USB.
Veronica didn't flinch.
She carried it to her desk, plugged it into a burner laptop, and watched the contents unfold: more psychiatric files, photos of a heavily sedated girl—barely recognizable.
Then, a final file: a blurry image of Veronica sparring in the underground rings back in her past life. Bloodied fists. Cold eyes.
The caption read: "This is who she really is."
Behind her, the door creaked open.
Lucas stepped in, saw the screen, and shut it softly.
"They're escalating," he said.
"So am I," Veronica replied.
He walked closer, gaze locked onto hers.
"You know what this means, don't you?"
She nodded slowly. "They're not just trying to beat me. They're trying to erase me."
Lucas looked down at the image of her in the ring.
"Maybe it's time," he said, "to let them see who you really are."
Veronica's eyes darkened.
"Not yet," she said. "But soon."