That night, after what felt like the longest day of her life, Valentine finally returned to her dorm. The faint hum of the campus outside faded as she shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment.
Rachel had already collapsed face-first on her bed, still in her uniform. Valentine chuckled softly, shaking her head before heading to the bathroom.
The warm water of the shower washed away the stress clinging to her skin. She slipped into her soft white pajamas afterwards—silky, with a tiny gold "V" embroidered near the wrist. A gift from her mother. Her hair, still damp, framed her face in loose waves as she sat by the bed, running a towel through it.
Rachel stirred, mumbling something incoherent before turning to face the wall.
Valentine smiled faintly. "You sleep like you ran a marathon," she whispered, though Rachel was long gone to dreamland.
Climbing into bed, Valentine's gaze drifted toward the window. Through the half-open curtain, the moonlight spilled across the floor like silver paint. And on the opposite building's railing… a shadow stood.
She blinked. It was faint but unmistakable—someone was there, watching.
Her hand gripped the sheets, a chill running through her spine.
But just as she leaned closer to get a better look, the shadow vanished into the darkness.
"Probably my imagination…" she murmured, lying back down. Her eyelids grew heavy, and within moments, she was fast asleep—unaware that the same shadow had reappeared, standing silently, watching her window.
---
The next morning, her alarm shattered the quiet with a loud beep-beep-beep!
Valentine groaned, her voice raspy with sleep. She reached for her phone, hitting snooze twice before finally sitting up.
The golden rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, illuminating her small but cozy dorm. Yawning, she muttered under her breath, "First day of class… please, let today be peaceful."
She said a short prayer, her words soft and sincere. Then, pushing herself up, she began to dress.
Malcolm's school uniform was elegant—tailored navy skirt, white shirt with gold buttons, and a blazer stitched with the school's crest: two wings and a silver crown. She added her personal touches: the delicate chain bracelet from her mom, a pearl hairpin, and her gold-trimmed tablet case.
Her tablet was her companion—it held her notes, ideas, and even tiny doodles she drew when she got bored.
By the time she was done, she turned, admiring her reflection briefly—simple but refined.
Then she noticed Rachel—still asleep, hugging her pillow like it was a long-lost love.
"Unbelievable…" Valentine sighed, hands on hips.
She tried shaking her friend gently. "Rachel, wake up. We're going to be late."
Rachel just groaned.
Valentine frowned. "Alright, you asked for it."
She tapped her phone, and suddenly a trumpet alarm blasted through the dorm.
Rachel jumped, shrieking. "VALENTINE!"
Valentine was already by the window, laughing as she threw open the curtains. "Rise and shine!"
Rachel squinted at the light, muttering a few curses before rushing to the bathroom.
Within minutes, she emerged transformed—hair brushed to glossy perfection, her uniform paired with diamond earrings, a designer brooch, and a silky scarf tied fashionably around her neck.
Valentine blinked. "You're seriously turning school into a runway?"
Rachel smirked. "A girl's gotta maintain her brand."
Together, they left the dorm, joining the river of students heading to class.
Luxury shimmered everywhere—students flaunting designer watches, limited-edition pens, custom jewelry. Some even had bodyguards carrying their books.
Valentine looked around, half amused, half overwhelmed. "Are they attending school or a fashion show?"
Rachel laughed. "Welcome to Malcolm. You'll get used to it."
The school halls were lined with marble floors and crystal chandeliers. Every wall gleamed with portraits of past presidents and alumni—each one more powerful than the last.
Malcolm's classes were divided into four "Gems": Sapphire, Ruby, Emerald, and Diamond. Each gem reflected intelligence, social status, and arrival ranking. The Diamond Class, of course, belonged only to the Student Council.
Valentine and Rachel, though in the same year, weren't in the same class.
Rachel sighed as they reached the hallway. "Guess we're not classmates."
Valentine tried to sound cheerful. "It's fine. We'll still see each other."
"Then promise me you'll ace your exams and donate something big so you can transfer to my class," Rachel said dramatically.
Valentine laughed. "Noted, Miss Aristocrat."
They hugged before parting ways.
---
Valentine entered her new classroom, taking in the chatter of unfamiliar faces. Her eyes caught a familiar one—Alice, the pink-haired girl from the Welcome Ceremony.
She had already gathered a group of girls around her, laughing loudly as if she ruled the place.
When Valentine took her seat, Alice's gaze landed on her.
"Well, look who we have here," Alice said sweetly—but her tone dripped venom. "The scholarship girl who thinks she's special because the Vice President looked her way."
The group of girls giggled.
Valentine kept silent, calmly arranging her books.
"What? No defense?" Alice taunted, stepping closer. "Or are you too embarrassed to speak?"
Still, Valentine said nothing.
Annoyed, Alice snatched her bag and tossed it aside. The thud echoed through the classroom.
Valentine exhaled softly, finally meeting her eyes. She sized Alice up, outdated fashion_ no family crest on her, nodding her head in understanding after quick analysis she said, Her tone calm, but sharp as glass.
"Don't ruin what you can't afford."
The class went silent. Phones came out instantly, recording.
Alice's face turned red. "You—!" she started, but the door opened.
Professor Lorenz stepped in.
The old man's presence was commanding. His gray hair was slicked back neatly, his glasses perched low on his nose, and a short beard lined his jaw. He looked every bit like a scholar from an ancient painting.
Alice froze, then stormed to her seat, fuming.
"Good morning," Professor Lorenz greeted, setting his books on the desk. "Welcome to Malcolm. I expect seriousness, not immaturity."
His deep voice filled the room as he introduced himself. He taught the sciences—particularly physics and chemistry—and he wasted no time jumping straight into a question.
"Let's start simple. What is the fundamental difference between velocity and acceleration?"
A confident girl at the front raised her hand. "Velocity is speed in a given direction, and acceleration is when the speed increases."
Lorenz nodded slightly. "Correct… but incomplete."
She frowned, trying to add more, but faltered.
Lorenz didn't correct her. Instead, his eyes scanned the room. "Anyone else?"
Valentine tried to look away, but fate clearly had other plans.
"Miss Loraine," he called. "You seem attentive. Your thoughts?"
Her heart skipped. Slowly, she stood.
"Velocity describes the rate of change of displacement over time," she began steadily. "Acceleration is the rate of change of velocity—meaning it measures how quickly speed or direction changes. So, acceleration can exist even when speed decreases, as long as velocity changes."
The room was silent.
Professor Lorenz's brows lifted slightly. "Accurate and well-articulated."
A soft murmur spread through the class. A few students clapped quietly.
Valentine sat down, cheeks warm. She wasn't looking for attention, but she could feel the stares—admiring and envious alike.
After class, as she packed her things, someone approached her desk.
It was the girl who'd answered earlier. Her accent was lilting, French.
"Bonjour," she greeted with a polite smile. "I am Maysha. You are… impressive. I'd like to learn from you, if you don't mind."
Valentine blinked, surprised. "Oh… sure," she said softly.
But as Maysha walked away, Valentine couldn't help but wonder—was this girl a friend… or another foe in disguise?