Flora thought the worst was behind her.
The online chaos had finally gone silent, and after the unknown sender wiped everything clean from the forum, she'd allowed herself to hope that maybe just maybe things would go back to normal.
But peace never lasts long.
The next morning, the quiet cruelty began again not behind screens this time, but in the halls she had to walk every day.
---
It started small.
As she handed in her homework after first period, a sudden splash of sticky liquid stained the papers.
The student beside her gave a halfhearted smile, holding an empty juice box. "Oops. My hand slipped."
The class snickered. Flora just stood there, her knuckles tightening around the damp pages.
She said nothing. Just wiped the juice off her sleeve and placed the ruined sheet on the teacher's desk before returning to her seat or rather, to where her seat should have been.
Her desk had been pushed outside the classroom.
She froze for a moment, then quietly dragged it back in, ignoring the laughter that rippled around her. The legs of the desk screeched against the floor, loud enough to cover the sound of her heart cracking a little more.
She didn't cry.
Not yet.
---
When self-study period came, she escaped to her usual refuge the art room.
The one place she thought they wouldn't follow her.
She reached for the handle, already feeling the relief of solitude waiting behind that door.
The moment she pushed it open
Splash!
A bucket overturned from above, spilling cold water mixed with chalk dust and detergent all over her.
The shock stole her breath. Her uniform clung to her skin, her hair dripping in pale streaks of white and gray. The acrid smell burned her nose as laughter erupted behind her.
"Maybe try washing your attitude next time!" someone shouted.
Her vision blurred not from the water, but from the tears she fought to hold back.
She stood there, trembling, humiliated, staring down at the puddle gathering around her shoes.
Then — silence.
The air changed before she even turned around.
---
Shane stood in the doorway, his shadow stretching across the tiles.
His glasses caught the faint light, masking his eyes, but his tone when he spoke was sharp enough to cut through the laughter.
"Which one of you thought this was funny?"
No one answered.
"It was just a joke," one of them muttered weakly.
Shane's lips curved not in a smile, but in something cold and almost dangerous. "Then you won't mind cleaning up your joke. Every drop of it. Now."
The weight in his voice made even the boldest of them lower their heads.
Without waiting for them to move, he took off his blazer and draped it over Flora's shoulders.
"Come on," he said softly, guiding her toward the hall. "You'll catch a cold."
She didn't resist. The warmth of his jacket felt too gentle to question.
---
In the infirmary, she sat on the bed, wringing water from her sleeves while Shane stood beside the window, hands in his pockets.
"You should file a complaint with the student union," he said evenly. "Discipline and student conduct fall under our responsibility."
"Our?" she echoed, voice still trembling. "You mean yours."
He turned his head slightly, that faint smile playing at the corner of his lips. "My duty as vice president, remember?"
It was a polite smile sweet on the surface, but something about it made her heart skip a beat.
She didn't know why, but it felt like there was more behind his calm than he let anyone see.
Still, she managed a small smile of her own. "Thank you. For earlier… and now."
His gaze softened for a moment. "You don't need to thank me, Flora."
Then, just like that, he looked away expression unreadable again.
Rumors spread like wildfire but this time, it wasn't about Flora.
the students who had tormented her were facing something they couldn't laugh away.
One girl found her private messages mysteriously leaked.
Another's phone froze permanently on a screen of corrupted code.
The ringleader who'd rigged the bucket prank received a sudden call to the principal's office. By the end of the day, he was suspended for "past incidents of bullying," backed by detailed evidence no one knew existed.
Whispers filled the corridors again, but this time, no one dared to look at Flora when she passed.
And she… had no idea any of this was happening.
---
That day, as she got into her car after school, the sun dipped low behind the building.
From the rooftop above, a faint figure leaned against the railing phone in hand, eyes following her every movement.
When she closed the door and the car drove off, his screen glowed faintly.
Unknown: "Told you I'd protect you."
"I keep my promises."
Only if she had turned back and looked up at the rooftop she could have seen a man standing there looking at her direction.
He watched her car disappear down the street before sliding the phone back into his pocket.
The faint curve of a smile formed, but it wasn't warmth it was something quieter, deeper. The phone screen dimmed, and the figure slipped away into the fading dusk.
Unnoticed by Flora.
Some promises were gentle. Some… were meant to bind.