The words had barely left Autumn's lips when a loud thud sounded behind her—books hitting the floor.
It was William Moore, senior in the science A-track and the English class rep.
He wasn't just any student—he was also Autumn's English tutor, and the boy she had once quietly adored.
William froze, staring at her. He didn't even bother to pick up his papers. His tall, elegant figure cut through the room as he strode forward and seized her wrist.
His brows knit together, his usually calm, aloof eyes flashing with emotion.
"You want to transfer?!"
"Autumn James, you chose humanities because all of us—your brother, your mentors, me—spent days weighing your options. How can you just throw that away?" His voice carried both anger and hurt, as if she had betrayed not only his advice but his faith in her.
"We planned your future for you! Do you know how much thought and effort that took? And now, without a word to any of us, you're changing everything?"
Autumn's lips curled in a cold smile. She pulled her hand free.
"Oh, so this is all for my own good, isn't it?" Her eyes sharpened.
"Tell me, William. If it were Anna Hawthorne standing here, would you be dictating her future too?" His heart jolted, and before he could stop himself, he snapped back:
"That's different. Anna's health is fragile. What matters most for her is happiness, not grades or careers." Autumn's chest tightened. She had expected this answer, but hearing it aloud still pierced like a knife.
William realized what he had said and panicked, reaching for her again.
"Autumn, wait—I didn't mean it that way—" She stepped back, out of his reach.
Once, she would never have rejected him. Once, she had looked at him as if he hung the moon.
Not anymore.
William's hand hung in the air. His expression hardened, his voice dropping cold.
"Fine. Do what you want. Just don't regret it later." Autumn shot him a look of pure disdain.
Regret? You and your whole circle will regret.
William gathered his papers, dropped them on the teacher's desk, and left without another word.
Autumn didn't watch him go. She turned back to Mr. Lin, the geography teacher.
He wasn't young; it didn't take much to see what had just happened. And judging from Autumn's listless attitude in class, he knew she wasn't acting out of impulse—she truly didn't belong in humanities.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked after a pause. "If you are, fill out this transfer form. Bring it back to me, and I'll start the process."
Autumn blinked. A moment ago, he had seemed unwilling. But after William's little outburst, he had changed his mind so quickly.
Well then—she might as well thank William after all.
She clutched the form with barely suppressed glee and hurried back toward class.
At the door, she overheard Anna's lilting voice, bright and coy above the chatter.
"So then, I told Ethan, 'You bought so many cherries, what if they go bad?' And he just laughed and said, 'If they rot, we'll give them to Chaz. If he ends up in the hospital, that's his problem.'"
The class erupted in laughter.
"Anna, your brother spoils you so much! Just buying whatever you want.""Ugh, I wish I had a brother like that."
Anna ducked her head, feigning modesty.
"Oh? Isn't that normal? If you can afford it, you should treat yourself well." Her words only stoked more jealousy.
When Autumn stepped inside, silence fell like a curtain.
She ignored the stares, walked calmly to her desk, and sat down.
A boy ambled over casually, eyes flicking toward the form on her desk.
"What's that you're holding, Autumn?" She said nothing, sliding a book over the paper.
Her classmates had never been close to her. She was quiet, withdrawn, and Anna's constant glow had left her in the shadows. With no desk mate, her table was always easy pickings.
The boy smirked, seized the chance, and yanked the paper from beneath her book.
"Let's see what the great Autumn James is hiding!" he jeered, waving it in the air as he ran toward the door. But as his eyes scanned the page, his grin faltered.
"A transfer… application?" The class froze. Murmurs died.
Autumn rose slowly, eyes cold. She walked straight up to him—then drove her foot hard into his stomach.
He crashed back into a desk, groaning as it toppled beneath him, books scattering across the floor.
Gasps echoed through the room. No one dared move.
Autumn's lips curved faintly. In another life, she remembered this same boy exposing her diary—her secret crush on William plastered for the whole class to see. She had been humiliated, mocked as the foolish girl reaching for the stars.
Not this time.
She crouched, plucked the paper from his shaking hands, and murmured, low and sharp:
"Don't cross me. Understood?" The boy nodded, pale and trembling.
Even Anna flinched. This was not the meek, overlooked Autumn she knew.
No—it couldn't be her.
But before Anna could think further, a voice cut through the tension.
"Autumn James! Aren't you afraid the teachers will find out?"
"Yeah! This is a school, not your house. Who do you think you are?"
"No wonder no one likes you—bad grades, bad temper. You're nothing but trouble."
Autumn lifted her gaze, icy and unbothered.
"Oh? And what of it?" The speaker choked, words dying on his tongue.
"Teacher's coming!" someone shouted from the hallway.
Faces lit with anticipation. Autumn was done for, they thought. And worse—it wasn't just any teacher.
It was the notorious disciplinary director, St. Claire's very own "iron witch."