The word "disgusting" bounced off the walls of the deserted hallway, chasing Mary as her heels faded into the distance. I stood there, paralyzed, feeling the weight of that single syllable as if it were a physical blow. The golden doorknob of my classroom gleamed with silent mockery, a trophy from a world I clearly didn't belong to.
I clenched my jaw until I felt a sharp pain, and my fingers tensed, crumpling the fabric of my skirt into a fist of pale knuckles.
"Don't... don't you dare cry," I barely whispered with what little strength I had on my lips. "You won't give them that luxury."
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with her custom scent.
"She was right..." I muttered, feeling helplessness tangling in my mind. "I can't divert my thoughts. It won't let me forget."
I could only push the door open and enter. The classroom was almost empty, but the few glances that fell on me were quick, evaluating, and contemptuous. Their looks told me: What is she doing here?
It seemed they already knew without knowing me—they knew I was poor.
But as I endured them, something else caught my attention. Each look, though hurtful, was different. Special. As if behind the contempt there was something else shining... talent? Ambition? Hunger for something I couldn't quite understand?
There was only one different look. A girl sitting in the back, her eyes were larger and her features more pronounced and less circular, with a cut that reminded me of a wolf. It was orderly in its disorder, with sharp edges made with a razor. A layered cut with natural movement. She constantly stroked and combed it—nerves? Habit? I don't know... I only knew that her gaze was the only one that didn't hurt. But all the others were just perfect clones of Mary.
Near the window, three girls in different uniforms formed a perfect triangle. The one in the center had a presence that filled the space even though she was sitting. Blue hair pulled back in a high ponytail that swayed like a crown with each movement of her head. Her amber eyes surveyed the room with a calm authority, not arrogant, just... natural. As if leading were as instinctive as breathing.
To her left, a girl in a green uniform watched her with absolute attention, nodding at every word I couldn't hear from the door. To her right, another in a gold uniform held a hand mirror, adjusting the center girl's hair with delicate fingers, as if that were the greatest honor in the world.
"Mina, are you going to participate in the festival?" I heard the one in green ask with a hopeful voice.
Something about that scene made me uncomfortable, though I didn't know exactly what. The girl in the center shone, no doubt, but that shine seemed... contained. Like a plant growing in a pot that was too small. Her friends surrounded her with genuine affection, but also with an invisible weight that seemed to anchor her to the ground.
I closed the door without saying a word. The humiliation burned under my skin like acid. I needed to do something. Something normal. Something that would anchor me back to the reality I knew.
"The library."
I needed to lose myself among pages that would transport me far from here, maybe a romantic comedy, or a fantasy story. Any world would be better than this one...
I'm surely one of those few special people who still read.
I headed to the place that ironically Mary had shown me minutes before. I was seeking comfort in enemy territory. As I walked, I passed by two golden girls in the middle of a trivial conversation.
"Did you see NEON7's new video yet?" one said, her hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail.
"Yes! Vhy looks DIVINE in that white suit," the other responded, sighing dramatically. "He's my sunshine every morning."
"Totally my favorite," declared the one with glasses, putting a hand on her heart. "Although Zen also kills me when he sings solo at the end."
"What about DM?"
"Ugh... I like how he raps, but compared to Shugar... you know. Definitely last on my list."
"Shugar is perfect. I don't know how I'm going to survive when they graduate."
I walked past, thinking about how trivial their concerns seemed.
Hathor's library was another reminder that I didn't belong here. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling like unreachable constellations, students reclined on velvet sofas that cost more than a year's rent. None of them had a book in hand. It was clear they came more for the coffee than for reading.
The murmur of their conversations was low and refined, as if even their whispers had pedigree. The bookshelves weren't simple shelves, but works of cabinetry carved in dark, gleaming woods. Even the carts for returning books looked like museum pieces, with polished bronze wheels and leather handles.
This was nothing like the dusty, cozy bookstore near our apartment. I felt like a field mouse at a Persian cat exhibition.
With my head down, I made my way through the crowd, fixing my gaze on the calculated lines of the floor. I was so focused on not tripping and ignoring everyone's stares that their conversations were just static to my ears.
Without time to react, two pairs of shoes appeared before my eyes, following the momentum of a conversation oblivious to me.
The impact was dull and wet.
A hot, sticky liquid soaked the front of my white blouse and blue jacket. The coffee burned against my skin, seeping through the fabric of my clothes. It wasn't just hot, but had a light vanilla aroma I had never perceived in the instant coffee I drank at home.
"Shit!" exclaimed a masculine voice, high-pitched and laden with indignation.
I looked up. In front of me was the angel from the subway, that tall boy with pink hair and perfect skin. That same face that Mom had on magazine covers I never stopped to look at. But now his former serene gaze had transformed into the withering fury of an offended god.
In his right hand he held an empty white ceramic cup, from which the last drop of its contents dripped onto my already ruined uniform.
"What, can't you see where you're walking?!" he spat, looking with horror at the brown stain spreading across my chest. "Don't you know how long it took me to order this coffee?!"
As I rubbed my head and felt the liquid burning my skin through the fabric, I noticed that beside him was another boy, equally impressive in beauty, but with large eyes that showed pupils as dark as polished obsidian pearls. His peaceful expression had transformed into one of surprise and genuine concern.
Around me, silence spread like a wave. Interrupted conversations, coffee cups suddenly set down on their saucers.
All eyes fixed on the spectacle: the new girl, soaked in coffee, in front of two of Hathor's most handsome students. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several girls discreetly take out their phones. The disguised flashes and the sound of digital shutters confirmed that my humiliation was being immortalized for Hathor's digital posterity.
"Dude, calm down," said the boy with obsidian eyes in a soft voice, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"But... she spilled my coffee..." the pink-haired boy muttered like a small child before turning to me. He shook his head in an exaggerated movement, his hair following the momentum like in a shampoo commercial. "I'm going for another coffee, see you in class, Jhin."
When the boy from the train turned to leave, his expression changed for an instant. The mask of indignation slipped, revealing something more complex: tiredness? Resignation? It was so brief I could have imagined it. On the lapel of his blazer he wore his small silver pin in the shape of a jester's mask, gripping it with nostalgic hatred.
"Yeah, sure, Vhy," he responded to his friend before addressing me. "I'm really sorry, truly."
As he approached, I perceived an aroma that contrasted brutally with the spilled coffee: something fresh and citrusy, but with a woody undertone that could only be a custom-made perfume. The kind of fragrance that doesn't come in bottles that ordinary people can buy.
His attitude was so unexpected, so different from the subway demon's reaction. Is this kindness? Genuine kindness in a world like this?
"You're new, right? My name is Jhin, nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand.
I noticed that while he spoke to me, he bit his lower lip slightly. An almost imperceptible gesture, but one that contrasted with his perfect image.
I took it, feeling the softness and firmness of his grip, along with the cold metal of his Lotus ring. He helped me up, almost carrying my entire weight.
"Y-yes..." I muttered, answering his question. "It's my first day," I mentioned almost reflexively, seeing on his face an expression close to surprise. His kindness was a pleasant find, like a honey candy after a spoonful of salt.
But then I saw it. His gaze traveling over my stained uniform from head to toe, analyzing my situation... he was doing it too... he also saw me that way.
I felt like the ground beneath my feet was breaking, while a sea of emptiness carried me between its waves.
"Is everyone in this world the same?"
I looked at my stained uniform and then at Jhin's. Mine, a slightly faded blue that betrayed its passage through at least one previous generation of students. His, a deep and vibrant blue, with perfect seams that fit exactly to his figure.
Here everyone had tailored uniforms. Blue, green, gold, and red. Mine resembled a dull gray more than the original blue.
"Leave me alone," I mumbled, releasing the warmth of his hand as if it burned. My hands trembled so much I had to clench my fists to hide it. I felt a buzzing in my ears and a dry mouth, as if my body were preparing to flee or fight.
"I already made the mistake of trusting once... I won't do it twice."
The boy with obsidian eyes, Jhin, seemed surprised, as if his practiced spells weren't working.
"What happened? Did I do something wrong?" he questioned with a trembling look, but as if a light bulb turned on in his pupils, he began to take off his jacket, extending it toward me. "Here, so you can cover the stain and they'll let you into classes."
I took it with trembling hands. It was his blue jacket, with heavy and thick fabric, of undeniable quality. On the chest and back it displayed Hathor's shield embroidered in gold thread.
A familiar warmth rose from my neck to my cheeks. That damn blush that always gave me away when I was embarrassed. His actions seem genuine, but I know they're not... here it's not like that.
"I said leave me alone," my voice sounded harsher than I intended. "I can clean myself. I don't need anyone's charity."
"What? But I want to help."
My throat burned, but I couldn't stay quiet. If I did, the knot in my chest would suffocate me.
"You think I don't know boys like you, with your perfect faces and unlimited credit cards?! You're just another spoiled kid in a school that isolates them from reality!"
Jhin's face changed instantly. The warmth in his eyes evaporated, replaced by cold disbelief, and then by a spark of contained anger.
"Fine," he said, his voice tense like a string about to snap. "Whatever you want," he snatched his jacket from my hands and looked at me as if I had just slapped him.
In his haste and anger, a small white envelope slipped from the left pocket of the jacket, falling to the ground with a slight flutter, landing right at my feet.
He didn't seem to notice.
The crowd, which had stopped to observe the spectacle as if it were a play, lost interest and returned to their refined conversations. I was left alone in the middle of the hallway, sticky, humiliated for the third time in less than an hour, and with my heart beating furiously against my ribs.
I bent down and picked up the envelope. The paper was thick and high quality, almost velvety to the touch. In one corner, engraved in silver ink that shimmered under the lights, was a logo I recognized instantly from billboards and magazines: a stylized "N7."
"NEON7."
I turned it over with trembling fingers. On the back, a small sticker sealed the envelope. It had another logo, one I also knew, a female musical group I'd heard many times on the radio: a faceted crystal amethyst. It was Amethyst's logo.
My brain connected the dots at the speed of light. The arrogant coffee boy and the boy with obsidian eyes. They weren't simple students. They were members of one of the country's most famous idol bands. NEON7, the band that had broken many sales records in their single year of broadcast. The one that had fans camping outside their concerts for weeks. The one my mother listened to while cleaning the house, pretending she was still sixteen.
Vhy, the vocalist with the perfect voice, and Jhin, the second main voice. How didn't I realize before?
As I watched Jhin catch up to Vhy, part of me wanted to scream in frustration. Three humiliations in less than an hour. Was this some kind of record? Or simply the standard welcome for scholarship students at Hathor?
The idiot who had spilled coffee on me and the gentleman I had just insulted weren't just any students.
NEON7. My brain processed the information as my fingers held the envelope. The irony was almost painful: my mother collected every magazine they appeared in, and now I had insulted one of them. If she knew her daughter had offended her teenage idol... she would disown me.
I quickly hid the envelope in my backpack, looking around to make sure no one had seen me.