Alice and Elara were seated together in the middle row.
A few seats away, Victor, Noah, and Lucien sat side by side, quietly talking among themselves.
The moment the professor entered the classroom, the room slowly settled down.
Elara stood up immediately and said politely,
"Good morning, sir."
For a second, the entire class went silent.
Noah turned to look at Elara, slightly shocked. This wasn't school anymore—this was college.
Students around them stared, confused and surprised by the sudden formality.
Before the awkward silence could stretch any longer, Victor stood up.
"Good morning, sir."
Lucien followed without hesitation.
"Good morning, sir."
Noah smiled and stood up as well.
"Good morning."
Alice sighed softly, but stood up too.
"Good morning, sir."
Seeing them all stand together, the rest of the class quickly joined in.
"Good morning, sir!"
The professor paused, looking at the group with mild surprise… and then smiled.
"Good morning, students."
He placed his books on the desk and looked directly at Elara.
"Miss Elara," he said, "how is the project coming along?"
Elara nodded confidently.
"Sir, we've divided the work properly. We've collected information, worked on visuals, and we'll be meeting real people to understand practical experiences as well."
The professor looked impressed.
"That's good to hear. I'm glad to see such seriousness."
Elara smiled softly and sat down.
The professor then turned toward the board and began the lecture.
"Today, we'll continue with history."
Victor opened his notebook immediately.
Noah leaned forward, listening carefully.
Lucien tried to look serious, even though his pen was already spinning in his fingers.
Alice, however, leaned back in his chair.
History was never his favorite subject.
He rested his chin on his hand, eyes drifting from the board to the window, then back to Elara, who was taking notes seriously.
He whispered under his breath,
"Why does history feel longer than my skincare routine?"
Elara didn't look at him, but quietly replied,
"Because you don't study."
Victor glanced at Alice and shook his head.
Lucien smirked.
"Focus, playboy."
Alice sighed dramatically and finally looked at the board—
trying his best to at least pretend he was paying attention.
The professor paused mid-sentence and looked up from the board.
His eyes landed on Alice.
"Mr. Alice."
The room went quiet.
Alice blinked once, then slowly straightened up.
"Yes, sir?"
"You seem very distracted today," the professor said calmly.
"Since you're part of the feminism project, answer this—what do you understand by feminism?"
A few students exchanged looks.
Alice stood up.
For a moment, it looked like he was about to mess it up.
Then he spoke.
"Feminism isn't about women being superior to men," Alice said.
"It's about equality—equal respect, equal opportunity, and equal freedom.
It's about questioning systems that treat women as less, not creating new ones that treat men as less."
The class went silent.
Even Elara looked up from her notebook.
Alice continued, his voice steady.
"In real life, feminism means listening when women speak, supporting their choices, and standing up when their dignity is threatened—whether in classrooms, workplaces, or public spaces."
The professor nodded slowly.
"Good," he said.
"Very good."
Alice sat down with a lazy confidence, turning his head slightly and flashing a cool, effortless smile at Victor, Lucien, and Noah—
as if to say handled.
Lucien raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Noah mouthed, Did not expect that.
Elara looked at her notebook again, hiding a small smile.
The professor turned back to the board and resumed teaching.
A minute later, without turning around, he asked,
"Mr. Alice, can you tell me the year this movement gained global recognition?"
Alice froze.
His confident expression disappeared instantly.
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then scratched his head.
The class burst into laughter.
Even Victor couldn't hold it in.
The professor turned around, unimpressed.
"That's what happens when confidence walks faster than preparation," he said dryly.
"Sit down," the professor added.
"And next time, focus on studying—not performing."
"Yes, sir," Alice said, sitting down.
He leaned back in his chair again, tapping his pen against the desk.
For about thirty seconds, he tried to pay attention.
Then his gaze drifted…
back to the window…
back to the ceiling…
and finally back to Elara.
History continued.
Alice's focus did not.
The class finally ended.
Alice stretched like he had just survived a war.
"Freedom," he muttered.
The class finally ended, and the canteen felt louder than usual.
The five of them sat together at a long table near the windows, sunlight spilling over their lunch trays. For a moment, everything felt normal.
Until Alice arrived.
With two lunch boxes, a packet of snacks, and a juice bottle.
Everyone stared.
Victor paused mid-bite.
"…Are you feeding yourself or the entire campus?"
Alice placed everything down calmly.
"Mind your business."
Lucien leaned closer, eyeing the food.
"You eat all this and still have abs. I demand answers."
Alice shrugged.
"Talent."
Noah sighed dramatically.
"We eat one extra spoon and gain emotional damage."
Alice nodded seriously.
"That's tragic."
Elara was quiet, eating slowly, focused on her thoughts.
Then—
A shadow fell over the table.
A girl stopped beside Elara.
It was Greta Weiss.
The same girl who had mocked Elara on the first day.
Greta held a glass of juice in her hand.
"Oh—Elara," Greta said sweetly.
"Didn't see you there."
Before anyone could react—
The juice slipped.
Straight onto Elara's dress.
The table went silent.
Greta gasped.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry. That was totally an accident."
Elara looked down at her dress, then back up.
"It's okay," she said calmly.
"Accidents happen."
Greta smiled.
But it wasn't an apologetic smile.
It was sharp. Calculated.
"Well," Greta added, tilting her head,
"Hopefully this doesn't ruin your big feminism speech today.
Wouldn't want people distracted by… stains."
Noah slowly put her spoon down.
She stood up.
Very calmly.
"Wow," Noah said, smiling.
"You spilled juice and still found the confidence to speak nonsense. Impressive."
Greta frowned.
"Excuse me?"
Noah crossed her arms.
"Let me guess—accidentally spilling juice, accidentally insulting someone, accidentally being rude?"
Greta scoffed.
"Relax. It's just juice."
Noah laughed lightly.
"No, Greta Weiss. It's just your personality."
Lucien almost choked on his food.
Greta's eyes narrowed.
"You should watch how you talk."
Noah stepped closer.
"Oh, I am.
And you should watch how fake your 'sorry' sounded."
Greta snapped,
"I apologized!"
Noah nodded.
"Yes. With a smile that screamed 'I meant it.'"
Alice stood up.
Slowly.
The table went quiet.
"Enough," he said, voice calm but cold.
"You spilled juice on her. You made a comment.
Now walk away."
Greta looked at him, surprised.
"And who are you supposed to be?"
Alice smiled slightly.
"Someone who doesn't tolerate cheap behavior."
Lucien leaned back, enjoying the show.
"She asked for it."
Greta scoffed again.
"You all think you're heroes now?"
Victor finally spoke, quietly but firmly.
"No.
We just don't like bullies who hide behind fake smiles."
Greta's face flushed.
She grabbed her bag.
"This is ridiculous."
She turned to leave, then added bitterly,
"Good luck with your speech, Elara."
Elara met her gaze calmly.
"I won't need luck."
Greta walked away, heels clicking angrily against the floor.
Silence.
Then Lucien clapped once.
"Best lunch entertainment ever."
Noah sat back down and nudged Elara.
"Bestie protection. Always."
Alice slid his juice bottle toward Elara.
"Take this. You'll need it more than I do."
Elara smiled softly.
"…Thank you."
Victor glanced at her stained dress.
"You'll still crush the speech."
Lucien smirked.
"With or without juice stains."
Elara looked at all of them.
And for the first time, she realized—
She wasn't standing alone anymore.