Chapter 1: Fresh Flowers
The cold, defeated light of late autumn filtered through the speckled classroom windows, draping the sleeping boy at his desk in a translucent veil. It illuminated his slender, refined features with a sickly pallor.
The scratching of pen tips against paper filled the classroom. The faint whispers mixed among them suddenly fell silent.
A nudge against his elbow jolted him awake. Julian Hayes lifted his head, eyes still hazy with sleep, and looked questioningly at his desk mate.
Vincet Torres shot him a quick look and nodded toward the window.
Julian turned. Their homeroom teacher stood outside with her stern, old-fashioned expression, cold eyes scanning the room. Thankfully, Vincet's warning had come in time—the harsh gaze didn't land on him.
Julian snapped fully awake, all drowsiness gone. He straightened, picked up his pen, and began pretending to work.
After half a minute, Vincet glanced at the window again. The intimidating face had vanished. He leaned over and whispered, "Didn't sleep well? Another late shift?"
"Yeah. Haven't saved much this month. Skip the night shifts and I won't be able to afford food next month."
"Man, you don't have to live like that. I can lend you some cash."
"No need. It's just a couple extra shifts."
Julian always refused pity and rejected handouts born from sympathy. No matter how bad things got, that stubborn pride refused to bend—an exact mirror of the girl from the next class.
No longer sleepy, he finished the last of his incomplete homework. The dismissal bell rang right on time.
The long quiet shattered. The classroom erupted into chaos as students rushed to pack their bags and crowd out the door.
Julian was the last to leave besides the cleaning crew. The moment he stepped out, he saw the girl waiting by the door with her bag, her signature gentle smile natural and even-handed toward everyone.
She was Riverside High School's undisputed beauty and one of Julian's few friends. They worked part-time together at the Fast Feast Diner and often walked home after school.
Coming from similar tough family situations and sharing the same refusal to bow their heads, Julian saw himself reflected in Margaret Monroe. That resilient spirit seemed cast from the same mold.
But their similarities ended there. A face stunning enough to eclipse every other girl in school, grades impressive enough to catch every teacher's eye, and a perfectly measured warmth toward everyone placed Margaret at the top. She drew attention wherever she went.
"Let's go. We need to hurry," Margaret said, her voice clear and refreshing like mist through the trees, quietly seeping into the heart. "The boss mentioned he has something this weekend and the diner will be closed for two days."
"Closed? That works out. I need to stop by the cemetery to visit my mom," Julian replied casually. No sorrow colored his words. It seemed he had already stepped out from the shadow or at least grown used to it.
"Mind if I join you? I'd like to visit your mom too."
"Sure."
Julian stole a glance at the girl beside him. The plain school uniform couldn't hide her beauty. Even without makeup, she was the loveliest bloom in any garden, quietly tugging at heartstrings. He was no exception.
As they walked side by side, a faint clean fragrance swirled at the tip of his nose, easing his tired nerves.
It was Margaret's signature scent, just like her soft, elegant smile.
Julian was accustomed to it. His expression stayed calm as he maintained the perfect distance, appearing relaxed and natural with no trace of awkwardness from walking with the school beauty.
The school air was cold and dry. Old trees stood bare, and the concrete path was covered in withered yellow leaves that the bleak autumn wind swirled up and down, offering no hint of life.
They lagged behind the main crowd. The noisy groups had already scattered beyond the gates.
Few people remained nearby. The occasional students who passed by saw them and thought nothing of it. No awkward misunderstandings arose.
An ordinary boy from a struggling background didn't have what it took to win the school beauty's affection. Their shared walk was their only school interaction, and with both denying any rumors, the gossip had long died down.
In the final stretch before the gate, beneath an old oak tree, Julian spotted a boy holding a bouquet of flowers. He wasn't wearing the school uniform and had styled his hair carefully. It was clear he had prepared for a confession.
Julian slowed down, falling behind Margaret to create distance.
Standing beside her during something like this would be too awkward.
The boy was handsome, about Julian's height. His outfit suggested a better-off family, and his bright, sunny energy stood in sharp contrast to Julian's more worn appearance.
"M-Margaret," the boy stammered, extending the bouquet while pulling a small glass jar from his pocket filled with colorful paper stars. "I've been paying attention to you for a long time. This… inside are all the things I wanted to say to you…"
He tried to stay composed, but his face flushed deep red. It was obviously his first confession, aimed at the hardest possible person.
Julian's heartbeat remained steady. He stood quietly behind them. He had seen this scene three or four times before. The outcome was always identical.
Margaret's face stayed calm. She didn't accept the flowers. With polite detachment, she said, "I'm sorry. Thank you for your feelings, but I'm not interested in that right now."
She turned and walked away quickly, her rejection decisive and almost cruel.
The boy's hand dropped. He lowered his head, disappointment clear on his face.
Margaret glanced back at Julian, her eyes signaling him to catch up. She treated the whole incident as if it had never happened.
Julian quickened his pace, brushing past the boy with an indifferent glance. It had nothing to do with him, and he felt no interest in the minor drama.
"You've got quite a few admirers," Julian said in a joking tone. "Even guys from other classes."
"It's always the same. They fixate on this face and rush into confessions without knowing anything real about me. Pure wishful thinking."
"That's harsh but realistic. Still, being that good-looking is its own skill. It makes people like you more."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Margaret slowed her steps, falling half a pace behind him. In a tone that started playful but carried a sudden chill, she asked, "So do you like it?"
The sudden question made Julian's heart pound violently. An inexplicable unease rose up, as if a cold blade rested against his neck, leaving him momentarily lost.
Even though it was clearly not serious.
He forced himself to stay calm and kept walking forward, words hesitating on his tongue.
"When it comes to looks, of course I like beautiful things. Everyone appreciates beauty."
"Then you like it too~" Margaret smiled, turning to look at him. The curve of her lips was soft and beautiful.
Julian replied lightly, "Yeah, I do like good-looking people. But I wouldn't like someone solely because of their appearance."
This ambiguous answer seemed to satisfy her, or at least she didn't press further. Silence spread between them like growing spores.
Margaret had fallen half a pace behind him. Though he didn't turn around, Julian could feel the weight of her gaze tracing the slender line of his neck and the ink-black hair that rested there…