Chapter 8: Punished

LIBAN NATIONAL HIGH SCHOOL, DAYS LATER…

She had been mentally counting each second, wishing time would move faster. Ever since the shooting incident in Ormon City, a restless energy had gripped her, refusing to let go. It had been two days without any sign of Yolo—or Yuan, as he was really called.

'What if he's dead? What if the Alphas couldn't protect him?' The questions clawed at her thoughts. 'Maybe Papa knows something. Should I call him?'

"Miss Steffy Rivera!"

The sharp voice of her teacher snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts.

"Yes, ma'am?" she replied, blinking back to reality.

"I've been calling your name for a while now. Are you even paying attention to the discussion?"

Steffy could feel the weight of her teacher's irritation. But instead of embarrassment, a new resolve filled her. She wouldn't sit here any longer while uncertainty gnawed at her. She had to find Yuan.

"I'm sorry, ma'am Amparo," she said, standing abruptly and gathering her things. "But I need to go."

The entire class stared at her, stunned by her sudden actions.

"Excuse me? You can't just walk out in the middle of class!" Mrs. Amparo barked, her voice rising with fury. "This is highly disrespectful—"

"I'll just inform the principal myself," Steffy cut in apologetically, already heading for the door.

"You'll regret this rudeness!" the teacher shouted after her, but Steffy was already gone, her heart pounding.

'I'll deal with the fallout later,' she thought, weaving through the school hallways.

She scanned every classroom she passed, her frustration mounting. Yuan's cover story was that he was the principal's scholar, but she didn't even know what name he used or which section he was assigned.

"Damn it, Yuan! Where the hell are you?" she muttered, her steps quickening.

She checked the science lab, the clinic, and the outdoor basketball court—nothing. As she neared the far end of the school, her mind raced.

'Think. Where would he go?'

Then it hit her. "The rooftop!" she whispered. "Of course." 

She spun toward the old library—the only place with a staircase leading up. But as she hurried across the hall, a prickling sensation crept up her spine. Someone was following her. 

She slowed, her senses sharpening, and turned.

Teacher Greg.

His stern face was unreadable, but the unease settling in her gut told her something was off.

***

Steffy was ushered into the principal's office, where Mr. Seson sat behind his desk, exuding an unsettling mix of charm and authority. His round face held a smile, but his calculating eyes made her stomach twist.

Beside him, Mrs. Amparo sat rigid with fury, her anger practically crackling in the air. Near the window stood Teacher Greg—silent, unreadable—his presence as unnerving as ever.

Steffy sank onto the couch, feeling smaller under the weight of their piercing stares. Her mind raced, searching for a way out.

"Miss Rivera," Mr. Seson began, his tone kind but condescending. "Leaving a class like that is a grave offense at our school. You owe us an explanation."

Steffy took a breath, forcing herself to sound composed. "I needed a breather," she said carefully. "I wasn't trying to disrespect anyone, ma'am Amparo. But… I think your class could use a little more engagement. A lot of students actually feel restless. They just do not have the nerve to say it to your face."

"What?!" Mrs. Amparo exploded. "How dare you insult my methods, young lady?"

"I'm not trying to insult anyone," Steffy replied smoothly. "I'm just being honest. I'm sorry for walking out without permission."

The principal raised a hand, silencing Mrs. Amparo's protests. "You make a point, Miss Rivera," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Teachers need to adapt to modern students. But you're not off the hook. You'll be punished for disrupting class."

Steffy bristled but kept her face neutral.

"What do you suggest, Mr. Lopez?" Mr. Seson asked, turning to Teacher Greg.

Her adviser's unreadable gaze flicked to her. "I defer to Mrs. Amparo's judgment," he said, his lips curling ever so slightly.

Steffy clenched her fists. 'Damn you, Sir Greg.'

Later that afternoon, Steffy was still in the library, sorting books as punishment. The librarian had left, and the other teachers had gone to the flag retreat outside. She was alone—except for the suffocating silence. She sighed, glancing out the window at the dispersing students. Out of respect, she placed her hand over her heart and softly sang along with the echoes of the national anthem.

"…buhay ay langit sa piling mo, (life is like Heaven, at your side)

Aming ligaya na 'pag may mang-aapi, (Our joy, whenever there are oppressors)

Ang mamatay ng dahil sa'yo… (is to die because of you)"

The moment passed, and she turned back to the books. But just as she reached for another stack, Mrs. Amparo returned, her stern voice cutting through the quiet. "Aren't you finished yet? Let's wrap this up so we can both go home."

Before Steffy could snap, another voice interrupted.

"I'll take over from here," said Teacher Greg as he approached. "Your husband's waiting for you, ma'am."

Mrs. Amparo's frown immediately softened, and she chuckled in delight. "Thank you, Mr. Lopez. I'll leave her to you, then."

Steffy glared at the retreating teacher. "What a two-faced woman," Steffy muttered.

As soon as they were alone, Greg leaned casually against a shelf, his gaze fixed on her.

"I'm done now," Steffy muttered, stacking the last book. "Are you happy?"

"Not quite." His tone was maddeningly amused.

"This is exploitation. I still have rights," she snapped. "I'll report you."

Greg's smirk only grew. "Sure."

She crossed her arms, glowering. "What do you want from me?"

"To leave," he said, gesturing toward the door.

Her eyes narrowed. "Really?"

"Unless you'd rather stay the night. I heard ghosts linger in this part of the school," he added, his smirk teasing.

"I'm not afraid of ghosts!" she shot back, brushing past him.

Greg followed, his footsteps light and unhurried. "Hey, wait up, kid."

"Stop following me, sir, or I'll report harassment," she hissed without looking back.

"Harassment?" he replied, chuckling.

He caught up to her, his hand brushing hers. The sudden touch of their skin sent an unexpected jolt through her. But before she could react, he led her to his motorcycle. "

"What now? Are you kidnapping me?"

His grip was firm yet warm, steadying her more than she cared to admit.

"Of course, not! I'm taking you out for a date."

"A d-date?"

Her heart fluttered unexpectedly, and she cursed herself for it. 'What the hell is happening to me?'