Smoke and Mirrors

"Victor! Where have you gone?" A woman's voice rang through the grand hall, sharp with frustration as she frantically searched for a boy.

Unknowingly, Victor hid under the table–full of food and pastries for their guests. The white tablecloth made it hard for Victor to be seen. 

Then the darkness surrounding Victor brightened up, causing him to look over with wide eyes. 

"Victor! Get out from under there. People are starting to arrive," his mother spoke firmly. 

Victor obeyed his mother and slowly emerged from under the table. He stood up, his face flushed with embarrassment, unwilling to meet his mother's gaze. 

"Look at me when I speak to you," she snapped, her cold gaze, disappointed. "You should be greeting the guests. This is an important event for the family. You're making a fool of us." 

He nodded quietly, his throat tight with the weight of her words. He had no choice. He had never had a choice. 

The party was loud, filled with clinking glasses and the hum of conversation. Victor stood off to the side, feeling detached from it all. His parents had always emphasized that perfection was the only acceptable standard. 

But that evening, amidst all the foreign faces and fake smiles, Victor noticed a child standing alone, nervously eyeing the extravagant display of wealth around him. Unlike the other children running around playing games and laughing, the boy stood apart, his dark eyes wide with uncertainty. 

Victor hesitated for a moment, then approached him. 

"Why aren't you playing?" he asked, his voice unusually quiet for a child his age—almost too polite. 

The boy blinked, unsure of how to respond. He was unfamiliar with the grandiosity of the event. 

"I don't know anyone," he mumbled, shifting his gaze to his shoes.

 "Don't worry," Victor said, offering a small smile "Just pretend to have fun. People like it when you pretend." 

The boy's gaze flickered with uncertainty but nodded silently. Before long, they were both swept up in the larger crowd of children. 

—

The sharp chime of the final bell echoed through the grand halls, signaling the end of another school day.

I exhaled quietly, closing my textbook as students around me packed their bags. The air buzzed with quiet conversations, the soft rustle of expensive leather satchels and crisp uniforms filling the room. 

Baekwoon Acadedmy was a place of order, legacy, and prestige. Every inch of the school reflected that. 

The red-brick exterior stood tall, its arched windows giving it the appearance of a historical landmark rather than just a high school. The grand iron gates at the entrance bore the academy's crest and an elegant blend of calligraphy and gold filigree. Inside, the hallways stretched wide, lined with dark lockers. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft, golden glow over the marble floors, reflecting the quiet footsteps of students. 

Even the students themselves fit the aesthetic. The boys wore tailored blazers, white shirts, sleek ties, and polished shoes, while the girls' uniform consisted of skirts that fell just above their knee, paired with knee-high socks. 

"Victor, heading to the library again?" 

I glanced up as Min-Jae, one of my classmates, slung his bag over his shoulder, his tone lighthearted. 

I offered a polite smile. "You know me. There's always more to study." Seo-Yeon, another classmate, chimed in, flipping her sleek hair over her shoulder. "How much more do you need?" 

A few students chuckled; the mood was light and easy. Even though I wasn't the loudest, people naturally gravitated towards me. It was part of the image I upheld, polite composed, reliable. Someone they could admire, but not necessarily get too close to. 

"Perfection never rests," I said with an easy shrug, earning a few nods of agreement before excusing myself from the conversation.

As I entered the hallway, I passed by familiar faces, polite nods, quiet greetings, and a few lingering glances. I always made sure to acknowledge people. Never cold, never distant, just enough to maintain my reputation. 

The hallway stretched long, illuminated by the sunlight filtering through the massive arched windows. Outside, the courtyard was lined with cherry blossom trees and neatly trimmed hedges. The breeze carried the scent of spring, rustling through the tailored uniforms of students as they exited the building in a composed, orderly fashion. 

I pulled out my phone, quickly typing out a message. 

Victor: Going to the library to study. I'll be home after. 

The message was simple. Believable. My parents wouldn't question it. Academics were always an acceptable excuse.

Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I turned away from the main entrance, slipping into the quieter side streets. 

—

The familiar scent of fresh flowers and damp soil greeted me as I stepped into the shop, the soft jingle of the doorbell signaling my arrival. Sunlight filtered through the large front window, casting a warm glow over rows of carefully arranged bouquets and potted plants. 

I pulled my apron over my head, trying to push the weight of it off my shoulders. The flower shop was supposed to be my escape. Here, I wasn't Victor Castillo, heir to a legacy. I was just another worker, hands deep in the soil and stems. 

"Victor, the flowers need arranging," Mrs. Yoon called from the front, pulling me out of my thoughts. 

"On it," I said, rolling up my sleeves.

From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of movement outside. A guy stood just beyond the window, leaning lazily against the brick wall, cigarette in hand. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke into the cold air. 

I narrowed my eyes. 

Seriously? Right outside a flower shop?

I hesitated before wiping my hands on my apron and pushing open the door. The bell above it jingled softly. 

"Excuse me," I said, keeping my voice firm but polite. "You can't smoke here." 

The guy didn't even glance my way. He took another drag and exhaled like I was part of the background noise. 

I stepped forward, crossing my arms. "It's a non-smoking area." 

Nothing. Just another slow inhale, another puff of smoke clouding the air between us. 

My patience thinned. People like him, reckless, inconsiderate, never listened. But I wasn't about to let someone like that ruin the shop's atmosphere. 

I stepped closer. "I'm serious. You can't just stand here treating this place like some random street corner." 

Finally, he turned his head. Dark eyes met mine, cool and unreadable. He studied me, dragging out the silence before responding. 

"And?" 

My eyebrows twitched. "And you need to stop." 

For a moment, I thought he might actually listen. He took another slow drag, his gaze flickering over me like he was sizing me up, deciding if I was even worth a response. Then, without breaking eye contact, he exhaled, blowing a thick cloud of smoke directly into my face. 

With one last flick of his wrist, he dropped the cigarette and ground it into the pavement with the toe of his shoe. 

I froze. The warm, bitter scent of tobacco curled around me, and my jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. 

"Happy now?" he asked, voice laced with amusement.

I coughed, waving the smoke away, and glaring at him. "Are you serious?" 

He smirked, letting out a giggle before turning away like I wasn't even worth another second of his time. 

I stood there, frozen. 

I wasn't used to being ignored. I wasn't used to people looking at me like I was the insignificant one. 

The shop bell jingled softly behind me as I stepped back inside. I grabbed a bucket, filling it to the brim. 

I needed to let it go. 

But the scent of smoke still lingered in my hair, in my clothes. 

The shop was quiet again, save for the occasional soft jingle of the door when a customer walked in. I kept myself busy, arranging flowers, wiping down shelves, and checking the inventory. Anything to distract me. 

By the time my shift ended, the irritation had mostly faded. 

I slipped out the back, jogging toward the Baekwoon Academt library just a few blocks away. The air was cooler now, the evening breeze crisp against my skin. My blazer flapped slightly with each step, my shoes tapping against the pavement. 

As I neared the library, a black car pulled up.

The butler stepped out, bowing slightly. "Good evening, sir."

I nodded, smoothing down my uniform as I slid into the backseat. The interior was silent, a stark contrast to the warmth of the flower shop. 

I stared out the window as the city lights blurred past, glowing against the dark like distant stars. 

The ride home was quiet. 

By the time we arrived, the estate was already alive with maids moving through the halls, soft murmurs of dinner preparations echoing through the massive marble-floored entrance. 

I ignored it all, heading straight to my room.

As soon as the door shut behind me, I threw myself onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

My mind immediately wandered back to the guy from earlier. 

I was supposed to forget about him, to shake off the annoyance, but it kept coming back, like some annoying fly I couldn't swat away.

Why did it bother me so much?

I never let people get to me. 

He wasn't like anyone I'd ever met. He didn't care about appearances, didn't seem to care about anything. Maybe that was what annoyed me the most. 

I rolled over onto my side, staring at the blank wall. I tried to push the thoughts out of my head, but they just kept swirling around. 

His face, the way he shrugged me off, the smirk on his lips like I was nothing. 

"Get it together," I muttered under my breath, closing my eyes. 

He's nothing. It doesn't matter.

I sighed, turning off the light and pulling the covers over myself. Maybe tomorrow will be different. 

But as sleep started to pull me under, his face lingered in the back of my mind. 

What the hell..