Chapter 2: Transfere

The school gates were as grand as ever, a looming reminder of everything I was expected to live up to. The whispers followed me as I walked through the halls. They always did.

"That's Shina Altair, isn't it?"

"Her parents are filthy rich. I heard they're abroad all the time."

"Must be nice I envy her."

Envy?. If only they knew.

I ignored them, as I always did, and slipped into class. My usual spot by the window was waiting, sunlight pouring in to bathe the desk in warmth. It was the only place I could fade into the background.

The bell rang, and the teacher walked in, her presence commanding the room. "Before we begin, I have an announcement," she said, her tone clipped. "We have a new student joining us today."

I didn't think much of it. Transfers were rare, sure, but they happened. The teacher gestured toward the door.

"You can come in now."

The door opened, and in walked someone I never expected to see again.

It was him.

The strange man from last night the one who'd disrupted my thoughts, who I thought I'd never have to deal with again.

He strode into the room with that same lazy confidence, his black sweater and jeans out of place among the neatly pressed uniforms. His dark, messy hair caught the sunlight as he turned to face the class, his hands shoved casually into his pockets.

"This is Ken," the teacher said. "He'll be joining us from today onward. Please make him feel welcome."

Ken.

So that was his name.

He scanned the room briefly before his gaze landed on me. For a split second, I thought I saw recognition flash in his eyes, but he said nothing. He didn't even smirk.

"You can sit over there," the teacher said, pointing to the empty desk beside mine.

Of course. Because the universe just loved testing my patience.

Ken nodded and made his way over, sitting down without so much as a glance in my direction.

---

The morning dragged on. I tried to focus on the lessons, but every now and then, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye—Ken tapping his pen against the desk, leaning back in his chair, his expression calm but unreadable.

When lunchtime finally rolled around, I bolted from the classroom, desperate for some distance. My usual spot under the cherry blossom tree offered its usual peace, and I opened my book, trying to escape into its pages.

But the peace didn't last long.

"Nice spot."

His voice made my stomach twist. I didn't look up. "What do you want?"

"Relax," he said, sitting down uninvited. "I'm just here for the view."

I glanced at him, narrowing my eyes. "Then find another one. This spot's taken."

He grinned, leaning back against the tree. "You don't own it."

I snapped my book shut, glaring at him. "Do you always ignore people's boundaries?"

"Only when they're interesting."

"And what makes you think I'm interesting?"

He shrugged, his tone light. "You've got that whole 'don't talk to me' vibe down, but you're sitting in the most obvious spot in the courtyard. Kinda contradictory, don't you think?"

I didn't reply, biting the inside of my cheek. Something about him was frustrating his calmness, his audacity, or maybe the way he seemed to see right through me.

"Anyway," he said, standing up and brushing off his jeans, "don't let me ruin your lunch."

I watched him walk away, blending into the crowd like he'd done last night. My chest felt tight, like I'd been holding my breath the whole time.

Ken.

His name lingered in my mind as I sat there, clutching my book and wondering what storm he was about to bring into my life.