The black car stops just outside the towering gates of Higher Value International School. The marble sign gleams in the morning sun — “A Place for Future Leaders.”

Inside the car, Elfaria Albis Santos sits quietly, her school ID card hanging from a pale pink ribbon around her neck. She’s on a call with her manager, Bobby, whose voice booms through the speaker.

“Did you eat breakfast properly, Aria? And your new stationery—did you pack it? What about your ID—oh wait, you’re wearing it, good girl. Don’t forget to smile even if people act rude, okay?”

Elfaria sighs softly, adjusting her glasses.

“I’m not Aria today, Bobby. Just Elfaria Santos. Remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Just... don’t accidentally sign an autograph.”

She hangs up before he can say more and steps out of the car. The guards open the gate, bowing politely — they have no clue the quiet girl before them once performed at the National Theatre last month.

Inside, students in designer uniforms chatter in small clusters. Most of them are children of CEOs, politicians, and movie producers. Elfaria glances around, clutching her file.

“Excuse me, where is the admission desk?”

The receptionist smiles mechanically.

“New transfer? Form 10? You’ve been assigned to... Section E.”

A pause. A raised eyebrow.

“Use the back gate to enter the classroom.”

Elfaria blinks.

“Back gate?”

“Yes. The front stairs are for Sections A to D.”

Walking toward the back of the campus, the glamour of the school slowly fades. The marble floors turn to cracked tiles. The perfectly painted walls are replaced with peeling graffiti. Someone had scribbled “E \= End of hope” in red marker.

Elfaria’s neat shoes echo down the empty corridor.

“So this... is Section E,” she whispers.

The classroom door slides open roughly. The noise hits her like a wave — laughter, shouting, paper planes flying midair.

“Yo! New student?” a boy calls out from a broken desk.

“She looks like she came from Section A by mistake!” another girl giggles.

Elfaria bows politely, adjusting her glasses again.

“Good morning. I’m Elfaria Albis Santos. Please call me... Elfie.”

A teacher in a half-buttoned shirt strolls in, coffee in hand.

“Alright, everyone, quiet down! Mrs. Santos, right? You’re the transfer from the city branch?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies softly.

He nods toward an empty seat near the window.

“You can sit there. Don’t mind the chaos. You’ll get used to it.”

As she walks to her desk, whispers follow her.

“She’s too proper for Section E.”

“Look at that hair—two braids? Is she from the countryside or what?”

Elfaria sits down, smiling faintly. The sunlight filters through the dusty window, catching in her eyes for just a moment — the same light that once shone on her during a sold-out concert.

But here, no one knows.

Here, she’s just Elfie — another misfit in Section E.

Scene: Lunch Break — “Welcome to Section E”

The bell rings, echoing through the shabby corridors of Section E. The classroom explodes with noise — chairs scraping, boys shouting, paper flying. Elfaria quietly opens her lunchbox, carefully unwrapping the neat meal her aunt had packed.

Just as she’s about to take her first bite, a shadow falls across her desk.

A tall boy with messy brown hair and a sharp, lazy grin towers over her. His tie hangs loose, his sleeves rolled up. The room quiets a little as the others turn to watch.

“You. New girl,” he says, his tone low but cold. “Keifer Mark Watson. Remember the name.”

Elfaria blinks, confused.

“Alright,” she answers softly.

He leans closer, smirking.

“You don’t belong here. Section E isn’t for people like you — prim and proper types who look like they walked out of a brochure. So do yourself a favor and transfer out before you regret it.”

The class bursts into laughter, the sound echoing off the cracked walls.

Elfaria closes her lunchbox calmly, stands up, and looks him straight in the eye.

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Watson,” she says politely. “But my transfer isn’t your business.”

The laughter fades into surprised silence for a moment. Even Keifer looks taken aback before scoffing and walking away.

Without another word, Elfaria picks up her lunch and heads for the hallway — her quiet footsteps almost lost under the noise behind her.

The corridor is dim and cool. She finds a small corner near the window, where sunlight spills through the glass, dust dancing in the air. Sitting down, she opens her lunch again — but before she can take a bite, a hand darts out.

“Yoink!”

Her lunchbox is snatched away, and a group of boys run off laughing.

“Hey—!” she calls, but they’ve already disappeared around the corner.

She sighs, staring at the empty space where her food used to be. Before she can react further, a cheerful voice comes from behind.

A boy with soft brown eyes and a playful smile leans against the wall, hands in his pockets.

“Don’t bother chasing them,” he says. “I’m Felix. Welcome to Section E.”

“You all steal food here?” she asks, half amused, half tired.

He grins.

“We’re not allowed in the cafeteria. So yeah — the guys snatch whatever they see. Survival rule of Section E.”

Elfaria blinks, then quietly pulls out a small packet of crackers from her bag.

“Good thing I brought these, then.”

Before she can open it, Felix suddenly snatches it from her hand and runs backward down the hall, laughing.

“Told you!” he shouts over his shoulder. “Guys snatch food wherever they see it!”

Elfaria can’t help but let out a small, helpless laugh — the first real one that day.

“Unbelievable…” she murmurs, shaking her head.

For the first time since morning, the tension in her chest softens.

Even in this chaotic, cracked world of Section E — maybe, just maybe — she’ll find her place.

.

Still hungry, Elfaria decides she won’t let a few mischievous boys ruin her first day.

She dusts off her uniform, ties her braids neatly again, and walks toward the cafeteria — the one Felix said Section E wasn’t allowed in.

As she pushes the glass door open, the sound of clinking trays and chatter fills the air. Rows of students in crisp, ironed uniforms turn to glance at her — some whispering, some staring.

Elfaria hesitates for a second, then straightens her shoulders and walks to the counter.

“One lunch tray, please.”

The lady at the counter looks puzzled.

“You’re from Section E, aren’t you?”

Elfaria smiles politely.

“I’m from Higher Value International School, right?”

The woman chuckles quietly and hands her the tray. “You’ve got guts, kid.”

Elfaria finds a corner table and sits down, carefully opening her meal. She’s just about to eat when a soft, confident voice calls out.

“Mind if I sit here?”

A tall girl with shiny auburn hair and a calm, graceful aura stands before her, holding a tray. Her uniform badge reads Section C – President.

“I’m Rakki,” she says, smiling. “You’re the new transfer, right? Elfaria, from Section E?”

“Yes, that’s me. You can call me Elfie,” she replies gently.

Rakki sits down across from her, folding her hands neatly.

“You’re brave to eat here. Most from Section E wouldn’t dare.”

“Why?” Elfaria asks, curious.

Rakki sighs, stirring her drink.

“Section E… it’s where the school sends students they can’t expel — sons of businessmen, heirs of politicians, people the principal can’t touch. They cause trouble, skip classes, and fight a lot. The school pretends they don’t exist.”

She pauses, glancing around to make sure no one is listening.

“And the rest of the school? We stay away. Section E doesn’t like mingling either. They see everyone else as fake.”

Elfaria listens silently, her expression calm but thoughtful.

“So you’re saying I should transfer out?”

“If you can, yes,” Rakki says kindly. “You seem like a good girl. Section E will just drag you down. You don’t deserve that.”

Elfaria takes a quiet bite of her rice, eyes distant.

“Maybe,” she says softly, “but maybe it’s exactly where I’m meant to be.”

Rakki looks puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

Elfaria smiles faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

She doesn’t say the rest out loud, but it lingers in her mind:

“In Section E, no one will care who I am. No cameras, no fan meetings, no flashing lights. Just… peace.”

If I stay there, I won’t have to worry about anyone discovering I’m Aria.

For once, the idea of being invisible feels comforting.

Rakki studies her for a moment, then smiles knowingly.

“You’re an interesting one, Elfie. I hope Section E doesn’t eat you alive.”

Elfaria chuckles softly.

“I’ll take my chances.”

The bell rings again, signaling the end of lunch. As they both stand up, Rakki waves gently.

“See you around, Mrs. Santos.”

“See you, President Rakki.”

Elfaria walks back toward the old hallway of Section E, the sound of her shoes echoing against the empty floor.

Her lips curve into a small smile.

“A place full of troublemakers and chaos,” she murmurs, half amused. “Sounds like the perfect hiding place for an idol.”

The afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of Section E’s classroom, painting golden lines across the desks. The air is thick and heavy — part boredom, part mischief.

Elfaria sits near the window, quietly taking notes. Her handwriting is neat and rounded, a stark contrast to the messy scrawls on everyone else’s papers.

At the front of the room, Mrs. Lucero, the tired math teacher, drones on about equations.

“Alright, class,” she says, turning to write on the blackboard. “Let’s solve for—”

The moment her back turns, a soft whizz cuts through the air.

Thwack!

A paper ball lands squarely on Elfaria’s desk. Another one follows. Then another.

She freezes, eyes flicking up. The boys are slouched in their seats, pretending to look innocent, but their smirks give them away.

“Who threw that?” she asks quietly.

No one answers.

Mrs. Lucero turns around briefly, sees everyone sitting still, and continues writing.

Elfaria exhales softly and goes back to her notebook.

The instant the teacher’s back turns again — whizz, whizz! — two more paper balls fly, hitting her shoulder and hair.

A few boys snicker under their breath. One whispers,

“Told you she wouldn’t last a week.”

Elfaria straightens up, brushing the crumpled papers off her desk. Her expression doesn’t change — calm, composed, almost eerily so.

She lifts her hand as if to raise a complaint, but then pauses. Instead, she lowers it slowly and continues writing her notes, ignoring the laughter.

Mrs. Lucero turns again, puzzled.

“Why is the class so noisy?”

“Nothing, Ma’am,” the boys chorus in unison.

The teacher frowns, then resumes writing on the board.

This time, a paper ball hits Elfaria right in the cheek. The laughter grows louder — hidden behind fake coughs and chair squeaks.

She picks up the paper, unfolds it silently. Inside, messy handwriting reads:

Go back to your fancy world, Miss Perfect.

For a second, something flickers in her eyes — not anger, but quiet strength. She folds the paper neatly and tucks it into her notebook.

The class expects her to snap or cry. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she takes out a pencil, focuses on the equation, and whispers to herself,

“A test of patience... perfect.”

The bell rings at last. The boys jump from their seats, laughing and bumping shoulders as they rush out.

Elfaria stays seated, collecting the paper balls scattered on her desk. She throws them in the bin, straightens her books, and stands.

As she walks out, Felix watches her from the doorway, a half-eaten sandwich in hand.

“You didn’t tell the teacher?” he asks, genuinely curious.

Elfaria shakes her head with a calm smile.

“Why should I? They’ll get bored eventually.”

Felix grins.

“You’re different, Elfie. Most new kids cry by day one.”

She glances back at the classroom — at the broken desks, the graffiti, and the echo of cruel laughter.

“I’m not most kids,” she says quietly.

And with that, she walks down the hallway, her two braids swaying gently behind her — the only calm in the storm called Section E.

.

The next morning, Elfaria decides to walk to school. The air is cool and quiet, the street still glistening from the early drizzle. She hums softly under her breath, her braids swaying with every step, enjoying—for once—the normal feeling of being an ordinary student.

She’s just turning a corner near the convenience store when she hears shouting.

“You think you can mess with me?!”

A group of boys are fighting near the gate of an abandoned lot—fists flying, curses echoing. Startled, Elfaria grips her bag tighter and tries to pass quickly, lowering her gaze.

Just as she’s about to slip by, one of the boys breaks away from the scuffle and calls out—

“Hey! Elfie!”

She stops in her tracks, blinking in surprise.

The boy wipes a streak of blood from his lip and grins.

“It’s me—Ci-n! From Section E!”

Elfaria tilts her head, trying to remember.

He’s tall but lean, with tousled hair, sharp eyes, and a bandage on his wrist. The others back off, muttering as he waves them away casually.

“You were fighting... this early in the morning?” she says softly, frowning.

“They started it,” he shrugs. “Anyway, name’s Cinco Neith Peralta—‘Ci-n’ for short.”

He flashes a lopsided grin. “I sit two rows behind you.”

Elfaria nods, remembering the boy who’d been half-asleep during class yesterday.

“You should be careful. That looked serious.”

“Don’t worry,” he laughs. “That’s just morning exercise for Section E kids.”

Elfaria shakes her head, amused despite herself.

“Can I ask you something, Ci-n?”

“Shoot.”

“Why isn’t Section E allowed in the cafeteria?”

Ci-n smirks.

“You really wanna know?”

“Yes.”

He leans closer, lowering his voice playfully.

“Then bring me lunch tomorrow.”

Elfaria blinks.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he grins. “I’ll spill the story only if you bring me lunch. Fair trade, right?”

She sighs but smiles a little.

“Fine. I’ll bring you lunch. Now tell me.”

Ci-n stretches his arms, walking beside her as they continue toward the school.

“Okay, okay. So… it started with a girl—Ella. She was from Section E, used to date Keifer. They were like the ‘power couple’ of our section—always fighting, always making up.”

He kicks a pebble along the road.

“Then one day, Ella gets transferred to Section A. Everyone thought she’d dump Keifer, and… well, she kinda did. Started pretending she didn’t even know him.”

Elfaria listens silently, her steps slowing.

“That must’ve hurt,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, and it got worse. A week later, Keifer caught her in the cafeteria—kissing Aries Fernandez. You know, the golden boy from Section A?”

Elfaria stops walking.

“Aries... Fernandez?” she repeats faintly.

Ci-n nods.

“Yup. Keifer lost it. Tables flipped, trays flew, food everywhere. Whole cafeteria looked like a war zone. After that, the principal banned all of Section E from eating there. Said we were ‘disruptive influences.’”

He laughs bitterly.

“So yeah. That’s why we steal food now. It’s kind of… tradition.”

Elfaria doesn’t respond. Her mind is spinning.

Aries Fernandez.

Her friend.

The one she’s currently living with at the Fernandez household because of her studies.

The son of the man who runs FER Corporation, the very company that made her the ambassador for their new digital devices.

And now… the current bf of Keifer’s ex.

Ci-n glances at her, noticing her dazed expression.

“Hey, you okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Elfaria blinks, forcing a small smile.

“No, I’m fine. Just… processing.”

They reach the school gates. The golden letters of Higher Value International School gleam in the morning sun.

“Anyway,” Ci-n says, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “see you in class, Elfie. Don’t forget my lunch tomorrow!”

He jogs off toward the back building, leaving her standing there in quiet disbelief.

Elfaria touches her ID card absentmindedly, her heart thudding.

Aries… Keifer… Ella… all connected to Section E.

She exhales slowly, composing herself before walking through the gate.

“Looks like this school is smaller than I thought,” she murmurs under her breath.

But deep inside, she knows —

this just got a lot more complicated.

Scene: Second Period — “The Warning”

The second period bell rings.

The air inside Section E feels lazy — half the students are asleep, the other half playing on their phones or throwing notes across the room.

Elfaria sits quietly at her desk, flipping through her notebook. She still can’t shake off what Ci-n told her that morning. Every time she sees Kiefer across the room — leaning back in his chair, joking with his friends — she feels a strange twist in her stomach.

He has no idea I know about Ella… or Aries.

A few minutes later, the door slides open.

One of the boys pops his head in.

“Ma’am’s not coming today! Teacher’s absent!”

The class erupts into cheers. Some whistle, others immediately stand on their desks.

Elfaria keeps writing, pretending not to hear.

She’s halfway through solving an equation when she feels someone’s gaze burning into her.

Kiefer.

He pushes back his chair and stands, strolling toward her desk with that same lazy confidence he’d had on her first day.

The chatter dies down bit by bit, as if everyone senses something is about to happen.

He stops right beside her desk.

“Still here, huh?” he says with a smirk. “Guess my advice didn’t reach your ears the first time.”

Elfaria doesn’t look up.

“You mean your threat, Mr. Watson?” she replies calmly, her tone soft but firm.

A few boys snicker. Kiefer’s smirk tightens.

He leans closer, his shadow falling across her desk.

“You think you’re brave, huh? Sitting here, acting all calm like you’re better than us.”

Elfaria closes her notebook, finally meeting his eyes.

“I never said I was better.”

“Then why don’t you listen?” he snaps quietly, his voice low enough for only her to hear. “You’re going to regret not following what I told you. Section E isn’t a place for saints.”

Elfaria studies his face — the faint scar near his eyebrow, the hint of anger buried under his smirk. For a second, she sees not a bully, but someone carrying too much pride and pain.

“Maybe I’ll regret it,” she says softly, “or maybe you’ll see I’m not someone who runs away that easily.”

A hush falls over the class.

Even the boys stop laughing for a moment.

Kiefer stares at her, as if unsure whether to laugh or be impressed. Then he scoffs, tapping her desk with his finger.

“You’ll regret those words, santos.”

He turns and walks back to his seat, laughter from his friends following behind him.

Elfaria exhales quietly, steadying her heartbeat. She opens her notebook again, pretending to focus on her writing — but her mind is already racing.

So this is how he deals with people… through threats and power.

She glances out the window where sunlight filters through the blinds.

Fine then, Kiefer Mark Watson. Let’s see who regrets what.

And though no one notices it, a faint, determined smile flickers on her lips.

The lunch bell rang through the corridors, echoing down the long hallway toward Section E — the section that most students avoided.

Elfaria quietly unpacked her lunch, settling down at her desk. The class was its usual mix of noise and chaos, but she’d learned to tune it out. She had just opened her lunch box when familiar voices came closer.

“Yo, Elfie! What’s for lunch today?”

Felix and Ci-n plopped down in front of her desk, grinning like they owned the place. Before she could even answer, Felix reached out and snatched her lunch box.

“Hey! That’s mine!” she said, half-standing.

Ci-n laughed and pulled at it from Felix’s other hand.

“Give it here, man! You already took her lunch yesterday!”

“Finders keepers!” Felix shot back, tugging harder.

The two of them started bickering, waving the lunch box like a trophy, while the rest of the boys in class burst out laughing.

Elfaria sighed softly, then pulled another box out of her bag.

“I actually bought a few extra lunches,” she said calmly.

The entire class froze for a second, surprised. A few more boys turned toward her, curious — their laughter fading into murmurs.

“Wait, seriously?” one of them said.

Elfaria nodded and smiled a little. “Here. I thought you might be hungry.”

Soon, several boys came over, and she started handing out the extra boxes one by one.

Felix blinked in disbelief, holding his box mid-air.

“Uh… thanks, Elfie.”

Elfaria smiled.

“You know,” she said, “you all should try requesting the school board for cafeteria permission again. Politely this time.”

Felix scratched his head, about to say something, when a sudden stir swept through the room.

The door slid open — and in walked a tall boy with red hair, glasses, and a sharp expression. He carried several bags full of food, the smell of freshly made Japanese lunch filling the air.

The boys immediately brightened up.

“Yuri!” they shouted in unison, rushing toward him.

He smirked slightly and handed his bags to them. “Don’t drop them this time,” he said flatly, before his eyes landed on Elfaria.

He walked straight past the crowd, stopping right in front of her desk. His gaze was sharp, almost annoyed.

Then he scoffed, turning slightly toward Felix.

“Who is she?”

Felix hesitated.

“Uh… she’s the new transfer student. Elfaria Albis Santos.”

Yuri’s brows furrowed.

“How is she still here? Hasn’t Kiefer done anything to get rid of her?”

Felix shrugged. “Guess not yet.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed, and he turned back to Elfaria, his tone colder now.

“Who are you—and why are you treating my classmates like dogs?”

Elfaria blinked, startled. “I—I wasn’t— I just thought—”

But Yuri cut her off with another scoff and turned away sharply, walking toward Kiefer, who was leaning at the back of the room with his usual smirk.

Felix sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

“That’s Yuri Hanamichi,” he said quietly. “He was suspended for going into the cafeteria a few days ago.”

“I see...,” she murmured.

And as she looked around the noisy, chaotic classroom filled with rude laughter and strange friendships, she couldn’t help but think — this section really is different.

The lunch break was nearly over. The laughter had faded into casual chatter as most of the boys finished their food.

Elfaria quietly packed up her empty boxes, while in the corner, Kiefer leaned back in his chair — tall, broad-shouldered, and with that dangerous calmness that made the rest of the class stay quiet when he spoke.

Yuri walked over, pushing his glasses up with a finger. His red hair caught the dull classroom light as he dropped into the seat next to Kiefer’s desk.

“Yo,” Kiefer greeted lazily, “how’s your grandfather?”

Yuri gave a faint, bitter smirk.

“That old man’s the same as ever — changing and worrying about family, but never enough about me.”

Kiefer chuckled lowly.

“You still fighting over that, huh?”

Yuri leaned forward, resting his elbow on the desk.

“You could say that. Anyway…” — he tilted his head slightly — “that new girl. Elfaria, was it?”

The mention of her name made Kiefer’s smirk vanish. His jaw tightened as his eyes darkened.

“Yeah. That one,” he said, his tone sharp now. “I want her out of this section at any cost. I don’t care if she drops out or transfers — she’s leaving Section E.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow.

“She looks like a soft girl. Is it really that hard to get her out?”

Kiefer’s gaze flicked toward Elfaria, who was still quietly cleaning up her desk, unaware of the stares aimed her way.

“You’d think so,” he muttered. “But she’s different. A bit tougher than the others. Doesn’t flinch easily. We’ll have to go hardcore on this one.”

A slow smirk returned to his lips, the kind that promised trouble.

Yuri crossed his arms.

“Hardcore, huh? You sure that’s a good idea?”

Kiefer leaned back again, eyes narrowing in thought.

“You remember what happened last time we let a girl stay in our section?”

Yuri went silent for a moment — his expression stiffened, then his smirk faded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, “I remember.”

The room buzzed faintly with the after-lunch noise, but their corner felt colder.

Finally, Yuri exhaled through his nose and gave a short nod.

“Alright then. If that’s how it is… I’m in.”

Kiefer’s smirk deepened. He patted Yuri’s shoulder and muttered,

“Good. Let’s make sure she regrets walking into Section E.”