Chapter 3: The app and the class introduction
As Cain stepped out of the bathroom, he checked the room number on his phone. His assigned room was 205. While looking at the screen, he noticed something else—the school Wi-Fi had automatically connected, and the signal was incredibly strong.
His face brightened.
I can finally download the new webtoon chapter… he thought, already tapping on the screen.
But then he paused.
Instead of opening the webtoon app, he remembered the app the boys in the bathroom mentioned earlier. He opened the download store and typed:
Masked Dating App
"There it is," he said quietly.
The icon showed a plain white mask, blank and simple. He pressed Download, then locked his phone and headed toward the academic building. His first class was about to start.
I'll open it later when I get home, he thought as he walked.
The hallways were crowded with confused first-year students. The room numbers weren't arranged in any logical order, and everyone seemed lost.
"I can't find my room…"
"Class is about to start!"
"Why didn't they put the next number beside the previous one!?"
"Let's bury whoever arranged these rooms!"
Cain rubbed his forehead.
"This is troublesome…" he muttered as he continued searching.
After several minutes, he finally spotted it.
"Room 205… finally."
But something immediately bothered him. The number on the door wasn't the same as the others. The plate was gold, polished, and stood out from every normal room on the floor.
"Why is this number gold…? I have a very bad feeling about this."
He pushed the door open slowly.
Inside, the atmosphere felt completely different from the chaotic hallway. The students inside looked like supermodels—well-groomed, tall, stylish, and clearly from wealthy families. Their uniforms looked tailored, their bags brands he couldn't even pronounce.
Worse, the one person he had been desperately trying to avoid was also there, Eliza sefinna Denise.
His stomach dropped.
He glanced around for a seat, but there was only one left… and it was right beside her.
"Fuck… my school life is over," he whispered under his breath.
He walked forward carefully, head lowered, holding his breath as if even the air around her might set her off. He slipped into the empty seat beside her, trying not to make a sound, hoping she wouldn't notice him.
Then, when Cain finally sat down, Aliza slowly turned her head toward him. Her eyes moved from his watch to his cheap shoes, examining him like he was something that didn't belong in the room. She let out a quiet sigh before speaking.
"Hey… you," she said, as she crossed her gloved hands, lifting her chin with that spoiled, superior confidence. "Peasant. Yes, you. What family are you from? Tell me properly. I need to know which household allowed someone like you to sit this close to me. Surely you must belong to some minor branch family, or some forgotten provincial line, right?"
Cain held back his irritation and kept his tone steady. He tried to sit straight and look as calm as possible.
"I'm not from any wealthy family," he answered. "I'm poor."
Aliza blinked once, slowly, as if she had just heard something unbelievable. Then she leaned back slightly, her expression turning even colder. She reached into her expensive handbag and took out a slim glass perfume bottle and a decorated folding fan. She opened the fan with a flick and covered the lower half of her face.
"Oh… poor," she repeated, dragging the word. "You should have said that earlier. I would have kept more distance. Do you understand how unbelievable this is? This academy is for people born with class, status, and education. Not for strays who somehow slipped through the gates." She waved her fan slowly, as if the air around him was dirty. "Honestly, I can smell the cheapness already."
She tilted the perfume bottle and sprayed it toward him hitting his shoulder, his arm, and the air around him.
"Don't come near me. Don't speak to me. Don't even breathe too loudly in my direction," she continued, her tone dripping with superiority. "I do not associate with the lower class. I do not entertain conversations with someone who cannot even name their lineage. From now on, make sure you keep a respectful distance from me. Is that understood, peasant?"
Cain stayed still. The perfume clung to his clothes, stinging his nose. He didn't answer. He knew any reaction would only cause more trouble, and he wasn't in a position to fight back. So he kept his eyes forward.
Then Cain heard the other students whispering and laughing quietly, some trying to hide it, others less discreet.
"Wow… that poor guy is literally sweating already."
"At least we're not the ones being bullied by Eliza."
"Step on me, Eliza! I'd pay to be in her shoes."
"Do you think he even belongs here?"
Cain's left eye twitched slightly from irritation. He clenched his fists under the desk, his intrusive thoughts started once again. "Should I punch their faces? Just one hit each… it would shut them up for a while."
He forced himself to breathe slowly, keeping his head down to avoid drawing more attention.
Suddenly, the front door opened with a click. The chatter stopped immediately. All eyes turned toward the doorway as a man in his mid-thirties stepped in. He wore a neatly pressed shirt, dark trousers, and a serious expression.
"Good morning, everyone," the man said, his voice calm. "My name is William Vhuc. I am thirty-six years old, and I will be your history teacher this semester. Our class meets from 7:45 to 8:30 each morning."
He placed a stack of folders neatly on the desk, then turned to face the students fully. His gaze was steady but not threatening, scanning the room as if noting who was paying attention after he entered.
"Before we begin with the lesson," he continued, his tone precise and professional, "I would like each of you to introduce yourselves. State your full name and your age. Speak clearly."
A few students whispered to each other.
"Ugh, this is going to be so boring."
"Just say your name and age."
Cain exhaled slowly, adjusting his posture. He could feel the tension in the room, both the rich, confident students and the intimidating presence of the professor. One by one, students began speaking, their voices is full of confidence, while Cain is bracing himself, knowing his turn was coming.
1. Aiden Crosswell, 18 — "Nice to meet you."
2. Mira Lane, 18 — "Hello, everyone."
3. Julian Hart, 18 — "Good morning."
4. Serena Vale, 17 — "It's a pleasure to be here."
5. Leon Fareswell, 18 — "Glad to join the class."
6. Kiera Monté, 18 — "Please treat me well."
7. Evan Drew, 18 — "Looking forward to this year."
8. Liana Rosewood, 17 — "I hope we get along."
9. Damon lipha, 18 — "Let's do our best."
10. Rhea Storty, 18 — "Nice meeting everyone."
11. Theo Wren, 18 — "Happy to be here."
12. Aria Lowell, 17 — "Thank you for having me."
13. Cyrus Hale, 17 — "Let's get along well."
14. Viola Renford, 18 — "I'll be in your care."
15. Rowan Silvers, 17 — "Hello, classmates."
16. Celestine Fyre, 17 — "It's an honor to be here."
17. Harper jyed, 18 — "Good to see you all."
18. Maeve Stling, 18 — "I hope we all have a good year."
19. Eliza Sefinna Denise, 18 - "Hmph… I suppose you all may address me as Eliza Sefinna Denise.
Try not to waste my time."
20. Cain Adams 20 - "I… I'm Cain Adams. Just call me Cain. Nice to meet you everyone."
After Cain finished his introduction, a brief silence settled over the room. Some students whispered quietly, still unsure how to react to him, while others kept their eyes on him.
"Oh… how charming," Eliza said, tilting her head slightly and letting her fingers toy with the edge of her fan. Her tone was slow, deliberate, dripping with amusement and superiority. "Not only a peasant, but also an old man. How… quaint."
She gave a small, theatrical laugh, the kind that sounded practiced, refined, and dismissive all at once. Her eyes scanned the room, enjoying the reaction she was provoking. A few of the other students laughed along, some nervously, some genuinely entertained, feeding off her confidence.
Eliza's posture was perfect—straight-backed, legs crossed elegantly under her chair. She leaned slightly forward, resting one elbow on the desk, her chin slightly tilted.
"Really," she continued, voice soft but with unmistakable disdain, "it is almost painful to see someone so… unrefined in my presence. Surely, my eyes are being strained by this display of mediocrity, how disgusting. Truly."
The room buzzed with quiet laughter and murmurs, all directed toward him, yet none dared challenge Eliza. Her dominance in the class was absolute—her voice, her presence, her wealth and power demanding obedience without a single raised hand.