[This time it would be Ren's point of view]
I ditched the hallway stairs two at a time, irritation still crawling under my skin like ants that wouldn't die. Shimiki Yerin. Student council president. Miss Perfect. Just thinking her name made my tongue feel dirty.
Who does she think she is, looking down at me like that? Like I was some kind of stain on the school floor she needed to wipe away.
The bell for the second half of lunch rang as I pushed open the rooftop door, the cold winter air slapping my face. A couple of third-years were still up there, smoking behind the water tanks like idiots. I ignored them and leaned against the fence, shoving my hands into my pockets.
"Tch."
I replayed it again in my head—her calm voice, her glasses catching the light, the way she didn't back away when I stepped closer. Most people did. Teachers, students, even delinquents from other classes. But not her.
And that pissed me off more than anything.
By the time afternoon classes ended, my bad mood hadn't improved. If anything, it got worse. Word traveled fast in this school, especially when it came to Shimiki Yerin. People whispered her name like it was sacred. Perfect grades. Perfect behavior. Perfect leadership. Like she wasn't even human.
Which meant it would be really easy to knock her off that pedestal.
The idea hit me while I was slumped at my desk, pretending to listen to history. Rumors were Seorin High's favorite currency. You didn't need proof—just confidence and the right audience. And I had both.
After school, I headed to the back stairwell where people liked to gather when teachers weren't around. Two girls from Class 2-B were there, chatting loudly. I recognized them—loud mouths, bored, always hungry for drama.
I leaned against the wall and clicked my tongue. "You guys hear about the student council president?"
They turned immediately. Hook, line, sinker.
"What about her?" one asked. "Shimiki-senpai?"
I smirked. "Figures you don't know."
That was all it took.
I lowered my voice like I was sharing something dangerous. "I ran into her today. Literally. And she got… weird."
"Weird how?" the other girl asked, eyes shining.
I shrugged. "She stared at me. Like, really stared. Then asked if I was hurt and kept looking me up and down." I scoffed. "Creeped me out."
Their mouths dropped open.
"No way."
"I heard she's into girls," I added casually, like it was an afterthought. "Wouldn't surprise me. Explains why she's never dated anyone."
The words tasted sharp and satisfying as they left my mouth.
"Wait—seriously?"
"Yeah," I said. "And not just that. People say she's kind of a pervert. Uses her position to get close to students."
By the time I walked away, their whispers had already started.
Good.
The next day, the air felt different.
I noticed it the moment I stepped through the school gates. Groups clustered closer than usual, voices low, eyes darting. When Shimiki Yerin passed by surrounded by student council members, heads turned. Some people looked away too fast. Others stared a little too long.
I sat at my desk, legs stretched out, pretending not to care—but inside, I was buzzing.
By lunch, the rumor had grown legs.
"She's a lesbian, right?"
"I heard she stares at girls in the locker room."
"Isn't that why she became president?"
Each version got more exaggerated, more disgusting. I didn't correct anyone. I didn't have to. Once a story escaped your mouth, it belonged to everyone.
From my seat near the window, I watched Yerin walk across the courtyard. She looked the same as always—straight back, calm expression, hair neat. But something was off. Her steps were slower. Her eyes sharper, like she was listening to everything at once.
Good. Let her feel it.
During club activities, a first-year girl ran past me whispering to her friend. "I'm scared of the student council president now."
I laughed under my breath.
But later that afternoon, something unexpected happened.
I was called to the staff room.
The vice principal sat across from me, fingers steepled, expression tight. "Ryohan Ren. There have been some concerning rumors circulating. Ones that seem to trace back to you."
I leaned back in my chair. "Rumors? I just talk. People twist things."
"Do you understand the seriousness of these accusations?" he pressed.
I tilted my head, careless. "If they're just rumors, why take them seriously?"
He frowned. "You're dismissed. For now."
When I left, my heart was beating faster than I liked. Not from fear—annoyance. I hated authority. Always had. But a small, quiet thought slipped in anyway.
Shimiki Yerin hadn't said a word.
Not to teachers. Not to students. Not even to me.
That evening, as the sun dipped behind the school building, I saw her standing alone near the notice board. A couple of girls whispered nearby before hurrying away. Yerin noticed. Of course she did.
Our eyes met across the courtyard.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
She didn't look angry.
She looked… disappointed.
The feeling that hit my chest wasn't victory. It wasn't satisfaction.
It was something tighter. Heavier.
I clicked my tongue and turned away, shoving my hands into my pockets as I walked off.
Whatever. She deserved it.
That's what I told myself.
But as the rumors spread and grew, curling around the school like smoke, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just started something that wouldn't end quietly.
And somehow, deep down, I knew Shimiki Yerin wouldn't let it end at all.