The shrill sound of an alarm tore through the silence of the room. Logan Hart groaned, his hand blindly swatting at the clock on his nightstand.

7:30 AM.

His eyes shot open. "Oh, come on!" he muttered, realizing he was already late for his first day at school.

He rolled out of bed, his slightly pudgy frame wobbling as he stumbled toward the closet. Grabbing the first clothes he could find, he struggled to pull on his shirt, which was tighter than it used to be. While hopping into his pants, he tripped over his sneakers and fell flat onto the floor with a thud.

He lay there for a moment, winded, before groaning, "Why does gravity hate me?"

Pushing himself up, Logan hurriedly finished dressing, ignoring his messy hair in the mirror. His stomach growled at the sight of the toast and eggs on the kitchen table, but the clock told him all he needed to know.

"No time for breakfast," he muttered, grabbing his bag and sprinting out the door, his slightly heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet street.

By the time he made it halfway to school, he was already winded, sweat forming on his brow. "This day better get better," he grumbled, clutching his side as he forced himself to keep going.

Logan finally reached the school gates, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The cool morning breeze felt like a blessing after the mad dash. He glanced at his watch and sighed in relief. "Still a few minutes left. At least I won't look like a complete disaster."

Spotting a water fountain nearby, Logan shuffled over, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. He took a long drink, the cold water calming his racing heart.

As he stood there, trying to figure out where to go, a realization hit him like a brick. "Where the hell is my class?" His eyes darted around, scanning the sea of students, all seemingly more confident about where they were headed.

"Lost already?" a cheerful voice cut through his panic.

Logan turned to see a girl standing beside him, her head tilted slightly, a curious smile on her lips. She was dressed in the same uniform as him, her neatly tied ponytail swinging as she shifted her bag on her shoulder.

"Uh, yeah," Logan admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's my first day, and I have no clue where Class 1-D is."

The girl's smile widened. "Oh, 1-D? Sorry, I'm in 1-B, but I know where your class is. I can walk you there if you'd like."

Logan's lips curled into a small, relieved smile. "Seriously? Thanks. Guess I owe you one."

"Big time," she teased lightly. "Come on, I'll show you."

As they started walking together, Logan decided to break the silence. "I'm Logan Hart, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Logan," the girl replied warmly. "I'm Sophie Clarke."

"Sophie, huh?" Logan repeated, testing the name. "That's a nice name. Easy to remember."

"And yours is pretty classic," Sophie said with a grin. "Logan's got a strong vibe to it. Sounds like a superhero name or something."

Logan chuckled. "Yeah, if superheroes trip over their own shoes and run late to everything."

Sophie laughed, the sound light and infectious. "Well, superhero or not, I think you'll survive here just fine. Just don't forget the basics: bring a map or, better yet, make more friends who won't mind helping you out."

As they walked through the bustling hallways, Sophie pointed out a classroom with "1-D" etched on the door. "Here's your stop."

"Thanks, Sophie. Seriously, I'd still be wandering around without your help."

"Anytime," Sophie said, waving as she headed toward her own class. "See you around, Logan!"

Logan watched her leave before stepping into the classroom, a small smile on his face. Maybe this day won't be so bad after all.

Logan walked into Class 1-D, his eyes scanning the rows of desks. The room was already filled with students, most of them talking and laughing with each other. His heart sank as he realized there was nowhere to sit.

He lingered by the door for a moment, hoping someone would offer a seat or at least make some space. But the clock on the wall ticked away, and the teacher was bound to arrive soon.

His gaze landed on the only empty desk — it was at the very front, next to the teacher's desk. Great, he thought, Nothing like being in the spotlight on day one.

Before he could second-guess himself, Logan quickly took the seat. There wasn't time to think about it. The classroom was buzzing with chatter when, suddenly, the door creaked open.

All the voices immediately dropped into a hush. Logan looked up to see the teacher enter.

She was an older woman with sharp features, her eyes carrying the weight of years spent in education. She stood at the front of the class for a moment, surveying the room. The atmosphere shifted as the students awaited her words.

Once she was certain the class had settled, she began speaking.

"This school might seem ordinary at first glance," she started, her voice calm yet commanding, "but it is far from it. You'll understand more as time goes on."

Logan raised an eyebrow, intrigued but still unsure about what she meant.

"For now," the teacher continued, "you can ask any second-year student about what truly makes this school different. They'll know more than I can tell you in one sitting."

The room was still, each student processing her words. Logan shifted in his seat, his curiosity piqued. What exactly was so different about this school? And why was it being kept a secret from them?

Just as the teacher was about to start the lesson, her sharp gaze fell on Logan.

"Mr. Hart," she said, her voice suddenly colder.

Logan stiffened, wondering what he'd done.

"Yes, ma'am?" he responded, trying to sound confident.

"Your appearance," she started, her eyes narrowing. "You may think this is a casual setting, but in this school, we value discipline. That means you can't come to class looking like you rolled out of bed."

The class went silent as Logan felt his face flush with embarrassment. He instinctively ran a hand through his hair, only realizing then how messy it was. His shirt, though clean, was wrinkled from his rushed morning, and his pants seemed to be mismatched with his shoes.

The teacher's stern voice continued. "You need to show respect, not just for yourself, but for the people around you. We have high standards here. Don't let this happen again."

The silence in the room was palpable as Logan tried to shrink into his seat. His mind raced, but he couldn't think of anything to say.

The teacher gave him one last look before turning away. "Now, we'll proceed with today's lesson."

Logan's cheeks burned as he kept his gaze on the desk, trying to disappear into it. The whispers and glances from his classmates made it worse, but there was nothing he could do now.

Great. Just great.

The bell rang, signaling the end of Logan's first class. A long break followed, giving the students time to wander the school grounds and explore. Logan, still embarrassed from the earlier confrontation with the teacher, stepped outside to clear his mind. The fresh air was a relief, but his thoughts were clouded with everything that had happened so far.

As he roamed the campus, trying to distract himself, a girl approached him.

"Logan Hart?" she asked, her voice soft but firm.

"Yeah?" Logan responded, raising an eyebrow.

"The teacher wants to see you," she said, her expression unreadable.

Logan hesitated for a moment, wondering why he was being summoned. "Where's the teacher's room?"

The girl didn't answer directly. She just gestured for him to follow her.

Curious but cautious, Logan trailed behind her, wondering what this was all about. The girl led him down a few hallways, until they stopped in front of an empty classroom.

"Here," she said simply, before pushing the door open.

Logan stepped inside, but the moment he did, he realized something was off. The room was empty, but the heavy scent of smoke lingered in the air. A group of older boys, clearly second-year students, lounged in the back, blowing out clouds of smoke.

Before Logan could even process what was happening, the girl locked the door behind him, her face suddenly distant.

"Wait, what's going on?" Logan asked, his voice now tinged with suspicion. "Why am I here?"

The girl ignored him, walking over to one of the thugs in the back of the room. "I've done my part," she said coldly, her voice lacking any warmth. "Now, I want my payment."

The guy smirked, his eyes scanning her up and down. "You're more capable than a whore, I see," he sneered, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into a kiss.

Logan stood frozen in place, unable to move, his mind reeling. He had no idea what was happening, but one thing was clear: he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The thug kissed the girl forcefully, his hands all over her as she seemed to give in to the situation with no resistance. Logan's thoughts were spinning, his heart racing as the minutes dragged on. What the hell is going on here?

Finally, the thug pulled away from the girl, a smug grin on his face. He looked over at Logan, who hadn't moved an inch.

"Enjoying the scene?" the thug mocked.

Logan's stomach churned with disgust, but he kept his mouth shut. The thug's attention now turned to him.

"Come here," the thug ordered, his tone darker.

Logan felt his legs move before he could think, and he found himself standing in front of the thug.

"On your first day, you're already in trouble," the thug said with a cold smile. "If your face is covered in blood, it's going to be a problem. So, I'll hit you somewhere less obvious."

Before Logan could react, the thug lunged at him and punched him square in the stomach.

The impact was immediate and brutal. Logan gasped for air, his body folding in on itself as an intense pain radiated from his core. His legs buckled beneath him, and he crumpled to the floor, unable to catch his breath.

The laughter of the other guys in the room echoed in his ears as he tried to regain his composure.

"Pathetic," the thug taunted, watching Logan struggle to get up. "One punch, and you're already down? You're weak."

Logan fought to hold back tears, the pain in his stomach excruciating. His head spun as he struggled to stay conscious.

The thug bent down, getting in Logan's face. "Here's a little warning for you. If I see you talking to Sophie, or even thinking about her, you're dead. Understand?"

The thugs left, leaving Logan lying on the floor, gasping for air. His mind was racing as he lay there, trying to process everything that had just happened.

What the hell just happened? Why did they do that?

He slowly pushed himself to his feet, his stomach aching with each movement. He stood still for a moment, feeling the weight of the pain and humiliation wash over him.

He thought to himself how pathetic he is. He questioned his own existence. His wish to lead a normal school life turned into ashes

Logan's thoughts lingered on Sophie for a moment, the words of the thug echoing in his head. I'll need to be careful.