Dressed in an all-black casual outfit, Sam stepped gracefully out of the car, instantly drawing the attention of many students. After all, in District 13, it wasn't common to see someone arriving at school in a luxury vehicle.
"Whoa, the latest Thunder X600! Who owns this car? So extravagant!"
"Who else? It's got to be Sam, the Young Master from Class 3-B," someone said mockingly, their words dripping with jealousy.
"Sam? You mean that sickly guy with narcolepsy? I heard he's always taking sick leave, and someone even saw him pass out during class. Why's he here today?"
"Shh! Keep your voice down if you value your life. Some students claim to have seen him hanging around with the Viper Gang. Rumour has it he's their prince."
At the mention of the Viper Gang, the murmuring students fell into a deathly silence. No one dared speak another word, let alone glance in Sam's direction.
Walking with measured steps, Sam leaned on a sleek cane made of serpentine-patterned wood. The cane's handle was crafted from gold and encrusted with sparkling diamonds, with a small clock embedded at its centre. Predictably, the face of the clock bore the engraving of a mysterious ouroboros.
Sam moved slowly, his gait deliberate, like a king surveying his domain. His striking appearance—handsome features, a slender and tall build, pale skin, and the enigmatic gaze concealed behind his amber-tinted glasses—exuded an air of alluring mystery.
Some of the girls who admired him had even started rumours behind his back, speculating that he came from a noble lineage but had fallen from grace, ending up in the Lower City. They had taken to calling him the "Lost Noble."
Of course, only Sam knew the truth. Using a cane wasn't about showing off—it was a necessity. With his current physical condition, he was likely to need one for the rest of his life.
As he neared the school building, a petite girl with chin-length hair and a navy-blue school uniform came running toward him. She came to an abrupt stop in front of him, her small, fair face already flushed red. Clutched tightly in her hands was a pink envelope.
"S... Sam," she stammered, her large, starry eyes darting around nervously, unable to muster the courage to look him directly in the eye.
The girl seemed to be well-known among the students, as her appearance caused an immediate shift in the crowd's attention.
"Isn't that Claire Rivers, the class beauty from 3-B? Is she holding a love letter? Is she about to confess to Sam?"
"Another girl confessing to Sam? Life's just unfair!" a boy wailed.
"Well, if you got chauffeured to school in a luxury car every day and were as handsome as him, you'd have girls confessing to you too," another replied with a smirk.
The murmurs from the surrounding students only made Claire's face grow redder. If the weather were any warmer, she might have started steaming.
"Sam… Sam, are you feeling better?" Claire finally mustered the courage to ask.
Sam smiled, his voice warm and magnetic. "Much better, thank you for asking."
Claire's face turned an even deeper shade of red. She couldn't bring herself to look up, instead staring intently at the tips of her shoes.
"T-that's good. I… I…" She fidgeted with the pink letter in her hands, her voice faltering as she struggled to get the words out.
Fortunately, Sam decided to help her out. Pointing to the letter in her hands, he asked gently, "Is that for me?"
Claire's petite frame trembled slightly, like a spring suddenly released. She raised her head with all the courage she could muster, stealing a glance at Sam's gentle smile. Yet, the moment she saw it, her fleeting courage receded like a tide, and her head snapped back down.
Even so, that final burst of bravery allowed her to lift her hands and extend the letter toward Sam.
"Sam… I… I like you!" Claire blurted out, her voice shaky but sincere. She kept her head bowed, but this time, she noticed something beyond her own shoes: the serpentine-patterned cane tilted slightly in front of her.
The golden clock embedded at the top of the cane glinted in the sunlight, and the ouroboros engraving seemed to come alive, slithering straight into her mind.
In that instant, all the shyness and nervousness drained from Claire's face, replaced by an expressionless blankness.
An icy, mechanical voice broke the silence: "Chief, Ethan Reed arrived at the school ten minutes ago."
A moment later, Claire blinked, and her demeanor shifted back to her previous state—timid and bashful.
Sam's smile grew even warmer, the faint gleam of his eyes hidden behind his amber-tinted glasses. "I see."
Claire nervously raised her head. "You… you see? Then, Sam, do you…"
"Thank you for telling me, Claire," Sam interrupted gently. "But as students, I think it's best to focus on academics. Don't you agree?"
Claire froze, her eyes welling up with tears as a stinging sadness surged through her chest. Her lips trembled as she tried to hold back her emotions, her gaze faltering.
But then, as her eyes met Sam's, the slight tilt of his glasses revealed his deep, enigmatic gaze. Under his piercing stare, Claire's tears inexplicably stopped. A trace of confusion flickered across her face as she nodded almost instinctively.
"I think… you're right."
"Then what are you waiting for? Go study."
"Alright," Claire responded.
She walked away as if nothing had happened.
From a corner nearby, her group of friends rushed over, surrounding her with a flurry of questions.
"Well? How did it go? Did it work? Did he say yes?"
"I knew it! Sam would definitely fall for you! Who doesn't know our little Claire is the class beauty?"
Claire smiled brightly at her friends. "No, I failed."
Her friends froze mid-sentence, their voices stopping abruptly as they stared at her with expressions of shock and disbelief.
"Are you kidding us? How can you be this happy after failing? You've been secretly in love with Sam for so long, and you've been waiting forever for this chance since he's always on sick leave. Now you're saying you finally had the chance and failed? I don't believe you're still smiling! You'd be crying by now!"
Claire chuckled softly. "Do you all think I'm that fragile? I'm not lying—I really was rejected by Sam."
Her friends' jaws dropped further, their surprise deepening.
"Seriously?!"
"Claire, are you feeling alright? Did something happen to you?" one of the girls asked, reaching out to feel Claire's forehead. Claire dodged her hand with a laugh.
"Come on, stop teasing. I'm fine, really. Even though I was rejected, Sam said something to me that I think makes a lot of sense."
"What did he say?"
Claire brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her makeup-free face lighting up with a gentle smile. "That I should focus on my studies."
Sam stepped into the school building. Classes hadn't started yet, and the hallways were bustling with lively students.
Some were arm-in-arm, chatting about plans to hang out after school. Others were showing off newly purchased photo books, while a few mischievous boys were tugging on girls' hair, only to be chased down the corridors amid playful laughter.
One girl, whose flushed cheeks betrayed her annoyance, ran after a boy, threatening him with mock fury. But the twinkle in her eyes suggested she wasn't truly upset.
The boy, grinning with triumph at his successful prank, darted ahead, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to taunt her further.
Soon, the boy found himself face-to-face with Sam blocking his path. Startled, he instinctively swerved to the side, slowing down just enough to slip past Sam without colliding.
"Chief, Ethan Reed is in the restroom."
The brief, low whisper came in the split second the boy passed by, so quick it could have been mistaken for a trick of the mind.
The girl chasing after him followed closely, her face radiant with youthful energy as she dashed by, oblivious to the subtle exchange.
But that vibrant aura of youth froze the moment the girl passed by Sam.
Her expression instantly turned blank, her face devoid of any emotion, like a puppet under someone's control. "Chief, Troy and his gang are extorting Ethan Reed in the restroom."
As soon as the words left her lips, the girl snapped back to her lively self as if nothing had happened. "Don't you run! If you've got the guts, don't even think about coming back to class—I'll stab you for sure!" she yelled, continuing her playful chase down the hallway.
Sam's expression remained unchanged, calm and composed. Leaning on his cane, he walked forward with the grace of a nobleman. However, instead of heading to his classroom, he altered his path—toward the restroom.