The three notorious transfers arrived at my high school, Haneul Academy, as punishment for whatever trouble they’d caused before, clearly expecting the usual reaction—whispers, fear, the kind of panic that normally follows boys like them. But here, the atmosphere was different. People didn’t look at them the way they were used to, and they certainly weren’t focused on them. Everyone here already knew me—the Student Committee President—but the new boys didn’t understand why the students didn’t flock to me for help or guidance the way a “president” is supposed to inspire. They didn’t realize my influence wasn’t loud or public; it didn’t need to be.