At the front, the popular girl—Lila, her name is Lila—twirls a cherry lollipop between her glossed lips, her voice a conspiratorial stage-whisper to her friend.

Mr. Jhori walks in, his long black hair tied loosely at his nape. He moves with a quiet efficiency, placing a stack of notebooks and a worn literature textbook on the steel desk before perching on its edge. His blue eyes scan the room, cool and assessing.

Aether stands with a quiet posture, his bright blonde hair almost glowing. Beside him, Venti’s aqua-green eyes dart around with open curiosity, his twin braids resting over his shoulders. Xiao’s golden gaze is fixed on the far wall, solemn and distant. Kazuha offers a small, gentle smile, the red streak in his platinum hair like a brushstroke. Heizou’s light olive-green eyes take in the room with a detective’s sharpness, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Last, Scaramouche’s indigo eyes, accentuated by sharp red liner, sweep across the students with detached, doll-like precision.

A low wave of murmurs breaks out behind you. You can feel the shift in the room—the sharp intake of breaths, the rustle of skirts as girls lean forward.