Becoming the top student really shifted everything for me. I could feel the change in the air—how the classroom buzzed differently, how my name slipped into nearly every conversation, like a whispered secret that everyone suddenly knew. Classmates and teachers alike started to notice me in ways I hadn't expected. At first, it was exciting, but that recognition came with something else: pressure.
People began to make physical contact more often—hands resting lightly on my shoulder or giving it a quick tap in passing, accompanied by a thank-you or a smile for a job well done. Each touch felt heavier, like an invisible weight that followed me wherever I went. My body tensed in response, before I could even stop it. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay still, to not give in to the overwhelming tide of attention. This was different. This was now.
I started receiving love letters—more than just from the boys in my class, but from students across the entire school. To my surprise, there were even a few from girls, their words filled with admiration. Ever since the midterm results were posted, my locker has become a whirlwind of chaos. I could barely keep track of it all—every time I opened the door, a new letter would slip out, tumbling to the floor like a forgotten secret. It felt like the letters multiplied overnight. I honestly can't remember a day when I opened it and didn't find at least one tucked inside, waiting for me, like a quiet confession wrapped in paper.
It wasn't just on school days. Even on weekends and during the break before the second term started, the letters kept coming—filling my locker like a relentless tide. It seemed like they would never stop. My locker, once a quiet place for books and assignments, now overflowed with letters I hadn't asked for and, honestly, didn't want. The sight of them—piled up, crammed in, crinkling from the weight—felt suffocating, like they were crowding me from all sides. Part of me longed to just throw them all away, to rid myself of the constant reminders. But there was a hesitation in my chest, a nagging fear. If I ignored them, would it make me a target? I could already feel the weight of the curious eyes on me—everyone watching, wondering. Not engaging with the letters seemed like an invitation for even more attention, and that thought made my stomach twist with unease.
So I wrote a letter to thank them all & I told them I appreciated their honesty, that I was grateful for their feelings, but I explained that I couldn't go-out with anyone right now because I needed to focus on my studies. In reality, I'm not actually focusing on my studies at all. I didn't want to be tangled up in any of this, I just don't want to be involved in anything. I made photocopies of that letter and sent them out to everyone who had written to me, like I was just distributing a form letter. There was no emotion in my words, no warmth, just a sterile response to put it all behind me. I thought people might avoid me a little afterwards, but instead,
I noticed it for a while —the stares, the hushed voices, the way students would glance at me before quickly looking away, as if they were afraid I might catch them watching. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, they were not trying to avoid me. but it felt strange—like being in a room full of people who knew something I didn't.
At first, I tried to ignore it. Maybe it was just because I had ranked first in the midterms. That had to be it, right? But then, Monaka dropped a line that made me pause, and I could feel the weight of it sink in deeper than I expected.
"Kensi, I think you've got more fans than the student council president now."
I stopped mid-step, blinking in confusion. "What?"
Monaka laughed, nudging me playfully. "Seriously? Haven't you noticed? People have been talking about you nonstop lately."
"Because of the test scores?" I asked, frowning.
Monaka snorted. "Nope. Because of the cold letter thing."
I stared at her, my heart sinking a little. "What... letter thing?"
"Letters."
Monaka opened her mouth, likely ready to say more, but before she could, Saana appeared out of nowhere, stepping in between us and covering Monaka's mouth with a quick, firm gesture.
"Actually, does your mouth have no brakes or what?" Saana said, looking at Monaka
"Letters."
A strange, uneasy sensation settled in my stomach, cold and twisting. I had only written one letter. A rejection. My heartbeat quickened slightly, a nervous pulse I couldn't shake. Was that what Monaka meant? Was that what everyone was talking about? The thought gnawed at me, unsettling in a way I hadn't expected. I hadn't written anything rude. It had been polite—maybe a little formal, but not cruel. But what if people had taken it the wrong way? What if I had accidentally humiliated someone, and now—
A fresh wave of whispers drifted to my ears, lighthearted, casual. I caught my name, but the tone wasn't mocking or resentful. Some of the students were even smiling as they talked.No one looked angry.My chest tightened, unsure whether to exhale or hold my breath. Had I misunderstood everything? My first instinct was to retreat, to shrink back into the shadows, to vanish before this all turned into something worse. But... no one seemed upset.
Monaka kept talking, but I barely heard her. The quiet hum of whispers filled the air, and in that moment, something unexpected crept in—relief. They weren't mad. They weren't avoiding me.Slowly, carefully, I let my shoulders relax, the weight in my chest easing, if only a little.
Maybe… maybe these people weren't so bad.
I still couldn't fully trust them—couldn't just yet—but for the first time in a long while, I thought maybe I could try. Just a little.
As we headed back to class, I noticed Monaka and Saana whispering to each other, their words low and private. I couldn't make out what they were saying.
Monaka muttered, "You goof… there's no fun if she knows that..." just loud enough for me to catch part of it, but still too quiet to understand the full meaning.
I paused for a moment, trying to process her words. Then it hit me—if they knew about the rejections, that could mean the letters were finally over. Maybe I was free now. I felt a strange sense of relief, like a weight lifting off my chest. The chatter in the locker hallway buzzed around me, but I didn't care. I ignored the whispers and walked toward my locker with a light heart, swinging the door open with a little more energy than usual.
But as I did, my eyes landed on it. A single folded note, wedged inside—waiting for me.
Another one?
I didn't touch it.
As I turned away, I caught Monaka's voice in the distance, rising above the morning noise.
"Seriously? He showed it off?!" she snorted, half-laughing. "Well, I guess I get it—it's basically a collector's item now."
Laughter followed, but I barely registered it.
"If she ever finds out, she'll probably disappear."
That one made me pause. Who? Find out what?
It didn't matter. I shut my locker, walking past clusters of students. Some of them whispered, glancing in my direction, but I ignored them. It wasn't my business.
Across the hall, a third-year leaned against his locker, reading a note aloud to his friends.
"Wow, even mine was polite. Ice-cold, but polite."
I didn't understand.
"I want one too," another voice chimed in.
honestly, I didn't care .
"Maybe I should try. It's like a limited-edition thing now."
"Hey, did you send one too? No? Then you're missing out."
"Guess I made the list."
"Did you see his face? He looked proud to get one."
"I swear, she doesn't even know what's happening."
"So, how does it feel to be the school's most famous heartbreaker?"
The whispers kept coming, but I didn't care anymore. No one was picking on me, so I just let it all slide. After all, they say ignorance is bliss.
I kept receiving more and more letters, but I just kept sending my polite rejection responses. Meanwhile, I noticed more and more students eagerly checking their lockers like they were searching for treasure.
I kept ignoring it all, letting the letters pile up as usual. But then, one day, I overheard something that stopped me in my tracks.
Monaka was talking to someone, her voice filled with that usual playful tone. "You don't get it, do you? It's all because of her cold letters. They're a thing now."
My stomach tightened. Cold letters?
Before I could process it further, the whispers around me clicked into place. People weren't just talking about the rejection letters—they were treating them like some kind of… trend. I heard a third-year say, laughing, "You got one? Man, you're part of the 'Legendary Cold Letter' club now."
A club? What?
I couldn't believe it. What was going on? How had my polite rejection turned into some kind of legend?
The embarrassment hit me all at once, a flush creeping up my neck. It was a joke. Monaka had made it a joke. And now everyone—everyone—was talking about it. My rejection letters had become a symbol. A "cold letter" phenomenon. A wave of heat rushed to my face, and I felt like I might actually melt from how embarrassed I was.
"I want to disappear..."
As the "cold letters" gained popularity, something unexpected happened—people started to approach me. At first, it felt awkward, but before I knew it, I had made friends with more than half of my year. The funny thing was, they didn't really bother me. They were careful not to upset me, always trying to help whenever they could, and I found myself helping them in return, explaining things they didn't get.
Things seemed to settle into a strange rhythm. I had friends now, and life felt a little joyfull. It almost seemed like smooth sailing, until that day came.
***
It was the third day of the second term—still early in the year, but already a sense of routine was settling in. Our school operated on a two-term system: one before the mid-term exam, one after. And then, at the very end, the final exam loomed, the one that determined if we would move up to the next class or face the dreaded prospect of repeating the year.
I was standing with Monaka and her friends, laughing about something stupid while the usual buzz of conversation filling the air. Just as we were starting to settle into the familiar routine of waiting for class to begin, the door to the classroom swung open. Our teacher rushed in, her footsteps quick and purposeful, her usual calm demeanor replaced by an odd urgency. She was actually early, the bell for the first period still a few minutes away. Her eyes sparkled with something unfamiliar—there was something different about her today—a rare, uncharacteristic smile on her face. Without wasting a beat, she raised her hands slightly, her voice carrying through the room with a hint of excitement. "I have a surprise for you all."
Her words hung in the air, making the usual chatter die down instantly. We exchanged curious glances, a ripple of anticipation spreading through the room, each of us wondering what was coming next. What kind of surprise could she possibly have in store?
"We are getting a new transfer student today"
Mrs. Hasuki invited the new student to come inside the classroom. As the door creaked open, the class fell silent. A girl stood there for a moment in the doorway, framed by the dim light from the hallway. She stepped into the room, her presence immediately commanding attention. She was slightly shorter than me, but the way she carried herself made her appear almost otherworldly. Her long, straight, raven-black hair cascaded down her back, catching the light and shimmering with an almost ethereal glow, as if each strand held a secret. Her posture was perfect, exuding a quiet strength, the kind that commanded attention without a word.
Her bright eyes, dark yet full of life, scanned the room with a sharp curiosity, as though she was assessing every corner of her new world. There was a quiet confidence in her movements.
Her uniform, neatly pressed, fit her form like it had been tailored specifically for her, emphasizing her poise and elegance. The tailored cut of her blazer seemed to follow her every movement, making her look like someone straight out of a fashion magazine. It wasn't just her appearance that stood out—there was a certain air about her, a subtle confidence that seemed to say she had nothing to prove. With every step she took toward the front of the room, the entire atmosphere shifted. The quiet hum of the class seemed to hush, as if everyone instinctively knew she was someone different.
When she finally spoke, her voice was smooth and melodic, carrying an undertone of both power and gentleness.
"Hello, I'm Ozaka Aelvar, nice to meet you,"
She said confidently. Even though I was hearing that name for the first time, something about her first name felt strangely familiar, like it was a whisper from a forgotten memory. But her last name? It sounded almost too perfect, too polished, like it was a mask she wore.
I couldn't explain it, but a chill ran down my spine. There was something about her, something that went beyond just her appearance. She seemed like a riddle wrapped in mystery, as if every detail about her was meant to keep me guessing
. Then I noticed her bright eyes, which had been wandering around the classroom for a while, suddenly fixate on me.
She was listening to Mrs. hasuki explain things about the school and classroom. At first, I thought she was just spacing out, but as time passed, I figured out that she wasn't just looking at me; she was actually glaring at me. Even though the bright sparkle in her eyes seemed cheerful and happy, her gaze felt cold, like a thick layer of ice covering a still, dark lake. It felt as if she could see right through me, deep into my very soul. Just thinking about that sends chills down my spine. I couldn't shake off the feeling that getting too close might lead to unsettling consequences, so I decided to keep my distance from her.
"Okay, now class, let's make sure to treat her well. Ozaka, you can sit next to Kensi."
As the teacher spoke, I saw Ozaka walking towards me. I knew she was just heading to her desk, but I couldn't shake the instinct to avoid making eye contact. I focused on the desk in front of me, praying she wouldn't notice the way my heart raced.
She moved with a quiet grace, each step seeming to glide across the floor, embodying the elegance and composure of someone who was always in control. She settled into her seat, the space between us now narrowing.A soft sigh of relief escaped me as she finally sat down, instead of trying to approach me.
Just then, Ms. Hasuki began teaching, her voice cutting through the silence as she declared she didn't want to waste our precious time anymore. It was the first time I found myself thankful for her punctuality. At least that meant Ozaka wouldn't have the chance to speak to me—at least, not yet.
Once Mrs. hasuki wrapped up her class, she picked up her stuff and walked out, leaving us to prepare for the next subject: robotics. For that, we had to head to the electronics lab. I was busy collecting my things and getting ready to move when Ozaka approached me,
"Hello Kensi, nice to meet you"
"Hello, nice meat you too Ozaka "
I gave her a quick, clipped response, hoping it would signal the end of the conversation and nudge her toward getting ready for the next class. But as I gathered my things, I could feel her standing there, waiting. Her gaze was unwavering, not the least bit hurried, as if she wasn't going anywhere. I glanced at her, but there was no escaping it—she wasn't letting me off the hook that easily.
"by the way, I heard that…"
She opened her mouth, looking like she was ready to say something, but I jumped in and interrupted her right away, acting as if I hadn't even realized she was speaking.
"Hey Ozaka, we have robotics now. We have to get to the lab' the lab is at…"
I just kept rambling on about where the lab was, trying to cut her off mid-sentence without a second thought. She suddenly paused, her words hanging in the air. I saw her expression changing as I blabbed on, and it was clear she was getting a little disappointed. I didn't notice right away, but there was definitely a hint of frustration creeping into her face. The more I talked, the more her annoyance showed, and It felt like there was a bunch of unspoken stuff between us. So I tried my best to keep her from talking.
Luckily, some of her classmates came over to her desk, looking excited to chat. Before long, she was surrounded by people, much like a flower is surrounded by bees. The atmosphere around her desk changed instantly. I knew it was my chance to slip away, so I quickly gathered my things and tried to leave the class. Just then, Ozaka unexpectedly reached out and grabbed my hand.
"you don't need to act."
She whispered into my ear in a soft voice and melted away into the bustling crowd
***