"Absynthe is a fraud. Did you hear what she did?"
The whispers slithered through the rooftops, carried by the wind, hissing like venom before she even had the chance to brace herself.
"She cheated on her exam." The voices dripped with malice, each syllable woven with cruel confidence, spreading like wildfire before she could stop them.
Her phone buzzed. The glow of the notification was like a branding mark, the proof of a strike before she could even lift her defenses. Amy Nyan's girl group had made their move.
> "Did you hear? Absynthe cheated on her test today. Her little crew is full of frauds. She doesn't deserve her reputation." > "The oh-so-handsome Sinister Seraphis must be so disappointed. If she really is his sister. Who knows? Maybe that was a lie too." > "She should be removed from the school ranks. Sorry, but cheaters don't deserve to be School Rep. The system is flawed!"
Each word hit like a blade, sharp and unforgiving, amplified by the cold glow of her screen. The air felt thicker, the stares burned more than the words themselves.
************************************************************************************
Celestia lingered behind, watching the teacher enter the classroom ahead of her. Shadows clung to her features, but beneath them, her eyes gleamed—sharp, calculating, victorious.
She observed Obsidion and Travis as they wandered off, her wicked smile curling at the edges. Too relaxed. Too pleased—like a spectator savoring the unfolding chaos.
Yet, as she basked in the moment, she failed to notice Travis watching her.
His gaze sharpened.
Something was off. He felt it. The weight settled in his gut, creeping up his spine like an unseen force.
Still walking, hands in his pockets, his thoughts tangled.
He had seen that look before.
A flicker of memory. Heat clinging to his skin. Voices behind closed doors. A name whispered in secrecy.
A boy—his hair slicked back, dark as midnight, his smile defiant, unwavering.
The same look. The same presence.
Travis blinked, pulled back, but suspicion clung to him like static in the air.
I know what that face means... His silver eyes hardened.
Did you have something to do with this?
Behind him, Obsidion stormed forward, frustration radiating off him, unaware of the silent battle unfolding just steps behind.
Travis exhaled, turning away, posture calm.
Yet his gaze lingered—fixed just beyond his reach, watching, knowing, calculating.
And then…
A quiet, maniacal giggle slipped past Celestia's lips. Barely audible. Yet suffocating in its restraint.
She muttered to herself, words tangled in a whispered hiss, the tip of her thumbnail pressed against her teeth—a habit teetering between amusement and calculation.
The air shifted.
Just slightly.
The temperature felt wrong.
A flicker. A pause. A moment where everything held its breath—waiting.
Celestia's eyes widened, gleaming with unnerving delight. Her twisted smile stretched at the corners, something inhuman in the way her features refused to soften.
Her laughter grew—not in sound, but in presence.
It coiled through the air, pressing against the walls, tightening the silence until it strangled the space around her.
And then—slowly—it faded.
Swallowed into an unnatural, breathless stillness.
**********************************************************************************
Celestia lingered behind, watching the teacher step into the classroom ahead. Shadows clung to her features, but beneath them, her eyes gleamed—sharp, calculating, victorious.
She observed Obsidion and Travis as they wandered off, a wicked smile curling at the edges of her lips. Too relaxed. Too pleased—like a spectator savoring the unfolding chaos.
Yet, as she basked in the moment, she failed to notice Travis watching her.
His gaze sharpened.
Something was off. He felt it.
The weight settled in his gut, creeping up his spine like an unseen force.
Still walking, hands in his pockets, his thoughts tangled.
He had seen that look before.
A flicker of memory. Heat clinging to his skin. Voices behind closed doors. A name whispered in secrecy.
A boy—his hair slicked back, dark as midnight, his smile defiant, unwavering.
The same look. The same presence.
Travis blinked, pulled back, but suspicion clung to him like static in the air.
I know what that face means... His silver eyes hardened.
Did you have something to do with this?
Behind him, Obsidion stormed forward, frustration radiating off him—unaware of the silent battle unfolding just steps behind.
Travis exhaled, turning away, posture calm.
Yet his gaze lingered—fixed just beyond his reach, watching, knowing, calculating.
And then…
A quiet, maniacal giggle slipped past Celestia's lips. Barely audible. Yet suffocating in its restraint.
She muttered to herself, words tangled in a whispered hiss, the tip of her thumbnail pressed against her teeth—a habit teetering between amusement and calculation.
The air shifted.
Just slightly.
The temperature felt wrong.
A flicker. A pause. A moment where everything held its breath—waiting.
Celestia's eyes widened, gleaming with unnerving delight.
Her twisted smile stretched at the corners—something inhuman in the way her features refused to soften.
Her laughter grew—not in sound, but in presence.
It coiled through the air, pressing against the walls, tightening the silence until it strangled the space around her.
And then—slowly—it faded.
Swallowed into an unnatural, breathless stillness.
**************************************************************************
Absynthe's routine walk stretched into eternity.
The hallways elongated, pressing her into an unforgiving crawl through whispers and judgment.
Books clutched tightly against her chest, she forced herself forward. Willed her feet to move.
A shield. A desperate defense against the voices closing in.
But no matter how tightly she held on, the world pressed harder.
Judgmental giggles rose like waves.
Whispers multiplied.
Each lie sharper, more twisted, more demented than the last.
Her breath hitched, pulse hammering in her throat.
Each step dragged through thick air, suffocating under the weight of unspoken accusations.
Her legs picked up pace—faster, faster—anything to outrun the words.
"Look at her running.""Who does she think she is?""School rep? The system really is flawed."
Each hiss pounded against her skull, seeping into her thoughts, crawling under her skin.
Her grip faltered.
The books slipped.
They tumbled, paper slapping tile, drowned beneath the ringing in her ears.
She blinked rapidly, a sharp sting building behind her eyes.
No—no, not now. Not here.
Hands flew to her ears—desperate, trembling—anything to block them out.
And then—
She ran.
Vision blurring, path narrowing, nothing but the blinding rush toward escape.
Near the exit, Synthena stepped out of the bathroom, drying her hands.
The moment Absynthe came into view, her attention snapped—
Arms clamped over her ears. Legs moving too fast, too recklessly.
Something was wrong.
"Abby, watch out!" Synthena shouted, eyes widening.
An obstruction loomed ahead—too close—before Absynthe could even see what was coming.
**************************************************************************
Absynthe crashed into them—the worst possible group.
Four figures stood before her, each exuding their own brand of dominance, cruelty, and wicked delight.
✅ Amy Nyan – The ringleader, calculating, precise, always hunting for her next victim. ✅ Sophia Lemure – Bubbly yet vicious, hiding her sadism behind a mask of sweetness. ✅ Cienne Rose – Ruthless, sharp, unrelenting, her words laced with poison. ✅ Lukeyan Farman – The group's masculine anchor, their silent enforcer, the intimidation behind their schemes.
They were notorious. Feared. Untouchable.
Trouble didn't follow them. They sought it out. Thrived on it.
It didn't matter who the target was. It didn't matter how petty the drama.
As long as they could watch someone crumble, they were satisfied.
And now—they had Absynthe in their sight.
"Watch it."
Amy barely gave the words weight before her gaze locked onto Absynthe.
Recognition dawned, twisting into mocking amusement.
"Ohh, it's you…"
Her laughter smudged with confidence, dripping with cruelty.
Absynthe's mind raced. How are they even popular with that attitude?
Fear. Not admiration. That's what kept them at the top.
Her frustration spiked.
"You!" she snapped, aggression lacing her voice."Why did you do it?!"
Still flat on the ground, she demanded answers from below.
Her glare fierce— But their looming figures made the power imbalance impossible to ignore.
Sophia tilted her head, feigning confusion, reveling in Absynthe's fallen state.
"What makes you think we'll tell you… huh?"
Without warning, Sophia shoved her face closer—suffocating her space, asserting dominance over her collapsed frame.
Absynthe's confidence wavered.
They chuckled, the sound twisting the air, waiting for her reaction—
Waiting for her to break.
But her voice wouldn't come.
Then, Lukeyan's deep, mocking tone sliced through the tension.
"Speak up! We can't hear all the way down there."
His smirk curled, taunting.
"Did the cat catch your tongue?"
His words hit like a strike, drenched in dominance.
Synthena sprinted to Absynthe's side, arms wrapping protectively around her.
"Why don't you back up? Leave her alone!" Synthena snapped, voice edged with defiance.
Amy's smirk widened, her amusement undisturbed.
"Oh, look. Another one."
She flicked her gaze over Synthena, mocking, dismissive.
"Did you come to defend your useless friend?"
The group echoed her laughter, syncing in cruel unison.
Amplifying the weight pressing down on Absynthe.
Synthena held on tighter—protective, unyielding.
Then—it happened.
Another strand of hair faded into pure white, weaving through her dark locks.
A mark of pain. A mark of betrayal.
And they weren't alone.
The lingering students, watching from the sidelines—did nothing.
Instead, they cheered the spectacle.
Quiet, but deafening.
Absynthe's heart pounded.
She noticed them. The onlookers. The silent audience.
The ones who let this happen.
The room became a chorus of quiet destruction. Voices melding into the whispers of the crowd.
Her hands flew to her ears, pressing hard, breath uneven.
Shut it out. Shut it out.
But the voices punched through her defenses, burrowing deep—
Warping the silhouettes around her. Twisting reality into something grim. Unbearable.
Everything blurred.
The world blurred.
Synthena blurred.
She was fading—swallowed by isolation.
The tension coiled around her, choking out reason.
Her eyes filled with despair, memories fracturing—
Deconstructing. Moment by moment.
And then—it happened again.
More strands of black dissolved into pale white, consuming her hair, overtaking it entirely.
A voice—sharp, fierce, unrelenting—charged forward, slicing through the tension.
Obsidion stepped in, arms raised in a protective barrier.
Behind him, Travis stood firm.
Watching. Waiting. Ready to intervene.
And then—they stood together.
Absynthe and Synthena lifted their heads.Standing firm despite everything.
Amy's crew hesitated.
They saw it now. Outnumbered. Outmatched. Outmaneuvered.
Amy's eyes narrowed—irritation flashing in her gaze.
She hated losing control.
"Forget it."
The words left her sharp, dismissive.
Obsidion remained a wall, unwavering.
Amy laughed—twisting into something dark, detached.
"You should ask your little blonde friend."
She chuckled, turning away.
And within that parting gap—Celestia stood alone.
Her arms hung limp. Her posture unbothered.
Absynthe's aura shifted—realization sinking cold, undeniable.
It was her.
Celestia—once friend, now foe.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
The last few strands of black faded completely—replaced by blasted white.
The ultimate mark of her betrayal.
Absynthe growled—low, guttural, raw.
Celestia didn't flinch.
She turned away, walking toward the exit—completely dismissing the chaos she'd caused.
Absynthe's eyes burned, locked onto her.
Her growl deepened, fractured beyond repair.
Her tarnished reputation—a fate sealed.
"I will never forgive you, Celestia."
*****************************************************************************
Absynthe stood like stone—looming, unyielding.
Her presence pressed against Celestia, who sat frozen before the glow of her monitors.
Tension thickened the air, swallowing every breath.
Her teeth clenched—her fists tighter still.
Behind them, Synthena hesitated—shoulders slumped, torn between rage and sorrow.
Was her pity for the betrayed—or the betrayer?
The silence burned.
Absynthe could taste it, thick, suffocating, unbearable.
And then—she shattered it.
Her voice pierced the air, raw, unwavering.
"I'll ask you one more time—WHY?!"
WHY?! DID YOU DO IT!