"Get away from me, nerd."
"Ugh, gross—don't talk to me!"
"I'm sorry… I just can't see you as my boyfriend."
"Do you think you could satisfy me with that? Keep dreaming. I only dated you for the money."
Ray clutched his ears under the thin covers of his bed, each cruel word echoing louder than the last. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks, seeping into his pillow as he curled into himself, trying to block out the voices—phantoms of memories that refused to die. Life had dealt him a hand soaked in irony. His kindness and sincerity had only earned him ridicule and betrayal. In a world where appearances and status reigned supreme, there was little room for someone like him—gentle, quiet, and overlooked.
As the black veil of night gave way to the pale light of morning, Ray stirred from his bed. He wiped the remnants of sleep and sorrow from his face, stood up, and moved with robotic precision to the small kitchen of their high-rise condo. He prepared his breakfast in silence—eggs, rice, and a slice of toast—mechanically fueling himself for what lay ahead: his first day as a senior in high school. Just two more years before he would escape to college, to somewhere—anywhere—far from the chains of his past.
"Ray! Get ready or you'll be late to school!" a woman's voice called from the living room.
"Coming!" he replied.
Isabella Moriarty, his mother, stood dressed and ready by the door, holding car keys in her manicured hand.
Ray threw on his uniform—white long-sleeved polo, blue vest, neatly tied necktie—and gave himself a once-over in the mirror. His reflection was neat, proper. Slightly handsome, even, with his straight dark hair and clean glasses. But his eyes were empty. The kind of eyes that had once sparkled, now dulled by life's relentless blows.
"I'm ready," he said, stepping into the front seat of the car.
"Alright, let's go," Isabella smiled as they pulled out into the bright, buzzing streets of Taguig, Philippines.
Soon, a large and modern school campus came into view, its gates teeming with chatter and laughter from arriving students.
"Welcome to Orion Crest Academy," his mother said, pride and sadness mixing in her voice. "The most prestigious international academy in the Philippines."
They rolled into the school's parking lot. Isabella parked and turned to her son, eyes soft.
"After today, I have to return to Italy to be with your father. Please take care of yourself, Ray. We'll send your allowance monthly. And remember—you can always call us if you need anything."
"I know, Mom. I'll do my best."
He stepped out of the car, took a deep breath, and began his walk through the campus. The buildings were a blend of western architecture and subtle eastern elements—stone bricks, arched windows, red tiles mixed with intricate wood designs. A strange yet charming mixture of elegance and heritage.
Eventually, he found his way to the main auditorium, where the orientation for all new students was being held. Ray slipped quietly into a seat in the back, avoiding the crowd.
"This is Orion Crest Academy," the principal boomed from the stage. "A place for rebirth, excellence, and opportunity! This is where your new lives begin!"
After the orientation, students were escorted to their homeroom classes. Ray's classroom was wide, sleek, and cold—too cold.
"Cold…" Ray muttered, rubbing his arms as he made his way to a seat in the middle row.
He sat down quietly, watching as students filed in, laughing and chatting. The warmth of their interactions contrasted harshly with his own isolation.
"Yo, nice to meet you. I'm Justin. What's your name?" said a cheerful boy who took the seat next to him.
"Ray," he replied, giving a polite nod. "Nice to meet you too."
They chatted briefly until a stir by the classroom door caught everyone's attention. Six girls entered, fashionably late. Their beauty turned heads—porcelain skin, flowing dark hair, and curves that drew second and third glances. They looked like they had stepped off a K-drama set.
"Looks like the class' gals just arrived," Justin whispered with a grin.
In the center of the group was someone impossible to miss—Rose Everett, heiress to the Everett family fortune and one of the academy's biggest benefactors. Whispers rippled through the class at her appearance.
"It's her! She's in our class!" Justin whispered, shaking Ray's shoulder with excitement. "So, which one's your type, huh? I'll be your wingman if you help me out too."
"None," Ray said flatly, eyes empty again.
"What?" Justin blinked.
"They're out of reach for someone like me. I'm a nerd. I've already lived this story before, and it never ends well."
Justin frowned. "You never know, man. Some stories have plot twists. I've read plenty of novels with happy endings."
"We're not in a novel, Justin," Ray replied. "You might have a chance—you're good-looking, athletic, confident. Me? I'm just Ray."
Justin sighed. "Suit yourself. But the offer stands. Just holler if you change your mind."
The girls began looking for seats. Surprisingly, Rose made her way down the aisle—right toward Ray. She sat beside him, her soft perfume immediately noticeable, her smooth hair brushing over her shoulder as she got comfortable. The top button of her blouse was casually undone, revealing just enough to fluster any nearby boys.
"Good luck, Ray," Justin whispered from the other side, giving him two thumbs up.
Ray stayed still, unsure of what to think. The day passed with the usual introductions, classroom tours, and club showcases. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Ray finally returned home to his now-quiet condominium. His mother's belongings were gone, leaving the space eerily empty.
After unpacking and tidying up to his minimalist preference, he sat down with a sigh.
Then his phone rang.
"Dad?" he answered.
"Hey, Ray. How was the first day?" his father asked.
"The same as always," Ray said softly.
"I see… Listen, I have a favor to ask."
Ray's brow furrowed. "What kind of favor?"
---
The next morning, Ray stepped out of a cab in front of a luxurious, ultra-modern house in the heart of Taguig. He muttered under his breath, "Seriously… Why did I agree to this?"
He walked up to the massive steel gate and rang the doorbell. A few moments later, a white-haired man answered.
"Hello, sir. I was told by my father that you were an old friend… and that you needed some help?"
"Ah! You must be Ray! Of course—how could I forget? Come in, come in."
Ray stepped into the expansive living room, eyes drawn to the crystal chandeliers and sleek furniture. They both sat across from each other.
"I asked your father if you could tutor my daughter. She's… a bit behind in some subjects."
"I see," Ray said. "For how long?"
"No need for formalities. Just call me Uncle. I held you in my arms when you were just a baby," the man chuckled.
"Oh… right."
"I'm Christopher V. Everett."
Ray blinked. "Wait—Everett? As in…"
At that moment, a girl descended the spiral staircase. Long white hair, hourglass figure, radiant skin, and a doll-like face that would turn heads in any room.
"Dad, I'm heading out—" she paused, eyes locking onto Ray.
Ray stared in disbelief. "Rose…?"
Rose froze. "Ray…?"
The two stood in stunned silence. And behind them, Christopher Everett grinned.