2
St. Augustine Academy was known for its sky–high tuition fees and rigorous admission process, which naturally kept the student population
small.
The entire high school division had only about 600 students.
Among them, the most famous were Ethan Monroe and his three closest friends.
Ethan, the golden boy, was the school’s heartthrob–charming, gentlemanly, and adored by all the girls.
Chris Langston, the artsy intellectual, was the principal’s son and had a brooding, poetic vibe that made him stand out.
Logan Brooks, the star athlete, had bronzed skin and a muscular build that made hearts race.
And finally, Ryan Chase, the senior class valedictorian, was both a top–tier scholar and devastatingly attractive.
Together, they were inseparable, and the rest of the school called them the “St. Augustine F4.” In my previous life, all four of them had conveniently “fallen” for me.
The rest of my classmates were overly friendly on my first day, going so far as to give me the best seat in the classroom–a spot with a perfect
view of the board.
But I knew better.
These people had treated me as a joke in my past life. My death had been tied to every single one of them.
12:43 PM
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So I played along, smiling politely on the outside while cursing them to hell on the inside.
At lunchtime, Ethan led me to his family’s private dining room on campus.
The table was overflowing with gourmet dishes, and sitting around it were his three loyal friends.
This wasn’t my first time here.
In my past life, Ethan had also brought me to this restaurant. I’d stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to act, surrounded by handsome boys and an intimidating spread of international cuisine.
I hadn’t dared move a muscle, let alone sit down. The entire meal, I’d been too nervous to speak or eat, instead watching Ethan for cues on
what to do.
Little did I know, every awkward moment had been caught on camera.
They had uploaded the footage to the school’s private online forum, mocking me for my “small–town ignorance,” my inability to use proper table manners, and my so–called “wannabe” behavior.
If they wanted a battle of public opinion, fine. Two could play that game.
This time, I pulled out my phone and started recording.
“Oh my gosh, is this truffle? It looks just like chocolate!”
“And this? French foie gras? Isn’t that just… fatty liver?”
“I can’t believe how lucky I am to receive such warm treatment from my classmates! Let’s all say thank you to our generous host!”
I looked up from my phone, aiming my most innocent smile at Ethan, whose expression had soured into something resembling constipation.
“Ethan, you’re so handsome. You wouldn’t mind if I shared this video to help everyone learn a little more about fine dining, would you?”
Ethan forced a tight smile, his jaw visibly clenched. “Of course not.”
In my past life, my high grades and desire to earn extra money for my family had led me to run a small social media account. Though it hadn’t made much, I’d gained a modest following at school.
Ethan and his crew had chosen me as their target because they wanted to tear down the positive, hardworking image I’d built online.
Well, if exposure was what they wanted, I’d give it to them–on my terms this time.
