The short break marked the shift from one subject to the next, giving students a moment to stretch before Global Tech Ethics began. Most in the room shared the same major, though a few came from entirely different fields; the school required every discipline to take the course. Chatter drifted across the rows while Mira sat at her desk, sipping from her thermos and flipping through her notes.

That peace didn’t last.

“Still pretending to be a fragile flower?” Raymond teased — wiry, messy curls, mischief in his grin. Without warning he swooped past her desk, snatched her notebook, and twirled it in his hand.
“Come and get it!”

He darted to the back of the classroom, weaving between chairs like he thought this was a sport.

Half the class looked up, amused and already entertained.

Mira didn’t chase him.

She calmly closed her thermos, set it down, and — silently — stood up.

Raymond froze mid-smirk.

Something in her posture — straight, unbothered, collected — made his confidence loosen just a little.

Mira didn’t rush.
She walked with unhurried calm straight to his desk.

Now every pair of eyes was on her.

Without looking at him, she picked up his things one by one: his tablet, a crumpled pack of seaweed chips, that limited-edition pen he always bragged about. She stacked them neatly, turning her back to the room as she did.

Then she faced him.

“I’ll count from one to ten,” she said evenly. “If my notebook isn’t in my hand, I’ll test the aerodynamics of your stylus.”

Raymond blinked. “Wait — you wouldn’t—”

“One.”

Snickers rippled through the room.

“Two.”

“Someone record this.”

“Three.”

Raymond looked at the pen with genuine fear. “Not the pen — Mira—”

“Four.”

Someone cheered, “Let her do it!”

The door slid open.

Adrian walked in.

His gaze swept over the tableau — Raymond going pale, Mira coolly holding a stack of his things, the class acting like a live audience.

“Five,” Mira continued, not even glancing his way.

Adrian raised an eyebrow and headed to his desk.

“Okay — okay!” Raymond rushed forward, practically panicked. “Fine! Here! Here! Take it back — don’t hurt my gear.”

Mira took her notebook with a satisfied little smile, then returned the rest of his things — carefully, deliberately — item by item.

The class applauded like she’d just won a tournament.

As she sat back down, someone muttered, “Note to self: don’t mess with her.”

Mira smirked and opened her notebook like nothing unusual happened.