Flora thought the worst was behind her.

The online chaos had finally gone silent, and after the unknown sender wiped everything clean from the forum, she'd allowed herself to hope that maybe things would go back to normal.

But peace never lasts long.

The next morning, the quiet cruelty began again not behind screens this time, but in the halls she had to walk every day.

---

It started small.

As she handed in her homework after first period, a sudden splash of sticky liquid stained the paper.

The student beside her gave a halfhearted smile, holding an empty juice box. "Oops. My hand slipped."

The class snickered. She said nothing. Just wiped the juice off her sleeve and placed the ruined sheet on the teacher's desk before returning to her seat or rather, to where her seat should have been. Teacher isn't in class.

Her desk had been pushed outside the classroom.

She froze for a moment, then quietly dragged it back in, ignoring the laughter that rippled around her. The legs of the desk screeched against the floor, loud enough to cover the sound of her heart cracking a little more.

If they were waiting for her to break, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Not today. Not ever again.

---

When self-study period came, she escaped to her usual refuge the art room.

The one place she thought they wouldn't follow her.

She reached for the handle, already feeling the relief of solitude waiting behind that door.

The moment she pushed it open

Splash!

A bucket overturned from above, spilling cold water mixed with chalk dust and detergent all over her.

The shock stole her breath. Her uniform clung to her skin, her hair dripping in water mixed with detergent. The acrid smell burned her nose as laughter erupted behind her.

"Maybe try washing your attitude next time!" someone shouted.

Her vision blurred from the water.

She stood there, trembling, humiliated, staring down at the puddle gathering around her shoes.

A tremor ran through her, not fear, but fury she had worked so hard to keep locked down.

Then sharp glint passed across her eyes, she refuse to stay silent this time. 

But air changed before she turned, ready to confront them, ready to finally let everything she'd swallowed spill out—

Step.

A shadow crossed the floor.

Conversation died instantly.

---

Shane stood in the doorway, his gaze flickered over the scene, the overturned bucket, the puddle at her feet, the tremor in her shoulders, and something in his expression sharpened before smoothing into neutrality.

His tone when he spoke was sharp enough to cut through the laughter.

"Which one of you thought this was funny?"

No one answered.Silence.

"This is harassment," he said, tone clipped, official.

"Violation of conduct. Risk of injury. Property damage."

"It was just a joke," one of them muttered weakly.

Shane's lips curved not in a smile, but in something cold and almost dangerous. "Then you won't mind cleaning up your joke. Every drop of it. Now."

The weight in his voice made even the boldest of them lower their heads.

Without waiting for them to move, he took off his blazer and draped it over Flora's shoulders.

"Come on," he said softly, guiding her toward the hall. "You'll catch a cold."

She didn't resist. The warmth of his jacket felt too gentle to question.

"Clean this up," he ordered looking back.

And report to the student union office after school.

---

In the infirmary, she sat on the bed, wringing water from her sleeves while Shane stood beside the window, hands in his pockets.

"You should file a complaint with the student union," he said evenly. "Discipline and student conduct fall under our responsibility."

"Our?" she echoed, voice still trembling. "You mean yours."

He turned his head slightly, that faint smile playing at the corner of his lips. "My duty as vice president, remember?"

It was a polite smile sweet on the surface, but something about it made her heart skip a beat.

She didn't know why, but it felt like there was more behind his calm than he let anyone see.

Still, she managed a small smile of her own. "Thank you. For earlier… and now."

His gaze softened for a moment. "You don't need to thank me, Flora."

Then, just like that, he looked away expression unreadable again.

Rumors spread like wildfire but this time, it wasn't about Flora.

---

the students who had tormented her were facing something they couldn't laugh away.

One girl found her private messages mysteriously leaked.

Another's phone froze permanently on a screen of corrupted code.

The ringleader who'd rigged the bucket prank received a sudden call to the principal's office. he was suspended for "past incidents of bullying," backed by detailed evidence no one knew existed.

Whispers filled the corridors again, but this time, no one dared to look at Flora when she passed.

And she… had no idea any of this was happening.

The day had nearly ended when the sun tilted across the administration wing, throwing long bars of light through the glass.

Inside the principal's office, the air smelled faintly of old files and floor.

---

That day, as flora got into her car after school, the sun dipped low behind the building.

From the rooftop above, a faint figure leaned against the railing phone in hand, eyes following her every movement.

When she closed the door and the car drove off, his screen glowed faintly.

Unknown: "Told you I'd protect you, yet I was late, but I took care of them."

"I keep my promises."

Only if she had turned back and looked up at the rooftop she could have seen a man standing there looking at her direction.

He watched her car disappear down the street before sliding the phone back into his pocket.

The faint curve of a smile formed, but it wasn't warmth it was something quieter, deeper. The phone screen dimmed, and the figure slipped away into the fading dusk.

Unnoticed by Flora.

Some promises were gentle. Some… were meant to bind.