“Senior Zion Oren is absolutely perfect.”

“He's good-looking, academically outstanding, and comes from an exceptional family”

“I heard his family is powerful in the UK, and they have quite a bit of influence here in AVALON too.”

“Yeah, even Trevor Moore from the Moore Group shows him some respect.”

Layla Evans could only catch snippets of conversation from the swooning girls around her. She didn’t even hear what the legendary senior Zion Oren was saying on stage. Instead, she found herself gazing at him from afar, momentarily starstruck.

Layla sighed inwardly, This senior really is handsome. Even though it’s too noisy to hear what he’s saying, just watching him feels like a treat.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed with an incoming text. 

“Babe, I’m warning you—don’t you dare look at other guys at school. You’re my woman now, and if you try anything funny, you’ll regret it.”

It was a message from Trevor Moore. He had been feeling uneasy at work, worried that his little wife might be flirting with other boys at school, so he sent her a stern warning. 

Layla glanced at the text and panicked, looking around nervously. How does this guy know everything? I was just thinking about how cool Zion Oren is, and he immediately sends me this message!

She sneaked a few more glances at Zion to indulge herself, then quickly texted Trevor back, "I wouldn’t dare!"

After that, Layla didn’t dare lift her head to look at Zion Oren again. She knew Trevor wasn’t physically there, but the impact of his message was real enough. She’d learned her lesson from previous disobedience and wasn’t about to test him again.

By 11:30 AM, the opening ceremony finally came to an end. Though there were no classes that afternoon, each class would hold an orientation meeting. It was especially important for the freshmen, who didn’t know the rules or their classmates yet.

Layla gave Angel Sanders a call, inviting her to lunch. Angel had been eager to meet up with Layla anyway, wanting to exchange first impressions of their new schools, so she happily agreed.

The two met at the gate of the Foreign Language Academy and headed to a nearby food stall to have some spicy rice noodles. Most of the students from Dervay Saints Academy flocked to the upscale restaurants in the north part of the street, while students from the Foreign Language Academy preferred the more affordable food stalls on the southern side, where lunch was cheap and cheerful.

Angel was wearing a light blue dress embroidered with subtle silver flowers. In the lingering autumn heat, it gave her a refreshing and cool vibe. While they waited for their noodles, Layla began teasing her.

"Hehe! Angel, why are you all dolled up today? Trying to charm all the boys in your department on the first day? Come on, spill it—have you already set your eyes on one of the seniors?" 

"Pfft! Do you really think I’d be that shallow? Regular guys don’t even register on my radar," Angel scoffed. "It’s just that starting tomorrow, we have two weeks of boring military training, wearing those hideous olive-green uniforms every day. So I figured, why not dress nicely today for myself? How do you like this dress? I bought it with the money I earned working at the hotel this summer." 

Though Angel spoke dismissively about the upcoming training, there was a hint of excitement in her voice.

"Military training? How come our school didn’t mention anything about that? At the ceremony, they only said we’d have class meetings this afternoon to get our textbooks and schedules. They said classes officially start tomorrow." Layla looked a bit disappointed. With her playful and active nature, two weeks without classes, just marching around the field, sounded like a dream come true. Even getting sunburned didn’t bother her.

The waiter brought over two bowls of spicy rice noodles, and Angel took a sip before speaking again. "That’s because you go to a fancy university. Everyone there is spoiled; they wouldn’t survive something like military training. Your school’s motto is 'luxury and comfort.' Only we 'normal' universities get stuck with the tough stuff."

"That’s true," Layla nodded. "But I really don’t fit in with those rich kids. I doubt I’ll make any friends there. I’ll probably end up visiting your school all the time, so you better look out for me!" 

"No problem—but lunch is on you," Angel joked.

Layla grinned. "Deal. I’ll even treat you to dessert afterward. How about smoothies?"

“Whoa, Layla! Did you win the lottery?" Angel asked, wide-eyed. "Sort of!" Layla giggled. "I’ll treat you more often from now on—get ready to enjoy it!"

 With over ten million on the credit card Trevor Moore gave her, Layla was much more generous these days, though she still tried to be frugal. Angel was her closest friend and had been there for her when she was kicked out of her home and struggling. Now that she had money, Layla was determined to repay her friend’s kindness.

"It looks like your dad had a change of heart," Angel remarked. "Good thing, too. It was painful to see you—a rich girl—living more frugally than me. I couldn’t stand it."

Layla froze for a moment, feeling guilty. I hope you’ll forgive me for not telling you the truth, Angel. I’ll tell you everything one day..

"By the way, our school clubs are recruiting new members, and I can’t decide where to go. I want to join the student council, the tennis club, and the public speaking group. But I have classes and need to work part-time, so I can’t do it all. What do you think I should pick?" Angel asked, seeking Layla’s advice.

“Definitely the student council," Layla answered without hesitation.

“"Why the student council?" Angel asked, surprised. Given Layla’s playful nature, she had expected her to recommend the tennis club.

"Don’t you remember what that manager at Hously Hotel told us during training? She spent all four years in the student council and became the vice president. She said it really helped her get a good job after graduation. You want a good job too, right? Then you should go for the student council."

Angel thought for a moment and nodded. "You’re right. I need a good job after graduation to support myself. I can’t be reckless—I need to start planning from the beginning. Okay, I’ll give it my all and try to join the student council!" She clenched her fist in determination, striking a triumphant pose.

"What about you, Layla? You’ve got your dad’s support now—you don’t need to worry about money. What kind of club will you join?"

“Me? I don’t know yet. I guess I’ll just figure it out as I go." Layla secretly wanted to join a fun club, but the thought of dealing with those arrogant rich kids made her hesitate. In her heart, she was already prepared to be a lone ranger at Dervay Saints Academy.

After spending some more time chatting, Layla and Angel parted ways and headed back to their respective schools. On the way back, Layla couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. If only I’d studied harder back then, I could’ve gotten into a regular university and shared this experience with Angel.

Layla Evans followed the class schedule she received during registration and headed to Room 602 in the First Teaching Building. With the class meeting starting at 2:00 PM, she arrived precisely at 1:55 PM. The room was already almost full, but since most students had chosen to sit toward the back, she had no choice but to take a seat in the front row by the door.

A few minutes later, a young woman with a fresh, elegant vibe walked into the room, smiling warmly as she stood at the podium.

This was Jocelyn Shawn—only 21 years old, a recent graduate from the renowned Stanford University with a Bachelor’s degree in Literature. She had just been hired by Dervay Saints Academy to serve as the homeroom teacher for Layla’s class.

Though Jocelyn had graduated from a prestigious university abroad, she only held an undergraduate degree and lacked any family connections. As a result, the school didn’t assign her to teach any core courses, instead putting her in charge of managing these wealthy, privileged students as a full-time homeroom teacher. However, driven by passion, she had proactively applied to offer an elective course on Film and Literary Appreciation.

“Alright, everyone, please settle down,” Jocelyn clapped her hands lightly, drawing the class to a quiet murmur.

Despite being new to teaching, she displayed remarkable confidence, showing no sign of being intimidated by the affluent students before her.

“Bang!” The classroom door suddenly slammed open as it collided with the wall, creating an awkward sound that broke the calm.

“Is this Class One?” Reed Franklin leaned against the doorway, sweat dripping from his forehead, clutching a basketball under one arm.

“Yes, but you’re ten minutes late. Please try to be more punctual next time. Go ahead and find a seat,” Jocelyn responded without giving him a hard time. Reed, however, didn’t seem to care and strutted into the room as if he owned the place.

With no seats left at the back, he plopped down casually in the open spot right next to Layla.

Layla instantly frowned. This was the same rude guy she had run into earlier at the assembly hall—the one who had kicked her while she was sitting on the ground after Lily Evans stomped on her foot. Her left shoulder still ached slightly from the impact.

 She shot an irritated glance at Reed, puffing her cheeks with annoyance. Yet Reed paid her no attention, reclining in his chair and casually spinning the basketball between his hands, entirely unbothered by her glare.