The Bronze Girls' Perspective
The ride home was unlike anything we'd ever experienced. The leather seats of the Rolls-Royce smelled faintly of cedar and perfume, the kind of scent that clings to luxury. Every bump of the cracked bronze district road softened under Xavier's expert hands on the wheel, but the real tremor was inside us. We sat close to them—the Marinos—our thighs brushing theirs, their hands warm and steady against our waists. It should have felt dangerous, intimidating. Instead, it felt like the world had tilted, like we'd slipped into a dream we weren't supposed to touch.
None of us spoke much during the ride. Valentina leaned her head against the window, lost in thought, while Isabella absentmindedly twirled her pen between her fingers as though she was still in class. Sofia, though, kept sneaking glances at us with a sly little smile, as if she knew a secret we didn't yet understand. When the car slowed in front of our neighborhood, whispers were already waiting. Bronze families peeked from windows, and children ran barefoot to the roadside, pointing with wide eyes. For once, their gazes weren't full of pity—they were full of awe.
Chiara broke the silence first, her voice soft. "Thank you… for today."
Valentina finally turned, her crimson lips curving slightly. "Don't thank us yet. You'll see soon enough how heavy this attention becomes."
The warning lingered in the air as Xavier helped us down one by one. Their hands lingered on ours longer than they needed to, and for a moment, even the broken street felt like a palace floor. When the car pulled away, leaving only dust and whispers behind, we stood still until it disappeared around the corner. That night, we gathered at Elena's small apartment. The furniture was mismatched, the lights warm and dim. Her mother had left a pot of soup on the stove, but none of us touched it. Instead, we sat cross-legged on the worn rug, still wrapped in the electricity of the day.
Elena ran her hands through her dark hair and let out a sharp laugh. "Did you see Amélie's face?" She looked like she was about to choke when they walked right past her."
Maya hugged a pillow to her chest. "But… aren't you scared?" Everyone's staring at us now. Silver students whisper. Gold girls glare. Even the seniors…" She trailed off, her sharp mind already calculating the risks.
Chiara, quiet until now, lifted her gaze. "I am scared." But when Valentina looked at me, it didn't feel like danger. It felt like… safety. Like no one could touch me."
The room fell into silence. Each of us knew what she meant. To be chosen by obsidian was to become untouchable. But it was also to carry a target on your back. Still, none of us could deny it: we were already too far gone.
Emiliano's Perspective
By the time Emiliano reached home, the sky was bruised with the colours of evening. His family's villa, nestled at the edge of the lake, glowed with golden light. Normally, it was a sanctuary. Tonight, it felt like a spotlight. He hadn't even crossed the threshold when his younger sister, Lucia, came running down the stairs, phone in hand. "Emi! You're on Instagram—everywhere! Look!"
The screen flashed with a photo snapped outside the senior hall: Emiliano standing with the Marino triplets, their gazes fixed on him like he was something precious. The caption burned in bold letters:
"The Marinos choose a senior? Obsidian eyes on golden Emiliano."
His heart sank.
In the living room, his parents were already waiting. His mother's hands twisted in her lap, her father pacing near the fireplace. His older brother leaned against the wall, arms crossed tightly.
"Emiliano," his father began, his voice firm but worried. "Tell us this isn't what it looks like."
Emiliano lowered himself into a chair, feeling the weight of every gaze. His long hair brushed his shoulders as he looked down at his hands. "It's exactly what it looks like. They called me. I went."
Lucia's eyes sparkled with mischief. "And you blushed."
"Lucia," his mother hissed, though her lips trembled between a smile and fear. She turned to him, her tone softer. "Do you understand what this means, hijo? If the Marinos have taken notice of you, you will never walk through this world the same way again. People will envy you. Some will hate you."
"I already feel their eyes," Emiliano admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But…" He hesitated, then lifted his gaze, revealing something his family rarely saw—steel beneath porcelain. "I am not as fragile as they think. I've been underestimated all my life because of how I look. Maybe obsidian noticed what others didn't."
His brother finally spoke, his tone sharp but not unkind. "You don't understand the danger. Obsidian interest is not affection—it's power. You'll be dragged into their world, their politics, their enemies."
Emiliano leaned back, his long fingers drumming lightly against the armrest. "And what if I want to be? What if I'm tired of being just the pretty one everyone whispers about? Maybe it's time I step into something greater."
The room stilled. For once, Emiliano's delicate beauty wasn't the focus. His quiet strength was. His mother reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "Then promise us one thing," she whispered. "If you walk this road, do not lose yourself in their shadows."
Emiliano smiled faintly, his eyes soft but resolute. "I won't". If they see something in me, then I'll make sure it's mine—not just theirs."
That night, when the villa finally quieted, Emiliano stood by his window overlooking the lake. The reflection in the glass showed his fine features, the delicate frame that so many dismissed. But beneath it, he felt the truth rising in his chest: he was not fragile.
And tomorrow, when he walked back into Le Rosey, he would prove it—to his family, to the school, and perhaps, to the Marinos themselves.