A student stood beside the table, still as a statue. His black hair was combed neatly, swept to the left without a strand out of place. Thin, sharp-framed glasses rested on his nose, catching the light just enough to draw attention to his eyes; focused, unwavering. There was something rigid about him, like every movement was controlled before it even happened. His uniform was immaculate, pressed so cleanly it looked untouched by the day. He didn't just look disciplined, he felt like it.
Beside him stood a girl who matched him in presence, if not surpassed it. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, not a single loose strand escaping. Her posture was straight, almost unnaturally so, chin slightly raised as her cold eyes scanned the hallway. Where the boy felt strict, she felt distant—like she had already judged everything around her and found it lacking. The air around them felt… tense. Heavy.
"How… can I help you?" I asked.
