In the morning at Saint-Clair High School, everything followed a precise rhythm:
the low murmur of students, the sharp click of polished shoes, the scent of coffee drifting from the entrance hall.
And at the center of this almost choreographed tableau, Keisha Delor made her entrance.
Her walk was unhurried.
She had no need to rush.
When she moved forward, the corridor seemed to reorganize itself around her, as if even the noise knew it had to fall silent.
She wore the standard uniform—black pleated skirt, white blouse, navy blazer—yet on her, everything appeared more refined, more deliberate.
A silk ribbon tied in place of a tie, a soft and rare perfume, and that calm gaze which always spoke more than her words.
"Look at her… Keisha. She looks like she was born to be watched," one student whispered.
"She's not human, she's an Ainis," another replied.
Keisha heard them, of course.
But she did not react.
Compliments and criticism slid off her like rain on glass.
She took her seat in the classroom, near the window.
Vanessa, her best friend, joined her with a discreet smile.
"You know the girls from the committee want to copy your style again for Friday's party?"
"Let them try," Keisha replied calmly. "Elegance isn't an outfit. It's an attitude."
Vanessa laughed softly.
"And Leandro? He gave you that look again this morning."
Keisha lifted her eyes, perfectly detached.
"Leandro watches everything he wants to control. That's his weakness—not mine."
At that exact moment, Leandro walked into the room.
His uniform slightly undone, his confident gaze, that insolent smile that could both unsettle and irritate.
He stopped right in front of Keisha's desk.
"Still on your throne, Delor?" he said with irony.
"Still standing, Morel?" she replied without raising her voice.
The class held its breath.
Those two never spoke without tension filling the air.
A dangerous, elegant game—almost choreographed.
"You know," Leandro said, "people are starting to think you're a legend. Maybe it's time to remind them you still breathe."
Keisha's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Legends don't breathe, Leandro. They are carved into memory."
He fell silent for a moment.
Then he smiled, amused, and went to sit down.
But in his eyes, there was something else.
Curiosity. Fascination. Perhaps even weakness.
Keisha felt it. And for the first time in a long while,
she felt her heart beat a little faster.
That day, she didn't know it yet,
but the throne of Saint-Clair was about to tremble.
Not because of an enemy…
but because of a gaze she would no longer be able to ignore.
If you want, I can also:
adapt it for Webnovel / Wattpad standards
make it more sensual, darker, or more dramatic
or polish it specifically for a first chapter opening
Just tell me.