Crissante was utterly repulsed by Henry’s btant double standards.

  She was keenly aware of her average looks and had never been the object of much attention from boys her age. Unlike the naturally beautiful girls who always seemed to have a crowd of eager boys around them, Crissante had never experienced such preferential treatment.

  Some girls didn’t even have to fetch water for themselves. They’d leave their empty cups on the table, and by some invisible hand—though everyone knew it was a boy hoping to impress—the cups would be refilled.

  Today, Henry was clearly infatuated with Xanthia’s striking beauty. Feeling uncharacteristically magnanimous, he had decided to offer his “helpful” services. But Crissante couldn’t help but notice that Henry, the ever-diligent css representative, had never shown such concern for the academic well-being of other students before.

  It was obvious to her: Henry only cared about those he deemed a threat to his top rank. Those he saw as beneath him were utterly disregarded. When he did help others, it was half-hearted and performed with an air of superiority. When Jimmy had once asked Henry for assistance, he’d received a rushed expnation followed by visible impatience. Any attempt Jimmy made to crify would be met with a dismissive flex of Henry’s “Css Top 1” status.

  Eventually, Jimmy stopped seeking Henry’s help altogether and turned to Dematero instead. Dematero, unlike Henry, was patient and didn’t act as though tutoring was a burden. This was exactly what Henry had wanted. He despised spending his time on others, especially if it risked improving their performance enough to threaten his own.

  To Henry, his cssmates were rivals, not partners in progress.

  Now, suddenly, Henry was offering to tutor Xanthia. It was clear he thought of himself as a noble and self-sacrificing figure. He was rejecting the rest of the world but making an exception just for her. Surely, this was love at first sight!

  But of course, he was confident that no matter how much he tutored Xanthia, her academic abilities would never surpass his. After all, he reasoned, world had been “fair” in dividing blessings: Xanthia had beauty but couldn’t possibly have brains.

  Henry had met plenty of intelligent girls before, but they were rarely beautiful. At best, they were what he would call “neat” in appearance. Truly beautiful girls, in his view, spent too much time on their looks and were distracted by the attention they received from boys, leaving little room for academic focus.

  Just as Henry was savoring his self-importance, Xanthia interrupted him sharply.

  “I don’t like studying and have never aimed for good grades. Why would I need your tutoring? You’re interrupting my conversation with Crissante, and if you have any decency, you owe her an apology for your rude comments.”

  Crissante was deeply moved by Xanthia’s words.

  She grabbed Xanthia’s hand warmly. “Xanthia, you’re so kind. How about I treat you to a big meal next weekend?”

  Crissante, who had never known kindness from boys her age, felt genuine warmth radiating from Xanthia. In that moment, she thought Xanthia was perfect—a girl with both beauty and kindness.

  “Oh my... Xanthia’s hands are so soft and tender,” Crissante murmured as she held them, a little entranced.

  This, she thought, was the advantage of being a girl: the freedom to hold Xanthia’s hand so casually. Female privilege for the win!

  Meanwhile, Henry, still stinging from Xanthia’s rebuke, turned red with embarrassment.

  [Ding, pain points from Henry!]

  Henry’s expression darkened, and negative emotions surged within him.

  Apologize to Crissante?

  What a joke.

  Why should he apologize to someone who was, in his eyes, utterly unremarkable—cking in grades, looks, and emotional intelligence? He was the “Css Top 1,” a prodigy destined for one of the top universities in the country or even an elite international institution.

  He trained for math and physics competitions and, while not the best in those circles, still considered himself a “competition expert.”

  With such credentials, he saw himself as untouchable in Thessaloniki First High School, where academic prowess was everything.

  To Henry, a strong person should never bow to the weak. On the contrary, the weak existed to be humiliated.

  Henry ignored Crissante and turned back to Xanthia, determined to save face. Though he admired her, he refrained from speaking to her the way he had to Crissante.

  With an air of authority, he began lecturing her. “Xanthia, your attitude toward studying is deeply disappointing. It’s not your fault that your grades are poor, but having such a bad attitude is entirely your problem.

  “As far as I know, your familia isn’t well off. Your parents must have worked hard to get you into Thessaloniki First High School. Isn’t it disrespectful to them to throw this opportunity away?”

  Xanthia was momentarily speechless. Who was spreading these absurd rumors about her familia being poor?

  She never talked about her background because she didn’t want any association with her familia. Her mother was dead, and her father didn’t care about her. Why should she strive to please a father who had abandoned her?

  Before Xanthia could respond, Dematero, who had been listening in, finally stepped in.

  “Henry, as the study committee member, shouldn’t you treat others as you’d like to be treated? Xanthia has already rejected your help, yet you insist on bringing her parents into this. Was that really necessary? Some people just love to wrap their selfish motives in the guise of ‘doing good.’”

  As boys, they all knew Henry’s real intent. He had taken Jimmy’s seat to be closer to Xanthia and impress her, disguising his actions as altruistic.

  Dematero had done simir things before, like chatting with Glen to draw Elena’s attention. But unlike Henry, he never disturbed Elena. A simple exchange of gnces was enough for him.

  Henry, on the other hand, was outright disrupting Xanthia’s day.

  Dematero couldn’t let it slide.

  “Dematero, are you mocking me? You’re ranked seventh in css—how dare you interrupt me, the Css Top 1? Are you trying to use me as a stepping stone to look good? Get lost!”

  Henry, his insecurities exposed, grew agitated. Losing control, he shoved Dematero. He knew Dematero was gentle and unlikely to retaliate.

  But before the situation could escate further, Henry suddenly doubled over in pain. His stomach churned violently, and he lost control. To his horror, he ended up having diarrhea right on Jimmy’s seat.

  At that moment, Jimmy strolled leisurely into the cssroom, heading toward his desk.