Chapter Text
The easy lightness of the semester's early days slowly dissolved as the weeks bled relentlessly into midterms—the very first major academic hurdle for the freshman cohort. High-stakes stress settled over the architecture department like a heavy fog. The student lounge and drafting halls, once filled with casual laughter, were now packed with pale, coffee-fueled students cramming late into the night, buried under mountains of structural manuals, history texts, and draft printouts.
For Lena and Lan, the exam period took on a rhythm of its own. Or rather, Lan simply took control of Lena’s schedule. Lena quickly discovered that beneath Lan’s warm, easygoing exterior lay a stubborn streak of absolute determination—especially when it came to getting her way.
"Lan, really, I can just study in my apartment tonight," Lena had tried to protest early in the week, holding her heavy backpack as they walked toward the campus gates. "I don't want to keep intruding on your family."
Lan had stopped in her tracks, planting her hands on her hips and doubling down with an unyielding grin. "First of all, my grandma thinks you're her fourth grandchild now, so if you don't show up, she’s going to think I kidnapped you. Second, your apartment doesn't have an endless supply of iced matcha and home-cooked dinners. And third, we are studying together, end of discussion. The driver is right there, get in."
Lena had opened her mouth to reason with her, but seeing the bright, unstoppable force in Lan's eyes, she gave up entirely. Fighting Lan on these matters was an absolute exercise in futility. And so, sleepovers at the estate became a daily routine throughout exam week. Late into the night, spread out across the thick carpet of Lan’s room, they quizzed each other on building codes, debated spatial hierarchy, and memorized load-bearing equations until their eyes burned.
When the midterm results were finally published online, the general consensus across the department was hardly surprising. To anyone paying attention to the studio reviews and lecture discussions, the top ranks of the cohort were practically written in the stars.
Lena had secured the number one spot in the class, followed immediately by Miu in second, and Lan taking a brilliant third.
The only person in the entire university who was utterly unprepared for this outcome was Miu.
Miu was sitting in the plush leather backseat of her luxury sedan, watching the evening city lights blur against the tinted window, when the official grade roster notification chimed on her phone. She unlocked the screen with effortless confidence. She had left every exam hall feeling completely victorious. She had worked relentlessly, pulling grueling hours, backed by top-tier private tutors and access to industry-leading materials throughout her life. There was not a single doubt in her mind that her name would sit comfortably at the very top of the list.
Then her eyes hit the screen.
Schuett, Lorena
Taechamongkalpiwat, Natasha
Fraser, Lani
Miu froze. The digital characters blurred for a sickening second before sharpening into cruel clarity.
A sudden, violent wave of heat rushed to her face, her blood boiling beneath her skin with a scorching, suffocating intensity. Her thumb trembled slightly against the glass screen as she stared at Lena's name sitting proudly above her own.
How? the thought shrieked inside her mind, sharp and venomous. How is this possible?
She had sacrificed every spare second to perfection. She had written every essay answer with impeccable logic, cited every precedent with flawless precision, and executed every formula without a single mistake. She had given everything she had to prove her dominance. And yet, somehow, Lena—a girl who didn't even have access to proper digital drafting software until weeks ago—had managed to surpass her.
"Should I take the highway, Khun Miu?" her driver asked softly from the front, noticing her rigid silence through the rearview mirror. "Traffic seems heavy near the toll."
"Just drive," Miu snapped, her voice coming out colder and sharper than she intended.
She took a harsh, deep breath through her nose, forcing her hands to stop shaking as she gripped her phone. A dark, ugly suspicion began to twist in her gut. Were the results somehow biased? Had Professor Ananda and the rest of the faculty allowed their obvious infatuation with Lena’s "hand-crafted, humble charm" to unconsciously sway their grading metrics? It felt deeply unfair. Miu knew her papers were technically flawless. What could Lena possibly have written—what secret, mystical insight could she have offered—to earn those extra fractions of a point to take first place?
Miu turned her head away from the phone, staring out at the passing high-rises and towering concrete overpasses of Bangkok. The city lights flickered across her pale, rigid features, reflecting the storm raging behind her dark eyes. The quiet, polite smile Lena had given her outside the lecture hall returned to haunt her with renewed cruelty.
Miu closed her eyes, her jaw clenching until her teeth ached. The quiet rivalry she had tried to manage with sophisticated restraint was gone. Lena had taken the crown that Miu believed was rightfully hers, and as the car glided silently into the night, Miu swore to herself that second place was a humiliation she would never, ever suffer again.
The low, steady hum of the car engine merged seamlessly with the steady stream of Lan’s cheerful chatter. Lan was practically vibrating with a joy that belonged entirely to someone else, her enthusiasm filling every inch of the backseat. She hadn’t stopped talking since the moment she dragged Lena away from the posted results board, her voice a relentless tide of triumph.
"I told you! I literally told myself five minutes before the list went up!" Lan beamed, waving her hands emphatically in the dim interior of the car. "I said, 'Lan, prepare yourself, because Lena is about to obliterate everyone.' And what happened? You topped the entire class! My grandmother already knew, by the way. She’s making that sweet garlic pork you love, and no, you are not allowed to study tonight. We are having a movie marathon, and you are going to sit there and celebrate whether you like it or not."
Lena let out a quiet, breathless laugh, her voice a soft contrast to Lan’s boundless energy. "Lan, please breathe. You’re more excited about my grades than I am."
"Because I knew how hard you worked for them!" Lan insisted, nudging Lena’s shoulder affectionately. "You earned this. You deserve to relax for once."
Lena smiled, shaking her head affectionately at the overenergetic puppy she somehow found to balance her quiet, measured world. She looked down at the cool glass screen of her phone resting in her lap. The message from her parents sat near the top of her notifications—a succinct, warm congratulation that she had acknowledged with a quick reply. But her thumb didn't move toward the home screen. Instead, her eyes drifted back to the digital document of the class rankings.
There, just a few lines beneath her own name, rested another.
Miu.
Lena’s lips moved silently, whispering the name so softly that the sound was lost to the rumbling of the tires against the asphalt. Miu. It had a delicate weight to it, landing on her tongue like a falling petal. A slow, subtle smile touched the corners of Lena’s lips, quiet and unguarded in the shadow of the car’s leather interior.
She closed her eyes, letting the velvet darkness behind her eyelids carry her away from Lan’s voice for just a moment. Images of Miu began to take shape—the sharp, defensive posture Miu always maintained in the crowded hallways, the deliberate distance she kept from everyone else, the cool composure that seemed almost painted on. But Lena saw through the armor. She remembered the way Miu’s dark eyes softened when she thought no one was watching, the subtle, tentative curve of her mouth when she worked in the studio, and the gentle, cautious manner in which her fingers held a pen.
There was a profound, aching softness buried beneath Miu's quiet exterior—a hidden grace that Miu tried so carefully to protect from the harshness of the world. It was a secret Miu kept guarded behind tall walls, yet somehow, Lena’s gaze had bypassed every defense. Lena didn't just notice Miu; she felt the quiet rhythm of her presence, tracing the fragile lines of a soul that seemed to bloom only in the shadows.
"Lena? Hey, earth to Lena!"
A sudden, firm elbow nudged her side, shattering the fragile, poetic thread of her thoughts. Lena blinked her eyes open, her quiet smile fading into a mild, startled expression as she looked over at Lan.
Lan was leaning in close, eyebrows raised in mock suspicion. "Are you even listening to me? I asked if we’re watching a thriller or a comedy tonight. You look like you’re off in another dimension."
Lena swallowed hard, quickly locking her phone screen and slipping the device into her pocket. "Sorry," she offered softly, her voice light and calm once more. "I was just... thinking."
"About your grand victory?" Lan grinned, throwing an arm over Lena’s shoulder.
"Something like that," Lena murmured, looking out the tinted window as the city lights blurred into long, golden ribbons against the dusk.
The afternoon light poured through the tall floor-to-ceiling glass of the studio hall, painting long, warm slants of amber across the concrete floor. Dr. Mathinee stood near the interactive board at the front, her voice a steady, rhythmic hum as she navigated a dense lecture on building technologies and modern load-distribution systems. Across the vast room, dozens of laptops glowed in unison, the soft clicking of keyboards and scratching of styluses filling the quiet air.
As always, Lena had claimed the quiet table in the far corner, with Lan sitting right beside her. Tucked away near the edge of the building, it was the farthest spot from the high-tech digital fabrication lab—a distance that deterred most students who hated carrying heavy material boards back and forth. But for Lena and Lan, it offered something far more precious: peace, an unobstructed view of the sky, and freedom from the constant bustle of foot traffic.
Directly across the wide expanse of the drafting floor, positioned by the matching set of floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite wall, sat Miu. Though separated by a sea of empty tables and scattered blueprints, their stations rested in a clear, direct line of sight.
A sharp, familiar ache began to pulse behind Lena’s eyes. She reached into her canvas bag, her fingers searching fruitlessly before she remembered with a sinking heart that she had left her reading glasses sitting on her nightstand that morning. Though she didn't require prescription lenses for distance, prolonged exposure to bright screens strained her eyes quickly; an hour of continuous staring was usually her limit before the blue light began to sting.
Wincing slightly at the harsh glow of her laptop monitor, Lena set her gel pen down on her sketchbook and rested her eyes, lifting her gaze from the screen to look out toward the windows.
And there, framed entirely by the blinding radiance of the golden hour, was Miu.
Lena’s breath hitched in her throat, catching like a delicate thread. Her grip on her pen slackened completely, letting the tool roll silently across the wooden desk. The muffled sounds of Dr. Mathinee’s lecture, the rhythmic tapping of nearby keyboards, the low hum of the air conditioning—everything dissolved into an absolute, breathless silence. The world around Lena shrank until nothing remained except the figure illuminated on the other side of the room.
Miu sat perfectly straight, entirely absorbed in the building technology slides displayed on her screen. Her long, dark hair had been gathered back into a crisp, elegant ponytail, exposing the graceful, slender arch of her neck. The setting sun, dropping low over the Bangkok skyline, hit the tall glass at a direct angle, bathing Miu in a warm, ethereal halo of liquid gold.
She wasn't merely sitting in the light; she seemed to be glowing from within.
Lena stared, hopelessly trapped in a silent trance. In that golden illumination, Miu’s usually deep brown eyes transformed into a luminous shade of light amber, striking and warm. The soft, delicate contours of her face—features that Miu worked so tirelessly to hide behind a mask of cold aristocratic perfection—were laid bare in the light. Lena’s gaze traced the smooth, flawless slope of Miu’s nose, the dark flutter of her extraordinarily long eyelashes as she blinked, and the natural, soft pink hue of her lips, parted slightly in quiet concentration.
Growing up in the high, mist-shrouded mountains of Chiang Mai, Lena had witnessed some of the most breathtaking sights nature had to offer: fiery dawn skies breaking over deep green valleys, crimson sunsets painting mountain ridges, and pristine, starry nights away from city lights. Yet, sitting in a quiet university studio, Lena felt with absolute certainty that none of those wonders could ever compare to the living, breathing artwork sitting across the room. Miu didn't look like a rival, nor a classmate. She looked like an ancient goddess carved from light and grace, temporarily resting among mortals.
Lena’s lips parted slightly, her chest rising in a slow, faint breath, her heart beating with a strange, reverberating quietness.
Minutes stretched on, suspended in the amber warmth of the afternoon. As Dr. Mathinee’s voice faded into distant background noise, Lena remained completely lost in the vision before her, content to let her burning eyes rest on the quiet, luminous presence across the floor, hopelessly captivated by a beauty that seemed to belong to another world.
A strange, prickling sensation suddenly tickled the nape of Miu’s neck, a subtle instinct warning her that someone’s gaze was pinned directly onto her. Frowning slightly, she lifted her eyes from the glowing blueprint on her laptop screen and looked across the wide expanse of the drafting hall.
Sitting at the far corner workstation, framed against the window on the opposite side, was Lena.
Miu expected to see a sharp, competitive glare or perhaps the calculated indifference of an academic rival. Instead, what met her gaze left Miu entirely speechless. Lena was staring directly at her, but her dark eyes were soft, wide, and luminous, holding an unmistakable sense of quiet wonder. It was a look so devoid of malice, so brimming with pure, reverent awe, that Miu felt her heart skip an erratic, unexpected beat.
For several long seconds, Lena remained completely motionless, so deeply spellbound that she didn't even register Miu looking straight back at her with open confusion.
Then, the realization finally snapped.
Lena’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated panic as she caught Miu staring back. A violent, deep crimson flood surged up her throat, instantly staining her cheeks and turning her ears a bright, fiery red. Shaking her head in a desperate bid to clear her mind, Lena slammed her gaze down onto her keyboard, clutching her notebook as if she could physically hide her entire body behind the thin paper.
Beside her, Lan turned her head, catching the sudden flurry of frantic movement. Her jaw dropped slightly as she took in the sight of her friend, whose face had transformed into the exact shade and texture of a ripe, overcooked tomato.
"Whoa... Lena?" Lan asked, her voice squeaking in genuine concern as she leaned in close. "Are you having an allergic reaction? Do you need me to call an ambulance? You look like you're about to spontaneously combust!"
"I'm fine!" Lena squeaked out, her voice an octave higher than usual as she kept her face buried toward her chest. "I... I just suddenly felt really hot."
Lan blinked, her eyebrows pulling together in utter, bewildered disbelief. She slowly looked up at the ceiling vent directly above their table, which was currently blasting arctic air down onto them at full capacity, making the loose papers on their desk flutter. She looked back at Lena, who was practically radiating heat.
"Hot?" Lan repeated, her tone dripping with deep, comedic skepticism. "Lena, it's literally nineteen degrees in this room. My fingers are currently numb. If you feel hot right now, you might actually have dengue fever."
Sighing, Lan reached into her side pocket and shoved a chilled metal water bottle into Lena’s trembling hands. "Here, drink this before your brain boils inside your skull. Honestly, I don't know how you survive."
Lena nodded frantically, taking a heavy gulp of water without daring to lift her head an inch higher.
Meanwhile, across the studio floor, Miu remained frozen in her seat, her hand hovering over her trackpad as her head tilted in genuine confusion. She had watched the entire sequence unfold—from Lena’s sudden, hysterical panic to her frantic attempt to bury herself in her work. Even from fifty feet away, Miu could see the tips of Lena’s ears glowing like burning embers against her dark hair.
Miu stared, her mind racing to process what had just happened.
What unsettled her most wasn't Lena’s clumsy panic, but the lingering memory of the gaze itself. There had been no hostility in those eyes, no arrogance of a class topper, no hidden mockery. It had been a look of profound, gentle warmth—a gaze so terrifyingly soft that it had somehow bypassed every single defense Miu possessed, making her chest feel strangely light, exposed, and deeply seen.
A sudden, terrifying bloom of warmth unfurled in the quietest, most hidden corner of Miu’s heart.
Miu’s jaw tightened instantly, a surge of sharp, defensive anger rushing in to crush the feeling before it could take root. No, Miu thought fiercely, her fingers digging into the edge of her desk as she forced her eyes back to her screen. No way. There is no way Lena sees me like that.
She scoffed silently under her breath, forcing a cold, cynical logic to take over. It was impossible. Lena was a strategist. She was probably sitting over there right now, analyzing Miu’s posture, calculating her next move, or quietly plotting how to secure first place in the upcoming design review. That look had just been a trick of the light—a distraction designed to throw Miu off her balance.
Yas, that had to be it. Lena was purely a rival, an obstacle to be conquered.
Yet, as Miu stared rigidly at her structural diagrams, the stubborn, lingering warmth deep in her chest refused to fade, and Miu hated every single second of it.
In the weeks that followed, a quiet, unbidden habit began to bloom within Lena—one that took root slowly, creeping into her daily existence until it became as natural as breathing. She found herself observing Miu.
It was almost unconscious at first. No matter how deeply Lena was immersed in her drafting notes or structural calculations, her senses would instantly sharpen the moment Miu entered a room. Her eyes, acting on a magnetic pull of their own, would unfailingly seek out Miu even in the thickest campus crowds. Lena would sit in the bustling faculty courtyard or the noisy cafeteria, her head bowed over her sketchbook, while her ears subtly strained past the ambient chatter just to catch the rare, melodious sound of Miu’s laugh.
They were polar opposites in how they moved through the world. Lena thrived in the quiet shadows, a gentle introvert who preferred solitude or the comfortable bubble she shared with Lan. Miu, on the other hand, was like blinding afternoon sunshine. She never walked alone; an effortless court of admirers, friends, and upperclassmen always surrounded her. Miu possessed a rare, regal charisma—a natural presence that allowed her to step into any room and effortlessly make it her own, filling the space with light, laughter, and an undeniable aura of authority. Sitting from afar, Lena couldn't help but be hopelessly mesmerized by it.
"Lena, if you stare at your soup any longer, it’s going to start staring back," Lan remarked one afternoon in the cafeteria, waving a plastic spoon in front of Lena’s face.
Lena blinked, pulling her gaze back to their table, a slight flush warming her neck. "I was just... thinking about the structural load homework."
"Right, structural load," Lan said with a dramatic, teasing grin, leaning in closer. "Is that why your eyes were drifting three tables over toward the girl in the custom-tailored uniform?"
"Lan, please," Lena whispered hurriedly, taking a nervous sip of her water. "I wasn't staring."
"You don't have to hide it from me," Lan giggled, shaking her head as she picked up a spring roll. "She’s hard to miss. She basically walks with her own personal spotlight."
Across the crowded room, Miu sat at a central table surrounded by Oom, Luke, Nene, Ice, and a few upperclassmen from the student council. Yet, despite the lively conversation around her, Miu was not entirely unmindful of her surroundings. She was acutely, almost painfully aware of Lena’s presence wherever they happened to be.
It was frustratingly easy to track Lena. The provincial girl rarely interacted with anyone outside of her tiny circle, keeping entirely to herself, with Lan as her sole constant companion. But what drove Miu mad was the lingering feeling of being watched. On multiple occasions—whether across the library concourse, near the studio lockers, or in the lecture halls—Miu would catch a faint ripple in the air and look up, only to catch Lena looking straight at her.
Yet, the second Miu returned the gaze, Lena would instantly avert her eyes, burying her face in a book or turning frantically to talk to Lan, leaving Miu to wonder if she had simply imagined the entire thing.
Sitting at her cafeteria table as Luke jabbered on about an upcoming sports festival, Miu felt that familiar prickle on her skin again. She glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of Lena standing by the beverage counter, her dark hair falling softly over her shoulders as she waited for her tea.
"Miu? Did you hear what I said?" Luke asked, tapping the table lightly.
Miu snapped her head back toward her friends, adjusting her pristine collar with a flick of her wrist. "Sorry, Luke. My mind was elsewhere."
Why does she keep doing that? Miu thought bitterly, her jaw tightening as she picked up her fork. Is she trying to get under my skin? Is it some psychological tactic to make me lose focus before the next design phase?
She forced the thoughts down, building a wall against the strange, intrusive warmth that tried to creep into her chest whenever she remembered the gentle softness of Lena’s eyes. She didn't have time for mind games, and she certainly didn't have time to analyze the quiet girl from Chiang Mai. Lena was an opponent—a formidable, highly skilled threat that stood between Miu and the top spot in the department.
Miu took a quiet, decisive breath, locking her focus back onto her friends' conversation. Lena Schuett was someone she needed to defeat on the drafting board, not someone she needed to decode and understand.
The tension in the evaluation hall was thick enough to choke on. The end semester design presentation had reached its climax, and the entire first-year cohort sat frozen in their seats, holding their breath.
At the center of the room, two presentation boards stood side-by-side on the display stands. The resemblance between them was unshakeable. The floor plans, the structural geometry, and the unique sweeping cantilever roofs bore unmistakable, undeniable similarities.
Miu stood before the boards, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, her chest heaving with absolute, white-hot fury. She turned her head, her dark eyes flashing with a terrifying, venomous rage as she glared down at Lena.
"Explain this," Miu spat, her voice ringing out through the dead silent room like a whip crack. She raised a trembling, manicured finger, pointing aggressively at Lena's display board. "Explain to me how your design is a near-identical clone of mine! How did you get my concept files?"
Lena stood paralyzed. Her mind went completely blank, the blood draining from her face until she was as pale as chalk. She opened her mouth, but her throat had constricted into a tight knot, no sound escaping her lips. Her hands trembled violently against her sides. She had spent weeks sitting on the floor of her tiny, cramped apartment, hand-drafting every single line, calculating every vector until her eyes burned. How could this be happening? How could her work—her blood, sweat, and sleepless nights—look like a copy of Miu's?
Miu took Lena’s horrified silence as a blatant admission of guilt. A cold, bitter scoff tore from her throat as she stepped closer, towards the trembling girl.
"Nothing to say?" Miu sneered, her voice dripping with cruel, unfiltered malice. "Unbelievable. You really are a pathetic fraud, aren't you?"
Gasps rippled quietly through the room, but no one dared to speak as Miu unleashed her full, suffocating wrath.
"You have zero original talent!" Miu yelled, her aristocratic composure completely shattering into a barrage of hateful insults. "You sit there playing the humble, quiet intellectual, trying to gain sympathy from everyone and brown-nosing the professors just to hide what you really are—a desperate failure who has to steal other people's work to stay afloat! You thought you could just leech off my effort?"
Lena felt as though she had been struck in the chest with a heavy iron bar. The harsh words bruised her soul, tears welling in her wide, terrified eyes. The girl she had admired from afar, the girl she thought possessed a quiet, hidden softness, was tearing her to shreds in front of the entire department.
Miu stepped even closer, her eyes narrowing into cold slits of absolute disdain. "If you were really that desperate for my design, Lena, you should have just asked! I would have gladly handed you my scrap drafts and called it charity!"
Miu threw her head back, letting out a sharp, mocking laugh that cut straight through Lena's heart. "Is this how you operate? You come here from abroad, strutting around like you're superior to everyone else ? You think your family's wealth gives you the right to look down and underestimate what I can do? Let me clarify something for you: you may have money to throw around, but you have absolute zero talent!"
Because the administration kept scholarship records strictly confidential, Miu—along with the rest of the class—still operated under the assumption that Lena was just another ultra-wealthy international student who simply preferred a low-profile lifestyle. The irony of Miu’s words struck like a physical blow.
Lena flinched violently, a tear finally escaping her eye and tracing down her pale cheek. The humiliation was unbearable. To be accused of theft was agonizing enough, but to be screamed at as a talentless, spoiled rich girl—when she was literally starving herself some days just to buy model materials—was a pain so profound it threatened to snap her in half.
Standing a few feet away, Lan was paralyzed in sheer shock, her blood running cold before turning into a roaring, protective rage. Her hands curled into tight fists. She wanted nothing more than to step up and scream the truth in Miu’s face—to tell Miu that Lena wasn't some wealthy kid from abroad, that she was a scholarship student from a small Northern village who worked ten times harder than Miu ever had to earn her place here.
But Lan forced her tongue to stay still. Revealing Lena’s financial status right now, in the middle of a public execution, would only humiliate Lena further. It would give Miu and her elitist circle fresh ammunition to mock Lena as a desperate outsider trying to force her way into a high-society world. Besides, Lan had literally sat beside Lena for weeks, watching her draft every single curve of that model from scratch. She knew for a fact Lena hadn't stolen anything.
"Miu! That is enough!"
Professor Ananda’s thunderous voice broke through the air as he slammed his palm onto the main evaluation table, standing up with a stern, rigid expression.
Miu snapped her head toward the faculty, her chest still heaving, her eyes wild with unspent anger.
"I will not tolerate this kind of uncivilized behavior in my studio," Professor Ananda said sternly, his eyes sweeping over both girls. "Design similarities happen, Miu. You are all taking the exact same lectures, analyzing the exact same case studies, and learning the exact same structural frameworks under the same faculty. Overlaps in spatial logic are not uncommon for first-year projects."
"Ajarn, this isn't just an overlap—" Miu tried to argue, her voice sharp with indignation.
"I said that is enough!" Professor Ananda cut her off firmly, his tone leaving no room for debate. "We will evaluate both submissions based on their individual execution and technical calculations. The presentation session is officially dismissed for today. Everyone out."
The studio slowly began to drain, students whispering frantically among themselves as they packed up their things. Miu gave Lena one final, icy look of complete contempt before spinning on her heel and marching out of the room, her friends quickly scrambling to follow her.
The moment the heavy wooden doors swung shut, Lena’s knees finally gave out. She collapsed onto her chair, burying her face in her hands as silent, heartbreaking sobs racked her slender frame.
Lan rushed to her side instantly, throwing her arms tightly around Lena’s trembling shoulders. "I know, I know," Lan whispered fiercely, her own eyes stinging with tears of anger and grief. "I'm so sorry, Lena. She's wrong. She's completely, horribly wrong, and I'm not going to let her get away with this."
Making no sound, Lena just wept into her hands, the echo of Miu’s cruel, furious words burning in her mind, shattering the quiet admiration she had harbored for a girl who now only felt like a terrifying nightmare.
The vast studio hall was completely silent now, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning unit and the heartbroken, ragged sobs echoing off the concrete walls. Everyone had fled, eager to escape the suffocating aftermath of the storm, leaving only the two girls sitting on the polished floor. Lena pulled her knees tightly against her chest, her fingers clutching at her uniform skirt as if trying to anchor herself to the earth.
"I didn't steal it... Lan, I swear I didn't steal it..." Lena choked out, her voice barely a raspy whisper, broken and hollow. "I worked on it... every single night... on my floor..."
"I know, Lena. I know you didn't," Lan said fiercely, her arms wrapped firmly around Lena's shaking shoulders, pulling her close. "I was there with you, remember? I saw you draw every single line. I saw you cut every piece of wood until your fingers bled. She’s wrong. She’s completely, horribly wrong."
Every word Miu had screamed continued to loop in Lena’s head like a relentless, deafening tape. Fraud. Desperate failure. Zero talent. Spoiled rich girl. The cruelty of it clawed at Lena's chest, squeezing her lungs until the room began to tilt. The image of Miu’s glowing, golden face—the face Lena had looked at with such quiet, reverent awe—was now replaced by eyes full of cold, venomous disgust. The contrast shattered something deep inside her.
Suddenly, a sharp, suffocating weight settled over Lena's chest. Her throat felt as though it had completely closed up. She opened her mouth to draw in air, but nothing came—only short, frantic, shallow hitches. The edges of her vision began to blur into dark, vibrating spots, and a cold sweat broke out across her forehead. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs, so fast and erratic that it felt like it was going to burst.
"Lan..." Lena gasped out, her fingers wildly gripping Lan’s sleeves as her chest heaved frantically. "I... I can't... I can't breathe..."
Lan’s eyes widened as she felt the sheer, violent tremor running through Lena’s body. She recognized the hyperventilation instantly. Panic attacks were terrifying, and right now, Lena was drowning in her own lungs.
"Lena! Look at me," Lan said sharply, shifting her position so she was kneeling directly in front of her. She reached up and took Lena’s cold, trembling face between her hands, gently forcing Lena’s tear-streamed eyes to meet hers. "Lena, look at my eyes. Right here. Focus on me, okay?"
Lena tried to nod, but her chest was hitching too fast, her body gasping for oxygen that refused to enter. Terror seized her mind; she felt as though she were dying right there on the cold floor of the studio.
"Listen to my voice, Lena. You are safe. I'm right here with you," Lan said, keeping her tone firm, calm, and steady despite the wave of panic trying to swallow her too. "We are going to breathe together. Okay? Follow me. Inhale... slowly..."
Lan took a deep, exaggerated breath through her nose, holding it, keeping her hands firm on Lena’s cheeks.
"Come on, with me. Inhale..."
Lena tried, letting out a pitiful, ragged gasp.
"Good, keep going. Through your nose... 1, 2, 3, 4... hold it," Lan commanded softly, staring directly into Lena’s wide, terrified eyes. "Now blow it out through your mouth. Slowly, Lena. Like you're blowing out a candle. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... That's it. Again."
For agonizing minutes, the quiet studio filled with the rhythm of Lan’s steady instructions and Lena’s desperate attempts to follow them. Slowly, excruciatingly, the air began to reach Lena’s lungs again. The sharp, suffocating pressure in her chest started to ease, though her entire body remained weak, trembling violently as the sheer exhaustion of the ordeal crashed over her.
"There you go," Lan whispered, her voice softening as she wiped a stray tear from Lena’s pale cheek. "Just like that. You're doing so well, Lena. Just keep breathing."
Lena let her head drop forward, resting her forehead against Lan’s shoulder. She was completely drained, her body feeling as light and fragile as dry leaves. "I feel... so sick, Lan..."
"I know.. I've got you," Lan murmured, gently rubbing Lena’s back as Lena’s breathing finally normalized into quiet, exhausted hiccups.
Lan looked around the empty room, her eyes hardening as they landed on Lena’s hand-crafted model board sitting near the front. She knew they couldn't stay here another minute. The air in this room was poisoned, tainted by Miu’s venom and the lingering stares of their classmates. Lena needed to be out, away from the university, away from anything that reminded her of this nightmare.
"We are going home," Lan said decisively, carefully helping Lena lean back against the chair so she wouldn't collapse. "Stay right here. Don't move."
Lan moved with swift, efficient precision. She gathered Lena’s scattered gel pens, packed up her sketchbook, and gently disassembled the presentation boards, sliding them safely into their protective carrying cases. She grabbed both of their bags, slinging them over her own shoulders without a second thought for the weight.
Returning to Lena’s side, Lan knelt down and gently took Lena’s hand, pulling her up with careful strength. Lena’s legs wobbled beneath her, almost giving out entirely, but Lan caught her around the waist, supporting most of her weight.
"I've got you," Lan whispered, wrapping an arm securely around her friend as they began to walk slowly toward the heavy studio doors. "Let's go. My driver is waiting downstairs, and we are going straight to my house. You don't have to think about any of this anymore today."
Leaning heavily on Lan, her head drooping against her friend's shoulder, Lena let herself be led out into the afternoon light, her spirit entirely broken, leaving behind the shattered pieces of her quiet world in the dark, silent studio.
Miu stormed down the vacant hallway, her heels clicking violently against the polished floorboards like a ticking bomb. Pushing open the door to the first empty lecture hall she found, she threw her leather portfolio onto a desk with a deafening crash. Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving as the rage inside her threatened to consume her entirely.
How could Lena do something so brazen? To take Miu's dedication, her sleepless nights, and her vision, and present it as her own—it was an unforgivable betrayal. But what made Miu's blood boil even hotter was Professor Ananda's spineless intervention. Overlaps in spatial logic? It was a joke. It was an insult to her intelligence.
Luke, Nene, Ice, and Oom filed into the room behind her, their faces etched with deep concern. They quickly shut the door to block out the whispers of passing students.
"Miu, please, just sit down for a second," Nene pleaded softly, reaching out a hand. "You're shaking."
"I don't want to sit down!" Miu snapped, her dark eyes flashing with dangerous heat as she turned on her friends. "Did you see what happened there? Did you hear what Ajran said? He literally excused her! He protected a thief!"
Oom stepped forward cautiously, lifting her hands in a soothing gesture. "Miu... I know how upset you are, but... is it possible there was some kind of misunderstanding? I mean, you both worked on your projects for weeks, maybe—"
"A misunderstanding?" Miu erupted, her voice cutting through the room like a blade as she snapped at Oom. "What do you think, Oom? How come both designs looked so similar?! The structural framework, the sweeping roof line, the cantilever ratios—they were nearly identical! You don't just accidentally draft the exact same complex geometry as someone else!"
Oom flinched, stepping back into the shadow of Ice, who winced at Miu's outburst. Seeing that Miu was completely beyond the reach of logic or comfort right now, Luke stepped between Miu and the rest of the group.
"Okay, that's enough for today," Luke said firmly, his tone calm yet resolute as he placed a gentle, steadying hand on Miu’s shoulder. "Miu, you are furious, and rightfully so, but staying here spiraling isn't going to fix anything. I'm taking you to your car. You need to go home, rest, and let the faculty handle the review."
Miu opened her mouth to argue, but seeing the unwavering, protective look in Luke's eyes, the fire in her throat momentarily subsided into a bitter, tight knot. She snatched her portfolio off the desk without another word and allowed Luke to escort her down to the parking garage.
Late that evening, the grand Taechamongkalapiwat estate was alive with soft classical music, glowing chandelier light, and the quiet clinking of crystal glasses. Miu’s parents were hosting an exclusive dinner for a select group of high-profile corporate partners and political allies. Among the distinguished guests were the Kittismapans—including Win.
Unable to stomach the fake smiles and corporate pleasantries, Miu slipped out through the French doors of the main lounge, seeking refuge in the vast, manicured gardens at the back of the property. She sat on a stone bench near the fountain, her silk dress rustling in the cool night air as she stared blankly at the dark water.
Hearing heavy, deliberate footsteps approaching on the gravel path, Miu didn't even turn around.
Win stepped into the soft glow of the garden lanterns, holding two glasses of sparkling water. He offered one to her, his lips curved into a sympathetic, understanding smile. "I figured I'd find you out here away from the board members."
Miu took the glass, her fingers icy against the crystal. "You already know what happened today, don't you? The whole department is probably talking about it."
Win took a slow sip, nodding heavily. "I heard. It’s insane, Miu. I couldn't believe it when someone told me Lena presented a model that looked almost identical to yours."
Miu turned to face him fully, her brow pulled into a frustrated furrow. "Win... I don't understand. How could our designs be so similar? You were the one who gave me the foundational inspiration concept weeks ago. You sent me those initial structural sketches, and I developed my entire project around that base layout. How could she have the exact same base?"
Win’s expression remained perfectly smooth, a masterclass in feigned contemplation. He tapped his chin, letting out a quiet, thoughtful hum. "Well... think about it, Miu. You were working on your draft files in the open studio several times last month, weren't you? Lena is always lingering around the fabrication lab. She probably saw your screens, or caught a glimpse of the printed base layouts you were working on, and quietly copied the core geometry."
Miu stared at him for a long moment, the explanation clicking into place like the final piece of a sinister puzzle. It made utter, horrifying sense. Lena had seen her work, recognized the brilliance of the structural base Win had shared, and stole it.
"Of course," Miu whispered bitterly, her jaw tightening as she looked back at the fountain. "She saw it in the studio."
Win nodded smoothly, taking another sip of his drink, hiding the dark, triumphantly cruel smirk that threatened to break across his face.
What Miu did not know—what no one in the entire department knew—was that the "base inspiration" Win had generously gifted to Miu weeks ago had never belonged to Win at all. It was Lena’s work from the very beginning.
Unlike the rest of the tech-savvy students who drafted exclusively on digital software, Lena preferred traditional, hand-drawn architectural sketches, meaning her raw concepts left no digital timestamps or cloud logs. Win, despite his arrogant persona, was an abysmal student when it came to structural modeling. His professors frequently forced him to stay late in the studio to revise his failed, clunky assignments.
During one of those late-night punishment sessions, the studio had been completely empty, save for Lena working quietly in the far corner. When Lena stepped away from her desk to use the laser cutter across the hall, Win had casually strolled past her workstation. Resting on her drafting board were pages of breathtaking, revolutionary structural sketches—hand-drawn with brilliant precision.
Recognizing pure genius when he saw it, Win had immediately pulled out his phone and snapped high-resolution photos of her pages. Initially, he had intended to plagiarize the designs for his own second-year submission. But after watching Miu's growing obsession with outperforming Lena, a far more sinister idea had taken root in his mind.
Win had passed the stolen base concepts to Miu under the guise of a benevolent, supportive senior offering a "rough inspiration framework." He knew Miu’s high-tech, modernist style would refine the base into something magnificent, while Lena would naturally build her own physical model using the exact same hand-drawn foundations. Win had deliberately constructed a ticking time bomb—setting up the ultimate trap to ensure Miu would view Lena not as a respected peer, but as a deceitful, dangerous parasite.
"Don't let her get to you, Miu," Win said softly, his voice dripping with poisonous warmth as he rested a hand on her shoulder. "You're a Taechamongkalpiwat. She's just a nobody trying to steal a light she could never generate on her own. You'll crush her in future reviews."
Miu took a deep breath, the night air cooling the rage in her lungs, solidifying it into something cold, hard, and unyielding. She looked at Win and gave a single, resolute nod. "She won't get away with it next time. I'll make sure of it."
The cool night air brushed against Lan’s face as she stood out on the balcony, leaning her elbows on the stone balustrade and staring up at the pale, full moon hovering over the city. She let out a long, heavy sigh that rattled in her chest. No matter how many times she replayed the entire month in her head, her sharp, analytical mind could not find a single logical explanation for how Miu and Lena’s designs could be so terrifyingly identical.
Lan had been there from day one. She had sat beside Lena on the bedroom floor, surrounded by discarded tracing paper, watching Lena sketch every line, fail, revise, and start over from scratch. The concept was born purely from Lena’s own mind and heart.
Turning around, Lan looked through the sheer glass doors into her guest bedroom. Lena was lying still under the heavy duvet, fast asleep. It had taken hours for Lan to bring her back from the edge of that suffocating panic attack—hours of patient murmurs, forcing her to drink warm tea, coaxing her to eat a few bites of soup, and brushing her hair until exhaustion finally pulled her under. Seeing her friend like this—usually so grounded and strong, now looking impossibly small, fragile, and utterly drained—made Lan’s heart ache with a fierce, protective agony.
I am not letting Miu get away with this, Lan swore silently, her jaw setting into a hard, unforgiving line.
There was zero possibility that Lena had plagiarized Miu’s work. But if Lena hadn't copied Miu... had Miu copied Lena? Lan rubbed her temples, frustration mounting. That didn't quite line up either. As much as Lan despised Miu right now, she couldn't deny that Miu possessed genuine, formidable talent. A girl with Miu’s immense pride and technical skill had no reason to steal someone else's draft. None of it made sense. The pieces of the puzzle simply refused to fit together, leaving a dark, toxic stain over everything.
A soft rustle of bedsheets drifted through the open door, breaking the heavy silence of the night.
Lan immediately stepped back inside, sliding the glass door shut to keep out the chill. Walking over to the bed, she saw Lena sitting up slightly, her dark hair falling messily over her shoulders.
"Hey," Lan whispered softly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and gently pulling the blanket back up around Lena's shoulders. "You should be sleeping, Lena. It's barely three in the morning."
Lena blinked slowly, looking up at her friend. The bright, observant light that usually filled her dark eyes was completely gone, replaced by a hollow, vacant look, as if the spirit inside her had been violently ripped away by the day's cruel events.
"Lan..." Lena’s voice was raspy, dry, and heartbreakingly fragile. "I didn't copy her... I swear... I didn't steal anything..."
"Stop," Lan commanded softly, taking Lena's cold hand between both of hers and squeezing tightly. "Stop saying that right now. You don't ever have to defend yourself to me, Lena. I was there. I watched you build that project from a blank piece of paper. I know you would never, ever do something like that. I trust you with my life, okay?"
A sudden, hot flare of rage surged back into Lan’s veins, making her voice harden. "Miu crossed a line today. She publicly humiliated you, called you a fraud, and dragged your character through the dirt in front of the entire department. I am not going to let her walk away like she did nothing wrong. Tomorrow, I'm going straight to Professor Ananda, and then I'm going to confront Miu face-to-face—"
"No!"
Lena’s fingers suddenly tightened around Lan’s hand with surprising force, her wide, desperate eyes locking onto Lan’s face. She shook her head frantically, panic rising in her chest once again. "Lan, please... please promise me you won't do anything."
Lan frowned, bewildered. "Lena, what are you talking about? She practically declared war on you!"
"I don't care about the war, Lan! I care about you!" Lena begged, her voice trembling as tears welled up in her exhausted eyes. "You... you grew up in New Zealand, Lan. You don't fully understand how things work here. The Taechamongkalpiwat family isn't just rich—they hold power over everything. They have influence in politics, in the university's board of directors, everywhere! People like them can ruin someone's life with a single phone call!"
Lena pulled Lan's hand closer to her chest, her voice breaking into desperate sobs. "If you go after Miu, her family will destroy you, or they'll pull strings to have you expelled. I can handle being called names, Lan, but I cannot live with myself if my best friend gets hurt or loses her future just because she tried to defend me. Please... just promise me you'll stay out of it. Please."
Lan opened her mouth to protest, her blood burning to fight, to protect, to tear down the arrogant girl who had broken her friend. But looking down at Lena—seeing the genuine, terrifying panic in her eyes, born entirely out of fear for Lan’s safety—the words caught in Lan's throat.
Lan closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath as her shoulders slumped in defeat. Reluctantly, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against Lena's.
"Okay," Lan whispered, her heart aching at the bitter taste of helplessness. "Okay, I promise. I won't do anything. I won't cause a scene."
Lena let out a weak, tearful breath of relief, leaning her head against Lan’s shoulder as the dark exhaustion pulled her back down toward sleep. Lan held her tightly in the quiet darkness of the room, her eyes wide open, staring into the shadows as a cold, dangerous resolve settled deep within her soul. She would keep her promise not to make a scene, but she knew this storm was far from over.
The world did not end with a thunderous collapse, but in the quiet, suffocating stillness of a single afternoon. For Lena, the atmosphere of the university—once filled with artistic promise and quiet ambition—had transformed into a minefield of shadows and sharp edges.
Before that fateful evaluation, Miu had been Lena’s silent compass. In every packed lecture hall, through the dense sea of unfamiliar faces and golden sunlight streaming through grand windows, Lena’s eyes had always, instinctively, anchored themselves to Miu. It had been an involuntary pull, a habit born of a deep, reverence-filled admiration that Lena had harbored in the secret corners of her heart. Miu’s name had lived in Lena’s thoughts like a falling petal—soft, luminous, handled with delicate awe, spoken only in the quietest whispers of her mind. In the noisy bustle of the architecture studio, amidst the clatter of scale rulers and drafting paper, Lena’s ears had been finely tuned to a single frequency: the light, melodious chime of Miu’s laugh. Hearing it had felt like a secret gift, a gentle warmth that washed over Lena’s exhausting, sleepless nights.
Now, everything was ruined.
The studio became a cage of suffocating memories. The girl who once stood tall with quiet dignity now shrank into the darkest corners of the room, ducking her head behind tall drafting boards whenever heels clicked down the corridor. The mere sound of Miu’s voice—once a comforting melody that could brighten Lena’s gloomiest days—now caused a visceral, painful flinch, sending a cold spike of panic straight through her chest. Miu’s name was no longer a soft petal resting on Lena’s lips; it had mutated into a cluster of jagged thorns, threatening to draw blood every time it crossed her thoughts. It took only one single afternoon, a handful of venomous accusations, and a storm of cruel assumptions for Miu to completely dismantle Lena, breaking her fragile spirit and scattering the pieces into the dark.
Yet, as the days bled into weeks, the tragedy of that afternoon cut far deeper than the broken heart of a scholarship student.
Miu moved through her luxurious, pristine world completely blind to the ghost she had created, unaware of the profound tragedy she had set in motion. In her ruthless quest to protect her pride, in her blind fury fed by calculated lies and whispered deceptions, Miu had wielded her anger like a broadsword. She believed she had simply cut down a parasite, an ambitious outsider who dared to copy her genius.
She did not realize that the girl she had publicly crucified was the very person whose destiny was inextricably bound to her own. She did not know that Lena was the central axis around which her future universe was fated to turn—the anchor, the sanctuary, the very reason she would be breathing for the rest of her life.
By driving her heel into Lena’s heart, Miu had not merely destroyed the gentle girl who had looked at her with pure, unselfish adoration. She had severed her own anchor. She had cast away the one soul meant to hold her steady when her own gilded world inevitably cracked. In her eagerness to tear Lena apart, Miu had unwittingly carved out her own heart, leaving herself hollow, standing victorious in an empty room, completely unaware that the girl she had banished was the only light she would ever spend the rest of her life searching for in the dark.