Nazma still watched the lingering scent of Bright's perfume evaporate in the air, then turned to Celline. "Why was Bright moved to the special class, Celline?" Nazma asked curiously.
Celline snorted dismissively, her hands now shifting to take a small mirror from her bag.
"Because he's a troublemaker, obviously. Why else would it be?" she answered with a thick tone of disdain.
The special class at AB College indeed had a reputation that was both unique and intimidating.
In the eyes of outsiders, that class was nothing more than an "isolation cage" intentionally built to group problematic kids so they wouldn't infect other students.
However, the reality was far more complex than that. AB College itself held various exclusive subjects that would never be found in any regular class.
It could be said that it was a class glorified by parental stereotypes. To them, getting a child into the special class was an achievement, a guarantee that their child would be forged with relentless iron discipline.
"But I heard their curriculum is much heavier, right?" Nazma tried to recall the rumors she had heard.
"Heavier my foot," Celline cut in curtly, while lightly applying lipstick. "It's just like a prison, only the books are thicker. That Bright guy is just one example of its failed products. His brain is just wired to find ways to give people high blood pressure."
But Nazma didn't give a damn. She didn't care how prestigious the special class's reputation was or how harsh the discipline glorified by the parents there might be.
The most important thing was the fact that she had made it into Class A. The letter A. The first letter of the alphabet, said Nazma in heart.
Being a student in Class A in her first year of school was more than enough to make her heart swell.
It felt like being in one of the anime scenarios she often watched. She felt as if she were playing the role of the Main Character (MC), sitting in the elite class row, ready to start her own grand adventure. In her tiny world, Class A was her main stage.
The only thing hindering her anime fantasy was the seat placement.
In fact, in the unwritten laws of the anime world, an MC usually sits in the very back row, right in the far-left corner by the window, where they can daydream while staring at the sky, waiting for a major plot to come and find them.
And Nazma? She sat in the front row instead.
Right in front of the teacher's desk, a place where her every move was clearly monitored, and far from the mysterious vibe of a main protagonist.
No, no. The main reason Nazma sat in the very front row wasn't because she was forced to, but indeed because of her own desire. Her pair of eyes had a fairly serious vision problem.
Just look at the glasses perched on her nose. The frames were thick, with a gradient of brown on top and white on the bottom—exactly like the depiction of nerd MC characters in classic anime. Without that object, the world in front of the whiteboard would only be a blurry, unreadable blob of colors.
For Nazma, those glasses were her primary "combat gear" as a resident of Class A. Although sitting in front kept her far from the mysterious vibe of the corner-class hero, she still felt cool in her own way. In this front row, with thick lenses helping her capture every stroke of knowledge, she was composing her own plot as a calm and ambitious model student.
Nazma adjusted her glasses with her index finger, a reflex movement that somehow felt very 'iconic' in her head. Behind those thick lenses, her world was far more colorful than just a whiteboard and the fading scent of Bright's perfume.
"Naz, are you even listening?" Celline's voice shattered her daydream.
Nazma was startled, her world that had just turned into a shonen setting suddenly collapsed back into the rigid reality of Class A. "Eh, yeah, Cel? What?"
***