NOTE : this chapter will be long as it introduces the first two main character of first story and alot info and rest chapter won't be that long
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BAMM!!
The sound of a thick wooden stick slamming against the principal's desk echoed through the office like a gunshot.
The walls went silent.
Principal Mariyana Rosee stared over her glasses, her eyes locked on the two girls standing in front of her. Her jaw clenched. Her fingers tapped once against the polished wood, right next to the long stick that had started this mess.
"Enough. Both of you," she snapped. "This is an office, not a street brawl."
The girls didn't flinch.
On the left stood Celestene—tall, sharp-eyed, her school uniform spotless except for the blood drying on her knuckles. Her expression was blank, cold. The kind of face that made people shift out of her way without realizing why.
On the right was Luna—shorter, lean, her ponytail half-undone and her bottom lip slightly swollen. There was a scratch on her cheek, a bruise forming near her jaw, and yet... she was smirking like this whole thing was just mildly annoying.
Two girls. Too dangerous to stand on the same side.
Principal Mariyana folded her arms. "You do realize," she said slowly, "that you sent a senior to the infirmary. With a fractured arm."
Celestene didn't blink. "He's lucky it's just an arm."
Luna nodded. "I told her to aim for the face. She held back."
"Shut. Up."
The air thickened.
Mariyana leaned forward. "Do either of you want to explain why my office turned into a war zone today?"
They didn't speak. Instead, at the exact same time, they both raised their fingers and pointed—at each other.
"She started it," celestene said coldly
"She interfered," Luna said casually
Mariyana closed her eyes for a second, then looked at Luna. "Let's try this again. Why were you involved?"
Luna shrugged. "A guy gave me a letter to pass to her."
Mariyana frowned. "A love letter?"
"Yup. To her. From a senior."
Mariyana sighed. "So you broke a boy's arm because he... gave you a love letter?"
Luna crossed her arms. "He asked me to pass it to her. And then, he winked."
Celestene's lip twitched. Just a little.
"And," Luna continued, "he said—and I quote—'You're both basically the same anyway, right?'"
Mariyana raised a brow.
"So I slapped him with the letter," Luna finished. "Politely."
"And then?" Mariyana asked, eyes on Celestene.
"I broke his arm," Celestene replied.
Silence.
Mariyana stood up, voice tight. "Celestene… I should suspend you."
Celestene looked her in the eye. "But you won't."
"And why not?"
Celestene's tone didn't change. "Because you can't."
Mariyana stared. She hated it—but she couldn't argue.
Celestene was the adopted daughter of the owner of the school. The board wouldn't touch her. She wasn't above the rules, but she didn't bleed under them either.
Mariyana sighed again and turned to Luna.
"You, however... are not protected."
Luna's face dropped. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're being transferred," Mariyana said flatly. "By the end of this week."
"What?"
"Students complained. Teachers are tired. The board agreed."
Luna stared, her cocky mask flickering for the first time.
"For this?"
"It's not just this," Mariyana said. "But this was the final blow."
Celestene didn't react. No flicker. No glance.
Luna looked at her, waiting for something.
Anything.
But Celestene's gaze was on the wall—like she wasn't even in the room anymore.
Luna forced a smile. "Of course. I get kicked out because some hormone-drunk idiot thought passing love letters was a personality trait."
Mariyana sat back down. "You'll get your transfer papers tomorrow. You're done here."
The tension in the room dropped like dead weight.
Without another word, the two girls turned and left.
As they stepped into the hallway, the eyes of a dozen students turned to follow them—some wide with fear, some smug, others just hungry for gossip.
And Luna, bleeding and bruised, turned her head slightly and muttered just loud enough for Celestene to hear:
"Guess they finally got what they wanted."
Celestene didn't reply.
But Luna wasn't wrong.
The school had been waiting for this moment. To break the rumor. To split the myth in two.
And maybe... to see what happened when the girl who smiled was forced to walk away, and the girl who didn't was left behind.
At Crescent Hill High, two girls ruled the whispers of the hallways:
Celestene Vale and Luna Rivett.
They weren't best friends. Not really. But you couldn't mention one without the other's name floating nearby. Together, they were an enigma—a silent storm and a reckless flame, two forces strong enough to unsettle even the boldest seniors.
Celestene was tall, composed, and always eerily calm. Her hair was long and black, usually tied in a high ponytail or falling like a curtain behind her shoulders. Her sharp, glassy eyes held no warmth—just observation. Control. She walked the halls like she owned them—because, in a way, she did. Being the adopted daughter of the school's owner, she didn't play by the rules. She didn't break them either—she simply ignored their existence. Everyone knew: don't mess with Celestene.
Luna, on the other hand, was fire wrapped in sarcasm. Shorter, with messy dark hair and scuffed-up sneakers that violated the dress code on a daily basis. Her energy was unpredictable, her laugh too loud, her mood swings faster than the school bell. But no one ever called her weak. She had hands faster than gossip, and a mouth that could slice egos like knives.
They weren't friends. They didn't hang out after school or share secrets in the canteen. But somehow, they always ended up on the same side of trouble.
And one Tuesday, that trouble exploded.
A senior boy—cocky, popular, and allergic to rejection—decided he had a shot with Celestene. Instead of approaching her directly (which he probably knew better than to try), he handed a love letter to Luna, asking her to deliver it.
"Since you two are always together," he said, flashing a smug smile, "you're basically the same anyway, right?"
Luna blinked once.
Then slapped the letter across his face.
Hard.
The hallway froze.
The boy, embarrassed in front of his friends, punched her across the face.
That was his second mistake.
Luna lunged, fists flying. The two of them started throwing punches in the middle of the corridor. Bags hit the floor. Students backed away.
And just as Luna was knocked sideways into the lockers—Celestene appeared.
No words. No warning.
She moved like a shadow with purpose, grabbing the boy by the collar and slamming her knee into his shoulder, hard enough to knock him back.
He stumbled, grabbed a wooden stick from a nearby props cart—probably thinking she'd back off.
He was wrong.
Before he could even swing it, Luna caught the stick mid-air, holding it steady with both hands.
Celestene didn't flinch.
She stepped forward once—just once—and snapped the boy's arm with a single, calculated blow.
Silence.
The students watching? Too stunned to record it. Too scared to speak.
Blood. A crack. The sound of a body dropping.
And then, a slow, collective inhale across the hallway.
Because in that moment, the school finally realized—these two weren't just rumors.
They weren't tough girls playing games.
They were dangerous.
And now, they'd crossed a line.
And ended up in office