[SEPTEMBER 11> CONTINUE]
★–[Novara Institute for Literary Excellence
|Frascati,Italy|Confrence Room| 9:55 AM]--★
The morning sun filtered softly through the wide glass windows of the Novara Institute's sleek conference room. The walls gleamed with modern wood paneling and plaques of past achievements—national victories, international appearances, and the gleaming trophy of last year's Italian Writing Championship.
Around the long oval table, faculty members gathered, papers and tablets in hand.
At the head of the table sat Winston Caruso, the institute's proud and tactical school head.
> Winston (firmly):
"We need to implement the same strategy we used last year. It's what led us to victory—not just over local schools, but over the entire country. This year… we go international."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
> Angela Nikki Acceta (School Secretary):
"Sir, do you think any of the other schools might give us trouble?"
Winston leaned back, folding his arms.
> Winston (coolly):
"Hmm… Four of them, maybe. But most? No threat."
Angela narrowed her eyes slightly.
> Angela:
"And what about Luce Veritas Academy?"
The room paused. A moment of silence.
Then—
> Winston (laughing):
"Luce Veritas? Impossible. Every competition—they're always first-round exits. Weak. Unfocused."
He waved his hand dismissively.
Suddenly, a knock on the door. A junior assistant poked her head in.
> Assistant:
"Sir, Vice Principal Kang says she needs to speak with you."
Winston's laughter faded.
> Winston (low tone):
"Hmm…"
He gave a slight nod.
Silence followed.
His expression turned serious, as though something had just shifted in the air.
[Fade to black]
—
★–[Luce Veritas Academy | 10:20 AM | Section ALPH]--★
BEEP! BEEEP!
"Hey! Just go!"
BEEEEPP!"
From outside the classroom window, the chaos of the city spilled in — cars honking, vendors shouting, the hum of a bustling late morning.
Vendor (yelling): "Frutta fresca! Pesche, mele, uva!"
Ricky (groaning):
"What is that noise?! I can't focus in here!"
Another loud BEEP! echoed.
Ricky (covering his ears):
"Aghh! Seriously?! This is insane!"
Paolo (glancing over):
"It's so noisy outside… Huh? Ricky?"
Ricky (grumbling):
"What?"
Paolo (peering at Ricky's notebook):
"Wait—what's this?"
"'Frutta fresca…' You actually wrote down what the vendor just yelled?"
(Laughs) "You're losing it, man!"
Ricky (facepalming):
"Yeah. I know. I'm losing my mind. I can't concentrate… and I need to finish this draft before the competition!"
Paolo (teasing):
"Maybe write about fruit then. Make it deep. Metaphorical peaches."
Ricky:
"Shut up."
---
★–[Secretary's Office | Luce Veritas Academy | 10:32 AM]--★
The hallway buzzed with noise — students laughing, shouting, chatting in clusters like it was a cafeteria instead of an administrative office.
Inside the secretary's office, Mrs. Clara Rossi, a woman in her late 40s with sharp eyes and a tight bun, stood behind the counter, clearly losing her patience.
> Mrs. Clara Rossi (raising her voice):
"Hey! Hey! Everyone—please shut up!"
She slammed a folder on the table.
Mrs. Rossi:
"My God! This is a school office, not a concert!"
The room fell into awkward silence. A few students coughed. One nervously chuckled.
---
★–[Classroom | Section CHARL | 10:40 AM]–★
Inside the classroom, the professor stood at the front, passionately discussing the upcoming writing competition. Some students took notes. Others stared blankly at the board.
Jacob leaned back in his seat, muttering to himself while scanning the posted competition details on his tablet.
> Jacob (grumbling):
"Yeah… this is it. My way into the big league. But seriously? 500,000 views on a platform? That's insane…"
He groaned.
Jacob:
"Ahhh! Why does it have to be so complicated?"
Across the room, Selena glanced at him from her seat, her eyes narrowing slightly.
> Selena (thinking):
He's talking to himself again. Like a total lunatic…
But those eyes… they're strange. Familiar somehow.
Hmph. No. I don't remember knowing someone like that.
She turned away, shaking the thought out of her head — but not without one last lingering glance.
---
Professor Geo Venci Romano stood in front of the class, his tone commanding but calm, class, please stop talking.
Pause.
> Mr. Geo:
"Alright, kids—eyes on me. The school-level writing competition is scheduled for October 2, 2030.
Each section can only send two participants."
He tapped the board behind him as a slide with bold criteria appeared.
> Mr. Geo:
"To qualify, you must meet these requirements:
– At least 500,000 views on any publishing platform
– Must be a contracted author"
A wave of groans echoed through the room.
> Calie Blanche (raising her hand):
"Sir! That's not the same rule as before. Why the sudden change?"
> Sarah:
"Yeah! That's insane…"
> Charlie (calmly):
"Hmm. It's okay. Makes it more challenging."
> Bianca (snorting):
"How can you say that, Charlie? We can't even win the local competitions!"
Mr. Geo sighed and raised both hands to settle the class.
> Mr. Geo:
"Hey, hey! Just listen to me. I know what you're all thinking. Yes—it's tough, and no, we didn't make the rules.
This is a decision from IWO."
> Jacob (thinking):
"IWO?"
> Selena (muttering):
"What a bullsh!t organization…"
> Mr. Geo (nodding):
"They're strict—but they're the ones running the national and international stages. We follow."
Suddenly, murmurs spread across the class as fingers started pointing—first at Selena, then Jacob.
> Student 1:
"Let's nominate Selena and Jacob!"
> Student 2:
"Yeah! They're perfect!"
> Student 3:
"They totally click—chemistry is real!"
Laughter erupts.
Selena and Jacob turn to each other in shock.
> Selena & Jacob (simultaneously):
"What?! Me?!"
They both look around as the class continues to cheer and tease.
> Students (chanting playfully):
"Team SeCob! Team SeCob!"
Laughter continues as the screen slowly fades to black…
[FADE OUT]