The world the next morning was cruel.
Elias's name — once a quiet rumor — had become a stain.
Everywhere he walked, the weight of stares clung to him like a heavy, invisible coat.
Eyes filled with judgment.
Mouths twisted into fake smiles, barely hiding their sneers.
Even some professors glanced at him differently now, hesitating before calling his name during attendance.
Inside, Elias felt hollow.
Numb.
He didn't defend himself. He didn't post clarifications. He didn't explain anything.
What was the point? The people who wanted to hate him wouldn't believe him anyway.
---
Across campus, at the towering Business Building, another meeting was taking place — but unlike the petty schemes of Maxwell and Dana, this meeting was different.
A man in a navy suit, sunglasses covering half his face, sat at a private lounge table.
He scrolled through the same rumors and sighed impatiently.
"He's not ready yet," the man said under his breath, tapping a black card against the marble table.
"But soon."
Beside him, a woman with a tight bun and an expensive trench coat nodded.
"Do you want us to intervene?"
The man shook his head, a cruel little smile playing at the corner of his lips.
"No. Let him suffer a little longer. The boy needs to understand..."
He slid a photo across the table — a blurry image of Elias sitting beneath the oak tree last night, looking more alone than anyone in the world.
"...there's no rising without pain."
---
Back at campus grounds, Elias tried to disappear.
But fate, it seemed, wasn't ready to let him.
In the middle of his literature class, Professor Garland — a tough but fair woman in her fifties — paused mid-lecture.
Her eyes scanned the room sharply before landing squarely on Elias.
"Mr. Elias," she said, voice calm but cutting through the buzzing whispers.
"Care to explain why your name is trending on every student forum this morning?"
Every head turned.
Phones were subtly lifted.
Recordings began.
Elias stood up slowly, feeling the ground beneath him turn to glass.
He met Professor Garland's gaze. Then — shocking everyone — he bowed deeply, the traditional way, a gesture so pure it left a stunned silence.
"I have nothing to explain, Professor," he said quietly but clearly.
"My conscience is clean."
He raised his head.
His eyes — once soft — now burned with a stubborn fire.
"I will continue to walk my path… even if I'm alone."
A breathless stillness filled the room.
Even Garland seemed slightly taken aback.
After a moment, she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, and returned to her lecture without pushing further.
---
Later, as Elias packed his books, a note fluttered out from inside.
It wasn't his handwriting.
"Meet me behind the Performing Arts Building after sunset. You're not as alone as you think. – L"
His fingers tightened around the note.
For the first time all day, a fragile spark lit inside his chest.
---
The sun bled into a deep red as Elias made his way to the back of the Performing Arts Building — a rarely used spot where ivy climbed the stone walls and old benches rotted in peace.
The moment he stepped into the clearing, he saw her.
Lila.
Waiting.
She looked nervous but determined, hugging her books tightly.
The soft wind lifted strands of her hair, making her look almost unreal under the fading sun.
"I..." she began, voice shaking.
"I know what they're saying. And I don't care. I don't believe it."
Elias stared at her, caught between disbelief and something even more dangerous: hope.
Lila stepped closer, until she was right in front of him.
Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out —
— and pressed a small, wrapped box into his hands.
"Here," she whispered, cheeks flushed.
"It's not much. Just… something I made."
Elias looked down.
Inside the box, under a layer of soft paper, was a simple beaded bracelet.
Crude.
Handmade.
But it shone in the twilight like it was made of diamonds.
"For strength," Lila said.
The walls around Elias's heart cracked.
He swallowed hard, unable to find the right words.
But maybe he didn't need to.
Because for the first time in what felt like years, someone believed in him without asking for anything back.
And that was enough to remind him —
He wasn't broken.
Not yet.
He fastened the bracelet around his wrist carefully.
And somewhere deep inside, a quiet vow formed:
"I won't let them destroy me. No matter what it takes."
---