The heavy glass doors of Nijiku Academy open, and the hallway immediately shifts. The usual morning chatter drops to a low, electric hum.

Zanka Nijiku walks in.

He adjusts the strap of his designer backpack, his expression entirely unbothered by the dozens of eyes instantly locking onto him. In a school named after his own family, Zanka is royalty. His father is the city mayor, his eldest sister is literally the principal watching from the second-floor balcony, and his older brother is a rising star in the FBI. The Nijiku family owns the town, and Zanka owns the school.

"Did you see his car today? It's a new Aston Martin," whispers a girl by the lockers, nudging her friend. "My brother says his family has an underground bunker beneath their mansion."

"I heard he broke up with that influencer girl over text last night," another whispers back, leaning in closer. "They say he’s a total player. A liar, too. He promises girls everything and then just disappears."

"No way, I heard he’s actually never even been in love. That he just uses people to pass the time."

The rumors follow him down the hall like a physical trail, a toxic mix of awe and malice. To the student body, Zanka is a myth wrapped in a tailored uniform. They call him a cheater, a heartbreaker, a rich boy playing with ordinary people's lives. Yet, every girl in the hallway still fixes their hair as he passes, desperately hoping to be the one exception to his alleged rules.

Zanka keeps his eyes straight ahead. He’s heard every single rumor—that he’s a criminal mastermind, that he’s a hopeless romantic, that he’s a cold-hearted sociopath. He doesn't bother correcting any of them. Letting people believe the fiction is much easier than letting them see the reality of his suffocatingly perfect family.

He stops at his locker, spinning the lock. A pink, scented envelope slips out of the vent and flutters to the floor. Another confession note. He doesn't even look at the name before sliding it into his pocket to throw away later.

Suddenly, a shadow falls over him. He turns his head slightly, his sharp eyes cutting through the crowded hallway to look right at you.

"You're staring," Zanka says, his voice smooth, carrying a hint of a bored smirk. "Let me guess. You're trying to figure out if the rumors about me are true."

Will you find out if these rumors are true? Will you be rhe one to make him Crack?

What will you do?