We won.
We're the champions.
So simple. So natural.
No rhythm is too hard to handle — that's the confidence of Barry, the king of the dance floor.
And when you've got confidence, any kind of expression works.
Winning another dance-off, becoming the center of attention — it's practically effortless.
The dance party had reached its latter half.
After dancing most of the night, Maria was starting to fall behind Barry's pace — she was running out of stamina.
Still, after showing off and stealing the spotlight, it wouldn't be fair to overdo it. They should give the other students some time to show off their skating skills too.
Dance your youth away, kids.
Barry left the rink first, planning to walk to the parking lot, get his Maybach, pick Maria up, and drive her home.
That was the plan.
But just after he changed out of his skates and stepped outside, he barely made it a few steps before someone came rushing around the corner and—bam!
It happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly.
Barry wasn't paying attention. He didn't dodge.
No one could've imagined it — Barry, the dance king, let out a sharp "oof!" as an ordinary-looking girl knocked him flat on the ground.
The hit was so strong he went weak all over; it felt like all the energy in his body just short-circuited for a moment.
In the next instant, his instincts kicked in. He pulled himself together fast — couldn't let himself actually get hurt.
Who was this girl? How could someone have that kind of strength?
Barry instinctively wanted to jump back — fast, faster, fastest.
But he was already down on the ground, and before he could react, the girl followed through and fell right on top of him.
Now with her on top of him, where was he supposed to retreat to?
Was she trying to humiliate him in public?
Impossible! Barry would never allow that!
"What are you doing? You trying to start a fight in front of everyone?" he snapped, glaring at her.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!"
The girl — blond hair messy, dressed in plain, almost old-fashioned clothes — quickly scrambled up, apologizing over and over.
When she noticed the broken sunglasses on the floor, her face fell even further. They must've been his. She looked like she might burst into tears.
Barry's face darkened. Even in the dim hallway, his irritation was palpable.
The blonde girl, Carrie, shrank back, her neck tensing. She wanted to help him up but didn't dare. "I'll pay you back, okay?" she stammered.
Pay me back? Did she even know what she'd just broken? Those were limited-edition Armani shades!
"Unforgivable," Barry said coldly. "You didn't just knock me over — you broke my Armani."
Standing up, he looked her over. The idea that this plain, unimpressive girl had been the one to hit him — it didn't add up. She even vaguely reminded him of a less-polished version of Maria.
But the power from that collision… it had been enough to momentarily interrupt his dark energy flow, even if he had been caught off guard. That meant there was something special about her — something powerful.
Inside that small frame was an incredible, almost explosive energy — like raw, untapped magic.
If he compared her to Ailan, then this girl easily had a hundred times Ailan's potential; she just hadn't awakened it yet.
Barry's expression softened slightly. When he looked at Carrie again, she didn't seem plain anymore. His gaze deepened — like he was staring at a sleeping lion.
"What's your name? Your number? Where do you live?" Barry demanded, firing off questions like a detective checking records.
His anger was turning into something else — curiosity, even desire.
He could feel the stirrings of another contract forming within him.
"M-my name… I'm Carrie White," she said nervously.
"Good," he said smoothly. "I'm Barry Olga. Nice to meet you."
He reached out and took her hand, quietly sensing the hidden energy within her.
Yes — that power. That raw potential. Amazing.
He couldn't help but grin to himself. I love it.
"I'm not a bad guy," he told her gently, voice soft like a priest's in confession. "But we really should talk this out properly. If you're busy, how about we just exchange contacts first?"
His smile was calm, reassuring — impossible to refuse.
Carrie, blushing and flustered, couldn't say no.
---
My name is Emma Grossman, but my family calls me Sweet Bear.
No doubt about it — I'm cute and smart. Everyone says so.
I've always been a bright, well-behaved kid. I've won plenty of awards — the kind of child other parents like to brag about.
I have a loving dad and a nice aunt who adores me. But I don't have a mom. She died giving birth to me.
So the only image I have of her is the photo on our living room shelf.
Still, life goes on.
You have to smile through it.
A smile is power — it leaves a good impression.
I learned that early. I practiced my perfect smile in the mirror until it became my greatest weapon in social situations.
Combined with my intelligence, I've always been the top of my class — no question about it.
When I want something, I get it — whatever it takes.
That's who I am. That's who I'll always be.
But I have a secret — one I've never told anyone.
Because a secret stops being a secret the moment someone else knows it. Then it just becomes leverage — a weakness.
So I keep it hidden.
I don't feel empathy. I don't value life.
When something dies, I don't feel sad — it's no different from a pebble on the ground.
And sometimes… I lie. But I'm very good at hiding it.
Life was stable — until recently, when my dad hired a new nanny.
I hate her. I don't like her at all. I want her gone.
So, I've decided to use my brilliant mind to make that happen.
After thinking it over carefully, I came up with the perfect plan tonight — a plan that will make sure that little nanny, Lavia, is out of this house for good.