"THE HOUSEN ACADEMY CULTURAL FESTIVAL 2024"

    The room was abuzz with energy, conversations bouncing off the walls as the teacher stood in front of the class, a large banner sprawled across the board behind her. "The Housen Academy Cultural Festival 2024!"

    The announcement had barely left her lips when the class erupted into cheers and enthusiastic screams. Students were on their feet, clapping, whistling, and chattering in excitement.

    "Alright, alright, calm down, everyone!" the teacher called out, her cheerfulness making her sound more like a friend than an authority figure. But the students paid her no mind, throwing questions her way without pause.

    "What kind of games will there be?"

    "Are there prizes for winners?"

    "Is there a costume event this year?"

    The teacher pressed a finger to her lips, a light smile curling at the edges as she placed her free hand on her chest. The way she tilted her head, the soft curve of her fingers against her lips—it was a gesture so effortlessly cute and, dare I say, seductively charming, that it silenced the class in an instant. Even the most loud ones of my classmates found themselves staring, captivated.

    "Alright, thank you for settling down," she said, her tone light as she glanced around the room, clearly amused by our sudden acceptance. "Let me explain everything."

    She stepped aside, revealing the banner more clearly. "The Housen Academy Cultural Festival will take place next month. It''s a three-day event filled with countless activities, games, and performances."

    Her words were met with murmurs of anticipation, a few students already whispering plans to one another.

    "Here''s the catch," she continued. "Each of you will be placed into a group of five, and you must participate in at least three events. The twist? Your group won''t consist of your usual friends or classmates—it''ll be random students from across the college."

    The announcement was met with a collective gasp.

    "Wait, what?"

    "No way!"

    "Random groups?"@@@@

    The teacher chuckled at the uproar, shaking her head. "I know it might seem strange, but this is a chance to meet new people, build teamwork, and make memories outside your usual circles. Besides," she added with a wink, "rules are rules."

    She began listing the events on the board.

    "There will be:

    A Tug of War

    Maya (Medical Branch 1-C)

    Claire (Mechanical Branch 3-A)

    "Hmm," I muttered, reading through the names. "Zayn and Claire are from the same branch, so I''ll look for them together later. Closest to me now is Natasha from Arts. She is my senior as well. Let''s start there."

    The campus was lively, students huddled in groups, discussing their trams and throwing introductions. I passed by several of them, my expression casual and a bit bored.

    "Let''s see what this event holds for me," I murmured, heading towards the Arts building.

    When I reached the 1-A classroom, I leaned against the doorframe, scanning the room. A cluster of students was gathered near the front, chatting animatedly.

    "Excuse me," I called out to one of them. "Is Natasha here?"

    A couple of girls turned to look at me, their expressions shifting almost instantly. I caught the glint of admiration in their eyes as they exchanged quick glances.

    "Are you... Austin?" one of them asked, her tone laced with a shy excitement.

    I smiled faintly, nodding. "Yeah. So, Natasha—where can I find her?"

    The girl pointed towards the back of the room. "She''s probably in the club room. She spends a lot of time drawing there."

    "Thanks," I said, flashing a polite smile before turning to leave. I quickened my pace, the lingering stares from the girls making the situation more tiring than it needed to be.

    *Knock* *Knock* The club room door was slightly ajar when I arrived. Knocking lightly, I waited for a response.

    "Come in," a soft, melodic voice called out.

    Pushing the door open, I stepped inside and immediately paused.

    Sitting by the window, bathed in the soft glow of afternoon sunlight, was Natasha. She was unlike anyone I had seen before. Her long, dark hair was tied loosely behind her, a few strands framing her face. She wore thick-rimmed glasses that highlighted her bright, focused eyes.

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    Her outfit—a sleeveless, V-neck backless mini dress—hugged her figure tightly at the top, tightening her curves before flaring out into a skirt at the end, reaching the middle of her thighs. Her smooth, flawless skin glowed in the golden light, and her posture was effortlessly elegant, one leg crossed over the other.

    In one hand, she held a paintbrush, its tip dipped in a vibrant shade of blue. Her gaze shifted to me, her eyes meeting mine.

    I stood there, unable to tear my gaze away from her. Something about the way she looked, the way she carried herself—it was captivating.