Xanthia was a girl burdened with insecurities, a truth that did not elude Dematero's observant eye. Her nervous demeanor was genuine, devoid of any pretense; she simply cked the cunning to project a false facade.

  Dematero, endowed with a vivid imagination and keen perception, had started to piece together her story. He concluded that Xanthia was a girl pgued by social anxiety yet deeply yearning for connection. He resolved to help her integrate into the css, feeling it was his duty—a noble cause that resonated with him.

  It is often said that many men derive a peculiar satisfaction from assuming the role of a mentor. A certain authoritarian leader once remarked, "Men find two great joys in life: guiding the virtuous and reforming the errant." The notion of shaping someone into an ideal vision is a task that can evoke a profound sense of fulfillment.

  After a brief pause, Dematero scratched his head and adopted the gentlest tone he could manage. "Xanthia," he began, "I’d be happy to be your friend. It takes courage to reach out, and I’m sure it won’t be long before you have plenty of friends in our css."

  His words were met with the smile he had hoped for, one that seemed to bloom from the depths of her heart. "Dematero, you’re so kind," she replied with touching sincerity. "Please take care of me in the future."

  Dematero’s grin widened. He had never been deskmates with someone as sweet and delicate as Xanthia. Compared to her, the assertive girls he had encountered before felt like distant memories. How could anyone resist such a charming desk mate?

  "Let’s look after each other," he said with a light chuckle. Then, with renewed enthusiasm, he added, "By the way, your voice is lovely. It would be perfect for singing. I especially love Madonna’s ‘Like a Prayer’ and Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Time After Time’."

  Xanthia quietly noted the songs. She hadn’t yet delved into the music of this world, but discovering that both Madonna and Cyndi Lauper existed in this parallel universe was a pleasant surprise. She wondered if her favorite, Louis Armstrong, was here as well.

  Later, during lunch in the school cafeteria, Xanthia discreetly pulled out her phone. Thessaloniki First High School had strict rules against mobile phone use, but as a day student, she was willing to take the risk if it meant avoiding a teacher’s watchful eye.

  Her search yielded quick results.

  The good news was that Louis Armstrong did exist in this world. The bad news was that some of his cssics, including ‘What a Wonderful World,’ were absent. Yet, there were unfamiliar songs she had never encountered before—new treasures for a devoted fan like her.

  What fascinated Xanthia most was discovering that, in this world, Louis Armstrong had written two songs dedicated to his mother. The idea of such a divergence in history delighted her, sparking endless curiosity about the butterfly effects of this parallel universe.

  She searched further, typing “Top 3 Singers of the 1980s.” The results startled her—expected names were repced with entirely unfamiliar artists. It was a constant reminder of how this world intertwined familiar elements with the unexpected, often leaving her disoriented.

  She decided that, after school, she would immerse herself in music. Listening to these artists would be a way to honor her memories and explore the possibilities of her new reality.

  Although Xanthia had no aspirations of becoming a professional singer, she found the idea of learning to sing intriguing. It could bring her joy and serve a practical purpose. In her previous life, she had been so tone-deaf that she often resorted to lip-syncing during group outings—a source of endless embarrassment.

  Moreover, she mused, a girl with a good voice could stand out at school events and even enhance her social prospects. Since she aspired to become a more radiant and admired figure, every new skill was a step closer to her goal.

  Putting away her phone, Xanthia focused on her meal.

  As she entered the cafeteria, a challenge mission titled the “Clean Pte Campaign” appeared. If she could finish the cafeteria’s supposedly “unappetizing” meals for seven consecutive days, she would earn the attribute “Foodie.”

  The “Foodie” attribute promised remarkable benefits: preventing weight gain, enhancing nutrient absorption, and accelerating physical growth. It could even evolve into higher tiers like “Gourmet,” “Food Connoisseur,” or the ultimate, “Divine Taste.”

  Xanthia was intrigued by “Divine Taste.” It reminded her of a talent from a gourmet anime she had watched. If she was destined to refine herself into a distinguished dy, such an attribute seemed fitting.

  Despite the challenge’s description, Xanthia didn’t find the cafeteria food unappetizing. Her perspective was shaped by her previous life, where she had survived on far less appealing takeout meals.

  She dined alone, even after making friends with Dematero. Sharing a meal with him would have drawn unwanted attention, as Thessaloniki First High School strictly reguted student retionships. Dating was relegated to secrecy.

  Across the cafeteria, Dematero spotted Xanthia sitting alone. A pang of sympathy stirred within him, especially as he enjoyed a lively conversation with his friend Glen.

  "So, how’s it going with your new desk mate?" Glen asked with casual curiosity.

  "It’s going well. She’s actually quite sweet," Dematero replied with a smile.

  "Sweet?" Glen raised an eyebrow. "Do you know how Xenia La Sagrada described her?"

  "How?"

  "She said Xanthia might have autism. Apparently, she’s unwell, always carrying medicine and frequently taking sick leave. Her family isn’t well-off, and she’s so insecure she can hardly look people in the eye."

  Dematero was surprised by Glen’s report, but he nodded thoughtfully. "She is timid. Compared to my previous deskmates, she’s a breath of fresh air. They were so domineering, but Xanthia is... gentle."

  "Girls like her are sensitive," Glen cautioned. "Be careful not to hurt her feelings."

  "You’re overthinking it. Besides, you know it’s usually the girls who bully me, not the other way around," Dematero countered.

  As they disposed of their trays, the two passed Xanthia. They paused, observing as she meticulously cleaned her pte, even finishing the seaweed and egg soup with quiet determination.

  To Xanthia, this was simply part of the challenge. But to Dematero and Glenn, her behavior confirmed their assumptions. She must come from humble beginnings, they thought, her frugality speaking volumes about her life.