The entire atmosphere in the classroom shifted the moment he walked in.
Markara stepped through the door without any idea of the chaos that had unfolded just minutes earlier. While everyone else was tense and silent, he looked completely relaxed—like nothing was out of the ordinary.
He adjusted the strap of his bag, brushing some dust off his wrinkled uniform. His tie was crooked, his shirt half-untucked, and his hair slightly messy from rushing across campus.
Then he stopped.
His eyes scanned the classroom with a puzzled look. He could feel the strange tension hanging in the air, but it didn't bother him.
What really caught his attention was the sight of Vuthy, crouched near the front of the room like he was trying to hide from the world.
Their eyes met.
Vuthy's face lit up with relief—like he had just been saved.
Markara blinked and pointed at him.
"Huh? Vuthy… why are you crouching like that?"
Vuthy didn't waste a second. He quickly scrambled across the floor and rushed over to Markara's side, grabbing his sleeve like a kid.
"Mark! You're here!" he said in a panicked whisper, then turned to point straight at Bunheng, who was still standing with a dark look on his face.
Vuthy's voice dropped to a frantic mutter as he explained everything—how Bunheng his friend had stormed in, how he accused someone from their class, how he'd been grabbed and nearly punched.
Markara listened quietly, glancing over at the tall boy Vuthy had pointed to and the rest of his friends.
"I think it's just a misunderstanding," he said gently. "Don't worry. I'll go talk to them."
His voice was warm, light—like this was no big deal at all.
He slowly walked up to Bunheng and stopped in front of him.
"Hi there," he said casually, offering a warm smile. "My name's Markara. I'm the vice president of this class."
He extended a hand, friendly and relaxed.
But Bunheng didn't take it.
He didn't even glance at Markara. It was as if he wasn't there at all.
His eyes stayed fixed on one person—William.
Bunheng stood still, shoulders tense, waiting… like a soldier waiting for orders from his commander.
Markara slowly lowered his hand, his smile fading just a little. Then he followed Bunheng's gaze.
His eyes landed on William, who stood a short distance away.
And just below him, sitting at her desk with perfect posture, was Thida.
Cold, still, Like stone.
Markara tilted his head slightly, puzzled.
Curious, he gently tapped Bunheng on the shoulder.
"Shut the fuck up! You're so fucking annoying!"
His voice exploded across the room, filled with rage.
A vein bulged on his forehead, his face turning red with anger. The moment Markara tapped his shoulder.
Markara flinched at Bunheng's outburst and instinctively took a step back. His hands went up in the air, more out of surprise than fear.
But before he could say things, another voice entered the space between them.
"So, you're the vice president," the voice said.
"Markara, was it?"
William stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He gave him a light smile.
"My name is Seng William," he continued.
"I'm from Class B. I also serve as class president"
Markara turned to him, blinking in surprise.
Then, realizing the situation, he straightened his back and awkwardly held out his hand for a handshake.
"Oh… my name is Markara. Lewis Markara," he said, stumbling a bit over his words. "I'm… the vice president of Class 11-A."
It was clear this was the first time he had met another class president face to face—and especially one as intense as William.
William looked at Markara for a moment before finally taking his hand.
They shook briefly—formal, measured.
Then William spoke, his voice calm and steady.
"There was a report made to the school yesterday," he said. "About Bunheng and a few others… smoking off-campus. A photo was submitted. It caused quite a stir."
He paused.
His eyes didn't leave Markara's face.
"We traced it back to this class. Someone here knew exactly where we were and caught it on camera. That's why we're here."
Markara listened carefully, his brows drawing together slightly.
After a moment, he spoke, voice quiet but honest.
"I see… but I really think it's a misunderstanding," he said. "I don't believe anyone in our class would do something like that—at least, not in a way that causes trouble."
He gave a small, apologetic smile.
But before he could say more, William slowly raised his hand and pointed toward the classroom doorway.
"Then why don't you ask that person?" he said, his voice still calm—but sharper now.
Markara turned.
So did everyone else.
All eyes followed William's gesture to a figure standing halfway behind the door frame, barely visible.
And then—
"Pisey!"
Thida's voice broke the silence.
The once-emotionless class president now looked confused—almost shaken.
Her sharp eyes locked onto the girl in the doorway, blinking as if trying to confirm what she was seeing.
It really was Pisey.
She slowly stepped into the classroom, her head bowed, eyes fixed on the floor. The silence in the room grew heavier with each step she took.
She opened her mouth to speak, her voice barely a whisper.
"It was—"
"Ahh… I was the one who made her do it!"
Markara's voice rang out suddenly, cutting her off.
"I pressured her," he said, raising his hand casually. "It was all my idea."
Pisey froze in place, stunned.
Thida's eyes widened.
Even William seemed taken aback for a moment.
"Oy, Markara… what are you—"
Vuthy started to protest, stepping forward.
But before he could finish, Markara quickly reached over and covered his mouth with one hand.
"Hehe… it was just a small prank!" Markara said with a grin, turning to look at William.
His voice was light.
Then—CRACK!
Without warning, Bunheng snapped.
He charged forward like a bull, eyes wild with rage. Before anyone could react, his fist flew straight into Markara's face—slamming hard into his left cheek.
The impact echoed through the classroom like a thunderclap.
Leap rushed in and grabbed Bunheng from behind, wrapping his arms around him.
"Oi! Calm down! We're in the middle of class!" Leap hissed, struggling to hold him back.
Bunheng's fists were still clenched, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, ready to swing again.
Thida and Pisey stood frozen, eyes wide, lips parted—but no words came out.
The rest of the class was just as still, stunned by the sudden burst of violence.
Only Vuthy moved.
He hurried to Markara's side, crouching next to him in panic.
"Mark…! Are you okay?!"
Blood ran down from the corner of Markara's mouth, dripping onto the floor.
But even as Vuthy reached out, Markara slowly pushed himself up with one hand, coughing once—then grinning through the pain.
"I'm okay…" he muttered.
Just then, the classroom door opened again.
Their homeroom teacher finally arrived, eyes widening the moment he saw the scene before him—students frozen, desks slightly shifted, and Markara on the ground with blood on his face.
"That's enough!" the teacher barked. "What's going on here?! William, take your classmates and return to your class. Now."
William, still calm, gave a small nod. He turned and walked toward the door without a word, signaling the others to follow.
Leap let go of Bunheng, who looked like he still had fire burning behind his eyes.
As they left the room, just before stepping out, Bunheng turned and pointed at Markara.
His voice was sharp and threatening.
"Watch your back."
Then they were gone.