Chapter 28 Public humiliation for beginners

Chapter 28 Public humiliation for beginners
Lila’s and Zeke’s POV
Lila peeled his hand off her face. “Lower your voice, he won’t know a thing.”
“WON’T KNOW A THING?” he whisper-yelled. “I LIVE WITH HIM, LILA. I SHARE A ROOF WITH ZERRAN, CIEL, AND RIX. THEY’LL DEFINITELY KNOW A THING－”
“I wouldn’t put you in danger,” she said quickly. “You’re my friend.”
He froze.

“…You know Hazel probably grew up in Westbourne city, she’s not used to dealing with bullies like Zerran, we have to help her,” Lila said quietly.

Lila’s bravado cracked just a little.
“She’s the first real friend I’ve had in a long time…after you and Ilyas,” Lila said.
Zeke exhaled slowly, rubbing his face. “…Fine. But we have to be quick. And subtle. And non-lethal.”

She grinned instantly. “I already have a plan.”

She leaned in again, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“We don’t confront him.”
Zeke nodded immediately. “Good.”
“We don’t threaten him.”
“Yes.”
“We don’t even speak to him.”
Zeke relaxed. “Lila, this is the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”
“We humiliate him.”
Zeke stiffened. “…I take it back.”

She continued anyway.
“Zerran lives on reputation. Fear. Control. So we don’t touch him, we touch his image.”
Zeke swallowed. “How?”
She smiled sweetly.
“You know how Rix never leaves Zerran’s side?”

Zeke groaned. “Yes. They’re like a horror movie duo.”
“We send Rix away.”
“How.”
“Admin notice. Anonymous. Disciplinary appeal.” She shrugged. “Rix is responsible. He’ll go.”
“And Zerran?”
“Hates admin. Won’t follow cuz he trusts Rix to handle it.”

Zeke swallowed. “Okay.”
Lila continued calmly, like she was explaining a science experiment.
“We put up posters. Nothing flashy. ‘Ravenhill Confessions.’ Anonymous. Voice-only. People love that stuff.”

Zeke’s brain clicked. “You’re not serious.”
“Oh, I am.”
“And Zerran goes because－”
“Because he thinks someone wants to confess to him,” Lila said. “Or about him. Or for him. Or gossip about him. Ego does the rest.”

Zeke stared at her. “That’s diabolical.”
“Thank you.” She grinned.
“And then what?”

Her eyes gleamed.

“We set up a booth and inside that booth will be a chair, a mic and a divider…buuuut what Zerran doesn’t know is that the mic is gonna be connected to a speaker which WE are gonna hide near a busy hallway, that’s packed with people.”
Zeke winced. “Oh no.”
“We don’t need him to confess something awful. We just need him being… himself.”

Lila smiled. Slowly. Sweetly, “We’ll prompt him with questions like: ‘Ever been rejected?’, ‘Ever liked someone you shouldn’t?’, ‘What’s your type?’, and of course, Zerran would answer sarcastically, arrogantly.”
Zeke’s eyes widened, “Then－”
“Then the killer question: ‘What would you say if someone accused you of being soft?’, and Zerran would totally say stuff like－”

She lowered her voice, perfectly mimicking Zerran’s cadence, “I’d kiss them just to shut them up’. Or ‘People confuse obsession with fear’. Or ‘I don’t chase－ they follow.”
Zeke laughed despite himself, “Zerran actually does sound like that.”
“THEEENNN…I flip the switch and the divider drops－”

Zeke’s brain started catching up, “AND－”
“ANDDD the audio echoes across the hallway, students hear Zeeran’s voice, talking confidently, about kissing, about people wanting him, about obsession…but without context, so it would sound like a dramatic monologue, a love confession, a narcissistic speech. People start laughing. Phones come out”, she finished.

“Someone would probably yell ‘WHY DOES HE SOUND LIKE HE’S PROPOSING TO HIMSELF?”, Zeke joked.
“Another person would say ‘BRO THINKS HE’S IN A ROMANCE NOVEL.”, Lila chimed in.

They both snicker, then Lila holds a hand up, “It’s not over yet, just as Zerran finally realizes what’s happening, the speakers crackle again and a recorded voice, very calmly says: ‘Thank you for participating in Ravenhill Confessions. Please remember, some thoughts are better left inside your head’ then people laugh again. Actual, real laughter.”

Zeke imagined a hallway full of students listening to Zerran monologue like the lead in a tragic romance.
He covered his face.
“They’ll laugh,” he said.
“They won’t be able to stop,” Lila replied.
Silence stretched between them.

Finally, Zeke sighed. Long. Resigned.
“…Okay,” he said. “But if I die, I’m haunting you.”
Lila beamed. “But it’ll be worth it.”
He shook his head slowly. “If we survive, I’m transferring schools.”
She clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

Somewhere across campus, Zerran sneezed.

Lila pumped her fist. “Operation Main character syndrome is a go.”
Zeke sighed. “I hate that name.”
She grinned. “You love it.”



Hazel's POV
I limped toward him, slow enough to look casual, fast enough that my hip wouldn’t actually file a missing-persons report. If he noticed my pain, he didn’t show it. He was sprawled against the wall like it belonged to him—legs stretched out, back slumped, shovel resting beside him like a loyal mutt.

He heard me.
Of course he did.
One eye cracked open. Pale, sharp, irritated. He clicked his tongue like I’d personally offended the air around him.

“Tch. Came back to step on Thrasher again, you dumb fckin’ ginger hazard?” His voice was rough, scraped raw by smoke and bad decisions. “Or you just enjoy bein’ a pain-in-the-ass with legs?”

I stopped walking. Wow. He looked like he’d been dragged through a war zone, bleeding, half-dead, limping worse than me and he still had the audacity. Impressive. Stupid. But impressive. 
I leaned against the wall beside him, careful not to put weight on my bad side, folding my arms like this was a perfectly normal social visit.

“That’s rich,” I said calmly. “Coming from someone who looks like he lost a fist fight with a malfunctioning lawn equipment.”
He sat up immediately, cigarette yanked from his lips.
“I didn’t lose,” he snapped. “And I didn’t fight a fckin’ lawnmower, you mouthy btch-ass.”
Oh. Oh, he called me that.

My eye twitched. Once. Dangerously.
Right. That did it. I smiled.
Not a nice smile. The kind teachers warned students about. The kind that meant someone was about to regret their literacy level.

“You know,” I said thoughtfully, “it’s genuinely impressive how you manage to be both verbally aggressive and semantically impoverished at the same time. It’s like watching a rabid dog attempt philosophy.”