In contrast, Ethan Clark's features are soft and somewhat childlike, without any aggressiveness; his clear amber eyes are sincere and innocent.

"Today is the first day of school..."

Ryan Cooper lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on the open folder on his forearm. His tone was calm and unhurried, occasionally lifting his head, his eyes steady.

Ethan Clark had always loved listening to Ryan Cooper read aloud, no matter what it was. But right now, something felt off. He desperately wanted to catch every word, but couldn't focus; the dryness and itchiness in his throat was getting worse.

It felt as if his airway was being compressed and narrowed, the airflow squeezing through the tight passage, unable to go up or down.

This is bad.

The reaction was all too familiar. Ethan Clark pulled out the packaging bag he was using as a cushion to check. The sound of air in his lungs was like a bellows being pulled open again and again.

Sure enough, he bought the wrong one. The only difference between the regular bread and the rice bread of this brand was a small symbol in the lower right corner; everything else looked exactly the same.

Ethan Clark suffered from severe wheat allergy. Besides the common symptoms of hives and itchy throat, the worst was food-induced asthma, which only occurred after significant exposure to allergens and would come on fiercely.

The gymnasium was excessively quiet. The only things Ethan Clark could hear were Ryan Cooper's voice and the increasingly obvious wheezing in his own chest.

His first reaction was regret—regret that he had left his medicine on his desk. Who would have thought that just this once, an allergic attack would happen?

But that thought didn't last long; the instinct to seek help came even faster. Asthma drained his strength. Ethan Clark struggled to lean forward and grabbed Jack Harris's arm.

People around him noticed something was wrong.

"A new semester means a new beginning."

Standing on stage, Ryan Cooper continued reading his speech.

Suddenly, there was a commotion among the students below, centered at the back of a certain class. Several people even stood up, forming a circle. Students from other classes also noticed something was happening and craned their necks to look.

"This will be a breakthrough and a turning point. The accumulation of the past is about to erupt; the turning point is just ahead..."

Whatever was happening, Ryan Cooper didn't really care. That was just his personality. He only occasionally glanced up, and through a gap in the chaotic crowd, he saw someone collapsed on the ground—just half of a side profile.

"Lele! Are you okay?!"

The head teacher, not knowing what was going on, stepped in to maintain order. "Hey, that class over there, what are you doing?"

Jack Harris was kneeling on the ground, his tone anxious. "Teacher! Someone's not feeling well!"

The speech in the microphone was abruptly cut off. There was a loud thud—the sound of the folder falling, amplified by the speaker, making it sound especially urgent and abrupt.

The head teacher turned around, and the podium was already empty. "It's all messed up!"

The student from the photography club, responsible for recording the whole event, stood there dumbfounded, not knowing whether to follow the student representative with the camera or keep it pointed at the now-empty stage.

An accident at the assembly, a pause in the speech—these could barely be considered normal reactions. But for the representative on stage to step down without a word—

And that person was Ryan Cooper.

That was just too unusual.

Chapter 3: The Confession Scene

The stadium was buzzing with noise.

Ethan Clark was lying on his side on the ground, his symptoms growing worse. He desperately wanted to take a deep breath, but the air entering his body was getting weaker and weaker. It felt as if there was a hole in his chest, air hissing out. Before he could even get a full breath, he started coughing violently.

Sensing that the student's condition was very bad, David Wright grew anxious as well. "Ethan Clark, what's going on? Are you okay? Can you speak?" He helped Ethan Clark up and gently patted his back. "Try to take a deep breath, slowly."

Just as no one knew what to do, a figure in white broke through the pale blue crowd, pushing through the throng.

"Give him some space, don't crowd around him."

The classmates nearby were all startled. No one expected that Ryan Cooper, who had just been giving a speech on stage, would suddenly appear here.

Homeroom teacher David Wright was also a bit surprised to see Ryan Cooper. He had taught this student before and always thought the kid was rather aloof, not even having many close friends—he didn't seem like the type to step up in an emergency.

Ryan Cooper half-knelt down, cradled the now-speechless Ethan Clark in his arms, adjusted his sitting position, and then took out some medicine from his pocket.

Seeing the medicine, David Wright was a bit puzzled and asked carefully, "Ryan Cooper, can he use that medicine? I've already called the school clinic's emergency staff—they'll be here soon."

"It's too late. This is his medicine." Ryan Cooper was so calm he didn't seem like a student, more like a professional first responder. He looked up and instructed those around him, "Everyone, give us a little more space."

He loosened Ethan Clark's school tie, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt to expose his neck, supported his shoulders and steadied his head, then, with his other hand, aimed the inhaler at Ethan Clark's mouth in one smooth, practiced motion. "Ethan Clark, inhale the medicine."

At this moment, Ethan Clark was drenched in cold sweat, his lips tinged with purple. Instinctively, he gripped Ryan Cooper's arm, using all his strength to draw the medicine into his lungs.

It had been a long time since he'd had an asthma attack. That feeling of losing control over both tears and breath crashed over him like a wave—everything went blank. But he could hear Ryan Cooper's voice, which gave him an invisible sense of comfort.

"Inhale again."