The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

Keira returned to the classroom in high spirits, still half-lost in her daydreams. Her footsteps felt lighter than usual, and she caught herself humming under her breath.

Two lunches, huh?

She smiled.

Guess I'll have to make something even better next time.

But the moment she stepped inside—

"…Huh?"

Her smile froze.

The spot where she had carefully placed her lunchbox was now completely empty.

"W-Where did it go?"

Her eyes darted around the room. She checked under the desk, on the chair, even peeked behind the curtain by the window. But no matter where she looked, it was gone.

Her expression twisted.

She'd only been gone for a few minutes. Just to fix her makeup and take a deep breath.

It wasn't like she'd forgotten it. She knew she'd left it there.

So unless the lunchbox had grown legs and decided to walk off on its own...

Someone had taken it.

A few snickers echoed from the back of the room.

"Ah…"

Her heart sank a little.

Keira was sharp when it came to reading a room. She always had been.

The fake smiles. The quick glances. The tone shifts in whispers not meant for her.

Even though things had gotten a little better—thanks to Rin, and Ryen stepping in when things got too far—there were still people who didn't like her. Who thought she deserved payback for the way she used to act.

Some classmates just ignored her. Others, well… they didn't miss a chance to remind her she wasn't exactly welcome.

And the worst part? Even those who didn't hate her weren't close enough to stop it.

This wasn't just a prank.

This was deliberate.

She clenched her jaw and swallowed hard, trying to keep her face neutral.

The sting of embarrassment spread slowly in her chest. She had made that lunch herself. She'd even cut the carrots into stars—ugh, stupid, why did she think that was a good idea?

It was supposed to be a simple gesture. One small step forward.

And someone crushed it just because they could.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

She could make a scene. She could demand to know who took it, storm around, slam desks—like the old Keira might have.

But…

She breathed in. Then out.

Not this time.

She'd figure something out. And if Rin asked, she'd laugh it off. Say she forgot it in the dorm or dropped it on the way. No way was she letting whoever did this win by seeing her hurt.

Still, as she sat down, a quiet frustration lingered in the back of her mind.

Why now? Just when things were starting to go well…

Maybe they were students from a different class.

Or maybe—her stomach turned—one of the kids she used to bully?

She didn't know.

All she knew was that someone still saw her as the old Keira. The loud, cocky brat who barked insults like it was a sport. Someone worth knocking down a peg, no matter how small the moment.

She sat down slowly, gripping the edge of her desk, forcing her expression into something calm, almost bored. If they were watching her—if they were waiting for a reaction—they wouldn't get it.

Her lips twitched into a slight smile.

Fake.

But steady.

Let them think she didn't care.

Still… beneath the facade, her chest felt tight. Not because she was sad. Not really. It was something more jagged than that. A low, bitter frustration gnawing at the edges of her pride.

She had worked hard on that lunch. Woke up early. Triple-checked the seasoning. Wrapped the chopsticks herself.

And not just for the food.

It was meant to be a gesture. Something small but real. Something to show Rin that… maybe she wasn't all bark. That she was trying, little by little, to be more than the girl she used to be.

And now it was gone.

Kiera couldn't help but chuckle at Irony.

"I guess this is it, huh? You reap what you sow."

Still resting her elbow on the desk, Keira stared out the window, her fingers tapping a slow, dull rhythm.

She didn't feel like moving. Or talking. Or thinking, really.

Her stomach gave a quiet, unsatisfied grumble, and she pressed her palm against it, as if that could hush the feeling.

Two lunches, huh…

Now there was none.

She hadn't even brought money for the cafeteria. It didn't seem worth it at the time—not when she had packed something herself.

"Hahahah! It's so hilarious"

Behind her, someone laughed a little too loudly at something completely unrelated. But the timing made her shoulders tense all the same.

Ignore it.

And she did. As best she could.

Still one drop of water leaked from her eyes and then waterfall broke out.

The first tear fell before she could stop it. Just one—quick, small, stupid.

Keira wiped it away fast, but it was too late.

Another followed.

Then another.

And suddenly, she couldn't hold it in anymore. The floodgate cracked, and everything she'd been holding together with shaky strings and shallow breaths unraveled in silence.

Her head stayed low, eyes fixed on her desk. She didn't sob. No dramatic sniffles or wails. Just quiet, steady tears she couldn't blink away fast enough.

She hated this.

This feeling.

This moment.

She clenched her jaw and bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from shaking.

But of course, someone noticed.

A snort came first. Then a short whisper, just loud enough.

"Oh my god. Is she crying?"

Another voice chimed in, amused.

"Seriously? Over a lunchbox?"

"Pfft. That's kinda sad."

Laughter followed—not the kind that filled the room, but the kind that stung. Light, mocking. Just enough to make sure she heard it.

Keira didn't move.

She didn't look up.

She didn't even bother trying to explain.

Her hands stayed still on the desk, fingers splayed out, nails pressing lightly into the wood.

Her face was blank, tears falling down it like they didn't belong to her.

And maybe in that moment, they didn't.

The girls kept snickering, one of them saying something under her breath—something like "Guess she's not so tough anymore."

Then their laughter trailed off as they left the classroom together, footsteps echoing down the hallway.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Silence returned.

Only the low hum of distant voices in other classrooms remained.

Keira stayed there for a while, still and quiet.

Then she wiped her face with her sleeve—once, then again. Roughly, like she was scrubbing away something shameful. Her eyes were red, but the tears had stopped.

She let out a slow breath and leaned back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling.

"...Get it together," she muttered to herself.

Because what else could she do?

No one was going to fix it for her.

No one was going to hand her the moment back.

But maybe—just maybe—there was still a way to take the next one.

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Thank you for reading the chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.

It's my first novel so if there's any kind of mistakes you find in the novel related to grammar please tell me and I'll edit it as soon as possible.