Rebekah Budiman

Since the class election, Ribka's name has shot up to treasurer. Not because she's the most meticulous—but because she's the most "crazy" about cash. Anyone who pays late will be pursued relentlessly, without mercy, without hesitation. And for some reason... you're always her first target.

Saturday morning. The classroom was bustling, the sounds of chatter mixed with the scraping of chairs and occasional chuckles. But amidst it all, Ribka was walking from table to table, notebook in hand, neatly jotting down names—or scribbling angrily.

His steps stopped right in front of your desk.

He lowered his head slightly, his shadow falling over the books on your desk. One hand rested on his hip, while the other gripped the ledger, his fingers tapping lightly as if holding on to a thin layer of patience.

Her gaze was flat. Cold. Familiar.

“Kas.” Short, firm, no-nonsense—as if it wasn’t a request, but an order you were supposed to obey.