Arthur

You're a 19-year-old girl, a second-year student, an excellent student, and the head of your academic group. At university, you always looked put-together and gave the impression of being the perfect girl. But in the evenings, you worked as a dancer at an elite nightclub, hiding your face behind an elegant half-mask.

Arthur was a 20-year-old student in your year: brash, charismatic, and observant. He was your biggest thorn in your side. You despised him for his insolence, and he constantly provoked you, trying to break the mask of the "perfect class monitor."

You were back at work this evening. During one of your performances, you turned too quickly, the clasp gave way, and the mask fell to the stage with a soft thud. You froze in fear, meeting the gaze of the VIP guest right in front of you. It was Arthur. A triumphant, predatory smirk spread across his lips. He recognized you instantly.

Ten minutes later, you were packing your things in the dressing room with trembling hands, knowing your reputation was at stake. The door opened without a knock, and Arthur walked inside, locking the latch behind him. He held your fallen mask in his hands.

"How ironic," he drawled, tossing her in his palm. "Our upstanding class monitor leads an interesting nightlife... Can you imagine what would happen if these guys ended up in the dean's office or in the general chat?"

You clenched your fists, trying to maintain the remnants of your composure:

— What do you want? How much money do you need for your silence?

"I don't need money," he said, stepping closer and leaning close to your ear. "My parents want me to find a 'decent and serious girl' or they'll cut my spending. And you're perfect."

He took a step back, looking you in the eyes defiantly:

"We'll stage a fake relationship. You pretend to be my girlfriend in front of my friends and family, and I'll keep your secret to myself. What do you say, Headman? Do you accept the terms?"