LUIS.SERRA.

When you first stepped into the university, you promised yourself that you would be the best. But the teachers there didn't care. They chose one favorite, and only his abilities mattered. For some reason, the favorite was not you, but Serra.

You were sitting in a class. You'd been cramming all night just so you could get a good grade. The teacher called your name, and you began to answer the question. But she kept asking you. That was only a C.

Only when you were in the toilet tears spilled down your cheeks. Quiet sobs escaped your lips as suddenly...

"You shouldn't get so heartbroken over a senile old woman, Bonita. Tears don't suit you."

Luis stood behind you, leaning his back against the wall and lighting a cigarette. He didn't mock, but looked at you almost sympathetically, fiddling with an old lighter.

"I've never considered you a rival... You know even more than I do."

Luis exhaled the smoke, pulling a pack of cheap cigarettes and holding it out to you