The Delta Stream—Class 9—was the anomaly of Wolven High Academy.
While the Alpha Stream upstairs was filled with disciplined silence and the scent of expensive cologne, Class 9 smelled of teenage sweat, cheap deodorant, and chaos. This was the holding pen for the "others": the wealthy Betas who bought their way in, the mixed-bloods with diluted ancestry, and the eccentrics who refused to fit in.
In the back row, Joey sat with his boots proped up on the desk, rocking his chair dangerously on its hind legs. He was a Beta with a loud mouth and a talent for knowing everyone's business.
"Hey, Xavier," Joey chewed his gum loudly, leaning toward his deskmate. "Did you hear the news? The repeater from the Wildlands got dumped into our class."
Xavier sat next to him, reading a book on advanced tactical theory. He didn't look up. He was handsome in a cold, distant way—the kind of guy who looked like he belonged in the Alpha Stream but chose to be here for reasons no one understood.
"I heard," Xavier said, his voice flat.
"They say she's Faye's older sister," Joey snickered, lowering his voice. "But get this—she's a total Dormant. Zero wolf spirit. I bet she looks like a refugee. Rough skin, messy hair, probably smells like mud and wet dog."
Xavier finally turned a page, his expression darkening with annoyance. "It's boring, Joey."
"What is?"
"Her," Xavier said coldly. "She's just a stain on Faye's reputation. Everyone knows Faye is a prodigy. This girl? She's probably just here to leech off her sister's fame. It's pathetic. 'Trying to paint a tiger but ending up with a dog,' as the old saying goes."
Xavier made no secret of his admiration for Faye. To him, Faye was the ideal high-born lady—elegant, talented, and gifted with a powerful spirit. Her sister, this "Ren" from the Wildlands, was nothing but an embarrassment.
"Man, you're harsh," Joey laughed, checking his phone. "But yeah, I feel sorry for whoever has to sit next to the village girl. I hope she doesn't have fleas."
Suddenly, the noise in the classroom died down.
Mr. Gordon, the round-faced homeroom teacher, walked in. He was beaming, clapping his hands together. "Alright, settle down, you lot! Today, our class has a new member. I expect you all to be welcoming."
The class went silent, but it was a mocking silence. Thirty pairs of eyes turned to the door, ready to sneer at the country bumpkin. Joey smirked, readying a insult.
Then, Ren walked in.
The smirk froze on Joey's face. The gum fell out of his mouth.
She didn't look like a refugee.
She was tall and slender, wearing the school uniform in a way that should have been against the dress code but looked effortlessly cool. The blazer was draped loosely over her shoulders like a cape. Underneath, instead of the stiff button-down shirt, she wore a simple, loose white t-shirt.
Her skin was pale—coldly, strikingly pale, like porcelain left out in the snow. Her black hair fell loosely over her shoulders, messy but in a way that looked intentional.
But it was her eyes that stopped the breath in everyone's throat. They were dark, shaped like crushed almonds, and filled with a lazy, dangerous indifference.
She didn't look like a Dormant. She looked like a Rogue Queen who had just conquered a territory and found it boring.
Ren walked to the podium. She picked up a piece of chalk with long, slender fingers.
*Scritch. Scratch.*
She wrote three letters on the blackboard.
**R E N**
The handwriting was wild, sharp, and aggressive. The strokes cut across the board like claw marks.
She turned around, tossing the chalk back into the tray. She didn't smile. She just swept her gaze across the room.
The boys who had extended their legs into the aisle to trip her instinctively pulled them back. It was a primal reaction—biology recognizing a predator, even if logic said she was a "useless" Dormant.
"I'm Ren," she said. Her voice was low, raspy, and carried a natural chill.
That was it. No "nice to meet you." No "please take care of me." Just a statement of fact.
Mr. Gordon cleared his throat, breaking the stunned silence. "Right! Well, Ren, welcome to Class 9. You can take the empty seat in the back... next to Lily."
He pointed to a corner seat next to a girl with thick glasses who looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor.
Ren nodded. She walked down the aisle, her backpack slung over one shoulder.
As she passed Joey's desk, Joey felt a strange shiver run down his spine. He caught a faint scent—not mud, not wet dog, but something crisp and cold, like winter air.
"Holy sh*t," Joey whispered to Xavier as Ren passed. "Xavier... your intel was wrong. That's not a village girl. That's... that's a goddess."
Xavier frowned, looking at Ren's retreating back. He saw the way she slouched into her chair, kicking her legs out under the desk. "She has a good face. So what? It's just a shell. Inside, she's still empty."
Ren reached the back corner.
Lily, the class representative and a weak Omega, was trembling. She hastily moved her books to make space, terrified that the "delinquent from the Wildlands" would punch her.
Ren threw her bag onto the desk with a heavy thud. She pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing her long legs.
She glanced at Lily. Lily flinched.
Ren raised an eyebrow. The corner of her lip curled up slightly—not a nice smile, but an amused one.
"Got a charger?" Ren asked.
"Huh?" Lily blinked, confused by the lack of violence. "Oh! Yes! Here!"
Lily scrambled to hand over a cable.
"Thanks." Ren plugged in her phone, put on her black headphones, and pulled her hood up. She leaned back, closing her eyes, effectively shutting out the entire world.
The class resumed, but the atmosphere had shifted. The air felt heavier, charged with static.
Mr. Gordon started lecturing about "Pack History," but no one was listening. Phones were buzzing under desks.
*Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.*
Joey was furiously typing on the **Pack Network**—the school's anonymous forum.
He refreshed the page.
**[HOT TOPIC] New Transfer Student in Delta Class! Is this really Faye's sister?!**
Within ten minutes, the post had exploded. Someone had snapped a photo of Ren walking in—the blurry image of her standing at the podium, jacket draped over her shoulders, looking at the class like they were insects.
* **User77:** *Wait, hold on. I thought the rumors said she was a refugee? This girl looks like a model for a gothic brand.*
* **WolfBoy_99:** *I saw her at the gate! She was eating a lollipop and staring down the security guard. That aura... are we sure she's a Dormant? She feels like an Alpha.*
* **FayeFan_Official:** *Don't be fooled by looks. Mrs. Lee said she's "Rotten Meat." She has zero spiritual power. She's just a pretty vase. Empty inside.*
* **Delta_King:** *I don't care if she's empty. Did you see those legs? I'm transferring to Class 9.*
Joey scrolled through the comments, grinning. He poked Xavier again. "Look at this. The forum is crashing. She's been here for twenty minutes and she's already more popular than Faye."
Xavier glanced at the screen, reading the comments praising Ren's "badass vibes." His expression turned icy.
"It's a circus," Xavier muttered, closing his book with a snap. "And she's the clown. Wait until the exams start. Wait until the combat sparring. Then everyone will see that she's just a useless decoration."
He looked back at the corner.
Ren was asleep. Or at least, she looked asleep. Her face was buried in her arms, the hood covering her head.
Xavier felt a surge of irritation. He hated people who wasted their potential. But he hated people who had *no* potential and still acted arrogant even more.
*Enjoy the attention while it lasts, Ren,* Xavier thought. *Wolven High eats weaklings for breakfast.*
**[Chapter 4 End]**