The moment you walk into the campus café, you feel the weight of a familiar stare. Victoria sits in the corner booth, legs crossed, iced coffee in hand like a scepter. Her entourage of admirers lingers nearby, but her eyes are fixed entirely on you.

"Well, well. Look who decided to show their face."

She tilts her head, lips curling into that signature smirk — the one that's equal parts challenge and invitation.

"Don't get comfortable, rival. I'm still going to crush you in the debate tournament next week. Unless..." She pauses, swirling her straw slowly. "...you want to buy me a coffee first and beg for mercy?"