Castillian #1: Sinner's Formula

Scarlet Fuentabella just wanted to buy fries.

That's it. Nothing more. She didn't have bad intentions. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She was just hungry. A perfectly harmless afternoon craving.

But in the cafeteria, fate said: "Let's fck this girl up."

It started with a speaker.

A soft but clear mic sound from the back of the cafeteria.

Then a familiar voice:

"Excuse me, attention everyone!"

Heads turned. Phones lowered. Even the fries stopped frying.

Scarlet blinked and turned toward the small platform at the side of the cafeteria where bands usually played or announcements were made.

And there, standing like she was hosting her own TED Talk, was Clarisse Santiago.

Blazer. Heels. Holding a mic. Beside her, there was even a projector screen. Projector. Freaking. Screen. For what? A PowerPoint?

"Thank you to everyone here," said Clarisse, her voice full of fake sweetness. "We just want to share something. Especially for students concerned with professionalism and academic integrity."

Scarlet blinked. Wait. Concerned with what now?

Liza nudged her. "Girl… why am I suddenly nervous?"

Then—click.

The projector turned on.

And on the screen?

A zoomed-in screenshot of a private chat.

A convo labeled: "Mico 🖤"

With snippets that read:

"Don't stress baby. I got your assignment."

"If you're good today, I'll give you a reward later."

"Wear that short skirt I like."

Scarlet's entire body went cold.

Wait—WHAT THE—

"We just want to remind everyone," Clarisse began again, "that there are some people who use their… personal relationships to get academic help."

Dead silence.

All eyes—on Scarlet.

"While some of us work hard for our grades," Clarisse continued, eyes locked on Scarlet, "others apparently just… text their way to passing."

The room was so quiet, you could hear a ketchup sachet pop open at the next table.

Scarlet's ears were ringing.

She looked at her friends—but even they looked stunned. The chat screenshots—they were real. Well… partly. Some were clearly taken out of context. Or edited. Or spliced.

But who would believe her over someone like Clarisse?

Scarlet stood up, hand trembling slightly. "Wait—t-this isn't—this isn't what you think—"

But Clarisse cut her off. "You really think he likes you?"

Laughter.

Not the whole room—but enough to sting like a slap.

Scarlet froze.

"Let's be real, Scarlet Fuentabella," Clarisse sneered. "If it were me, you could've used me too. You'd still pass. At least I'd be worth it."

Gasps filled the room.

Scarlet's heart dropped.

Her knees nearly gave way.

Then—a new voice.

Calm.

Low.

Dangerous.

"Clarisse."

Everyone turned.

And there he was.

Mico Cein Esguerra.

Still in uniform, still holding his bag. But his eyes?

Cold. Furious. Unapologetic.

Clarisse paled. "M-Mico…"

"Turn off the projector." His tone brooked no argument.

No one moved.

So he walked up to the platform himself, yanked the cord, and kicked the projector off the table.

More gasps.

Scarlet was frozen. Staring.

Mico turned to the crowd.

Then to Scarlet.

He walked over, took her trembling hand—

And kissed it.

Long. Purposeful. In front of everyone.

Scarlet couldn't even breathe.

Then Mico faced the crowd again.

"If you think she used me," he said, voice sharp as glass, "then you clearly don't know her. Or me."

"She's not a user. She's not fake. And if she's my tutor—so what? I offered."

Then he turned to Clarisse. "Next time you try to humiliate someone just to prove you're the 'better one'—make sure I'm not around to see it."

Clarisse opened her mouth to argue, but Mico was already pulling Scarlet out of the cafeteria, gripping her hand like it was armor.

Scarlet was crying. Quietly.

"I didn't know," she whispered, "that people already saw me that way."

Mico wiped her tears. "That's not your fault."

"There were screenshots…"

"I know. And I'll find out who gave them those." His jaw was clenched. "But for now, remember one thing."

"What?"

He leaned closer. "I'm proud to be yours. Even if no one else believes it."

Scarlet stared at him. Eyes wide.

Then whispered:

"Even if I'm clueless and clumsy and my brain's mostly cotton candy?"

Mico smiled.

"The fluff is my favorite part."

- 🏀 -

Scarlet Fuentabella woke up with a mission.

Okay, to be fair, she didn't exactly plan to become a warrior princess. She was still that slightly clueless girl who wrote formulas on her hand, shared her PE reflections, and said "yes po" even to classmates.

But after what happened in the cafeteria— After the entire school saw those screenshots— After Mico held her hand and said, "I'm proud to be yours"…

Scarlet Fuentabella had had enough.

11:45 AM – Engineering Department Hallway

Clarisse was glowing.

She was in an all-white outfit—slacks, silk blouse, and a Christian Dior sling bag. Like nothing happened yesterday. In fact, she seemed even more energized.

"Poor girl, right?" whispered Cheska as the three of them walked.

"She has nothing going for her but her ass and being cute," added Lianne.

Clarisse laughed. "Well, if that's all Mico sees right now, then good luck to him."

"Wrap up your soap opera."

A voice from behind.

They all turned.

And there she was.

Scarlet.

No smile. No "hi." No shaky baby voice. Black skirt, white blouse tucked tight—and wait, was she wearing heels?!

"Scarlet?" said Cheska, laughing fakely. "Ooh, I like your outfit! Costume party today?"

"No," Scarlet answered, deadpan. "It's for a funeral."

Clarisse narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?"

Scarlet stepped forward.

One step. Two steps. Until she was right in front of them.

Then she said, "You know, Clarisse. I always get called dumb. Clueless. Undeserving."

She paused.

"But here's the thing."

She smiled.

"I am clueless. Sure. But I'm not cheap. I'm not fake. And I'm not insecure enough to edit chat screenshots and give a presentation in the cafeteria like I'm drunk on attention."

The hallway fell silent.

Clarisse looked like she got slapped by a rainbow-colored slipper.

"I'm not perfect," Scarlet continued. "But at least, I don't waste my time ruining others just because the guy I like didn't choose me."

She tilted her head sweetly.

"What was it you said yesterday? 'If it were me, you could use me'?"

She leaned closer, and whispered—but loud enough for all to hear:

"That's the most desperate thing I've ever heard. Even in Wattpad, supporting characters like that never get picked."

Someone literally yelled "OH SH*T!" from the next bench.

Cheska grabbed Clarisse's arm. "Uhm… let's go—"

Scarlet wasn't done.

"Before you ask if I deserve Mico, ask yourself first: Were you ever even an option?"

Clarisse's jaw clenched.

Scarlet smiled one last time. "Careful with that ego. It's slipperier than a waxed floor."

Then she walked away. Like a queen. With an imaginary slow-motion hair flip.

Later That Day

"Did you… do something today?" Mico asked as he let Scarlet into his car.

Scarlet shrugged, sipping her iced choco. "Why would you think that?"

He grinned. "Well, three girls messaged our group chat. Their exact words were: 'Scarlet… has horns?!'"

Scarlet blinked innocently. "Weird. Must be their imagination."

Mico stared at her. Then leaned in. "I think I'm falling harder for you, baby."

Scarlet smiled—mischievous, dangerous, glowing. "Then fall harder."