Two people, completely unconnected, found themselves inexplicably drawn together. Could it be their imaginations?

Zor blinked. She knew the inside story. Long ago, after a young girl in an elk mask gained popularity, she'd secretly asked Tiffany, receiving an affirmative answer. However, she'd promised to keep it a secret.

Zoe said, "It's just a coincidence. Besides, Tiffany is gorgeous! Cameras love her. The picture isn't photoshopped!"

Zoe tried to change the subject, but Ged remained preoccupied, even enlarging two pictures for comparison. Seeing his focus, Zoe felt pressured. She glanced at Tiffany, only to find her seat empty; Philip had called her to the studio.

He'd signed her up for an international oil painting competition, as promised, and presented her with her trophy and certificate. She'd won sixth place—an impressive achievement. Philip, a master oil painter, had encountered many talented students over the years, but Tiffany was exceptional. He repeatedly urged her, "Won't you consider becoming my student?"

This was an opportunity most could only dream of. Wealthy families clamored for his tutelage, but Philip was selective, prioritizing talent and an immediate connection. Pleading was useless, yet here he was, begging Tiffany. His seventy-year-old eyes were filled with disappointment, his demeanor pitiful. Tiffany, usually amenable to persuasion but not coercion, felt a pang of guilt. "Don't cry! Don't cry! I'll agree, alright?"

Philip, on the verge of tears, erupted in laughter. "Very good. From now on, you're my only student. I'll teach you everything I know. I believe you won't let me down."

Philip hadn't planned to stay in Lovell City long, but Tiffany changed his plans. He'd stay for a year and a half, at least.

"I'll do my best," Tiffany affirmed, acknowledging her decision but feeling no regret. She wasn't lazy; she'd commit fully.

Back in the classroom, the usual atmosphere prevailed—boys fawning over Tiffany. However, a new semester class division had placed Tiffany in the top class. Her classmates disapproved of her cliquey nature, whispering, "It's so easy with rich parents. They don't study hard, yet they hog the resources." "Exactly! We should keep our distance."

Tiffany ignored them, returning to her seat. But Ged's expression seemed off. Zoe explained, "He's probably questioning life…"

Tiffany, uninterested in pursuing the matter, picked up a book. A phone lay open before her, displaying two photos: one of Tiffany in her athletic uniform, looking cool; the other, in traditional clothing, exuding cold beauty.

Ged stared intently. "Is this you? Are they the same person?" His suspicions grew, particularly noticing her eyes and lips under the elk mask.

Tiffany, honest by nature, countered, "What if they aren't?" She hadn't told him before; they weren't close enough. Now, as her boyfriend, he deserved to know. At worst, it would shatter his fantasy.

Ged sighed with relief. "That's great! My boss and my goddess are different! How could I mix them up? Besides, if my goddess is as tough as you—a good fairy turned ferocious woman—all my fantasies will be shattered!"

Tiffany was speechless; Zoe looked at him with pity. They exchanged glances, Tiffany turning away from Ged.

At lunchtime, a crowd gathered at the restaurant entrance. "What's going on?" Ged asked, rushing toward it. "Me too!" Zoe followed.

Tiffany, drowsy after class, strolled leisurely, taking several minutes to cover the short distance. The commotion had just begun. A luxury car, surrounded by students, sat at the entrance. A man in a white suit, atop the car, held a massive bouquet of roses—perhaps 990, Tiffany estimated. She chuckled. Wouldn't it be difficult to stand there with such a heavy bouquet in the sun?

The man was drenched in sweat but maintained his Prince Charming façade. He looked familiar—Jordan, who'd almost slept with Sandra at Romeo's birthday party.

As the crowd grew, Jordan picked up a loudspeaker, but before he could confess, a book flew from the crowd, striking his face. He fell from the car to the ground, provoking laughter from the onlookers.

Jordan, enraged, demanded, "Who did that?"

A charming girl pushed through the crowd, elegantly dressed in a school uniform. Jordan’s eyes lit up, but his anger at being hit intensified. "Did you hit me with that book?"

Tiffany, nonchalantly, replied, "Don't you know you're blocking the entrance?" Jordan had deliberately parked there to garner attention, but Tiffany had ruined his grand gesture with a book.

He sneered, "I won't move. What are you going to do?"

Without hesitation, Tiffany kicked him. A wail followed as Jordan fell to the ground. Looking down at him, Tiffany, her eyes arrogant and bright, asked, "Now that you're on your knees, what do you want to say?"