TBBS 02

Chapter 2….

I foolishly froze, my eyes and mouth wide open.

After a few seconds, Erik burst into laughter and looked at the librarian.

“Well, the transfer student isn’t much help at all.”

Of course.

I couldn’t help but shake my head.

Erik Wrangel helping me adapt to this school?

That was even more absurd than the idea of him applying for an after-school internship. He probably didn’t even remember my name.

But it turned out he had only been joking. Erik soon offered another excuse.

“Or maybe I could just say it’s for ECs (*Extracurricular Activities) on my college application?”

That sounded a little more plausible, but the librarian didn’t seem convinced.

She tilted her head as though she’d just witnessed one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

“Really? I don’t know your grades well, but aren’t you already volunteering with the Wrangel Foundation, running two clubs, and competing in both swimming and rowing?”

At once, I pictured Erik Wrangel’s college application, overflowing with ECs—enough to more than fill the ten slots Ivy League schools demanded—and then he confessed.

“Actually, it’s the swim team I want to drop. It takes too much energy, and the rowing season overlaps with the swim meets too often. To quit, I need to hand the coach a solid reason why I don’t even have thirty minutes after school. You’ll help me, right?”

Whether it was because he was a Wrangel, because of his exceptional looks, or some other quality I couldn’t see, somehow even a giant nearly 190 cm tall acting cute could make the teacher laugh.

Whatever the reason, the librarian soon gave in.

“Fine, but once your name is on the roster, you’re here at least three months. Three hours every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“Thank you, Miss Shelyn.”

Hearing Erik’s satisfied reply, I couldn’t hide my disbelief.

I was the one who had submitted the application. Erik Wrangel had shown up late—empty-handed, no less.

Then, as if she had read my thoughts, the teacher smiled and added,

“You too, Bibi. Your shift starts the day after tomorrow, but tomorrow you’ll meet with a senior intern to divide up responsibilities.”

Oh, thank goodness.

I sighed with relief.

“Thank you, Miss Shelyn.”

“And Erik, bring your application tomorrow.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Erik then looked at me again, his gaze sharp and assessing.

Flustered, I froze as his tanned hand stretched toward me.

“Let’s do well together, transfer student.”

Well… it didn’t sound particularly good-natured.

But with the teacher watching us with such approving eyes, I had no choice but to clasp his hand.

“…I’ll look forward to working with you, too.”

Unlike the pampered heir who only needed a convenient excuse to leave the swim team, I desperately needed this internship.

If I couldn’t land a paid school position, I’d have to get a part-time job outside, which would obviously hurt my studies.

So please, please don’t get in my way.

I prayed silently, but in those moss-green eyes looking down at me from so high above, I couldn’t read even a shred of goodwill.

The librarian, however, seemed not to notice anything strange about this odd pairing. Beaming, she said,

“I’m really looking forward to this, you two. We’ll finally catch up on all the backlog.”

With two new interns at once, she looked overjoyed.

As for me, I couldn’t have felt less so.

Wrangel had four dormitories, each named after a Nobel laureate.

And, amazingly enough, one of the school’s archaic rules required us to gather morning and evening for meals with the dorm supervisor.

At 7 p.m., in Lagerlöf—the girls’ dormitory I had been assigned to—the semester’s first dinner began.

“Good evening, everyone.”

All of us stood waiting for the supervisor and greeted her together.

“Hello, Miss Holm.”

Suddenly, the demerit system I had assumed was just an idle threat felt very real.

How many points was it for sneaking out at night again? Six?

“Lagerlöf has a new student. You’ve all introduced yourselves, I hope?”

The third-year dorm rep who had shown me to my room yesterday answered on my behalf.

“I gave her the tour.”

The supervisor nodded, then addressed me.

“Life at Wrangel can be a little different from public school.”

Across the table, Olivia—the girl I’d shared an awkward farewell with in literature class—murmured,

“It’s different because it’s extra boring.”

I almost laughed, but luckily the teacher hadn’t heard.

“We value sharing meals and time together. If you need to miss dinner, please let me know in advance.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With that, students lined up by grade to fill their plates buffet-style.

The rule might feel suffocating in the 21st century, but for me, it was a blessing—I wouldn’t have to worry about meals anymore.

“Where were you rushing off to earlier?”

Once we sat down, Olivia asked. I swallowed my food quickly before answering.

“The library.”

She widened her eyes briefly, then smiled and cut into her cutlet.

“First day and already the library? Definitely what I’d expect from a scholarship student.”

I flinched at the word “scholarship,” remembering the classroom whispers from this morning, but Olivia didn’t seem to mean anything by it.

The others around us were too busy chatting among themselves to care either way.

And really, being a scholarship student wasn’t a crime.

Most people probably thought “scholarship” meant top grades anyway—at worst, they’d just assume I was a nerd.

Olivia asked another question.

“You’ve installed the WG app, right? Wrangel Gymnasium?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, I heard it tracks attendance and grades.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes with a sly smile.

“Attendance and grades are the least of it. If you’re curious about Wrangel, check the dorm board. Once you verify your dorm, you get anonymity. If you want, you can even dig up years of old scandals.”

An anonymous board.

I’d never used one before, but honestly, I wasn’t curious.

At that moment, someone at a table further away burst out in complaint.

“Erik’s quitting the swim team this semester!”

The familiar name drew my gaze. Beside her, a friend brushed her golden hair in concern.

“Is that true, Kristina? But why? I was so excited—we moved the student council clubroom so I could run into him more often!”

“It’s all because of rowing! Since rowing’s a team sport, Erik couldn’t back out, so he had to give up swimming instead!”

I quickly turned my eyes away, pretending I hadn’t heard, but Olivia mouthed silently,

“You know Erik, right? The Wrangel heir.”

Apparently, even a first-day transfer student was expected to know Erik Wrangel’s name.

And thinking of the way he looked in his school uniform today, I could see why. He was like the school’s icon.

Olivia didn’t wait for my answer before continuing.

“Half the girls here like him, no matter the grade. Only someone from the Oxenstierna family would say it so boldly out loud, though.”

Ah, Sweden.

For all its talk of equality, this country still had noble houses whose names carried weight all on their own.

Wrangel, Wachtmeister, Sylvius, Oxenstierna…

Of course, for people with such imposing surnames, sharing meals and dorms with an immigrant third-generation like me—Bibi Han—was just one of those unavoidable consequences of Janteloven, the Scandinavian rule that no individual is worth more than another.

Still, it wasn’t as though I needed to tell anyone that I’d be working alongside the great Wrangel himself in the library starting tomorrow.

Quietly, I followed Olivia’s lead and cut into my cutlet.

After dinner, everyone scattered back to their rooms, most sighing over the heavy load of homework on the very first day.

“Come with me for a sec.”

But Olivia beckoned me into the nearest room.

I followed her inside, then happened to glance at the nameplate on the door.

Olivia Sylvius

So, she was a Sylvius. One of those very same names—Wrangel, Wachtmeister, Sylvius, Oxenstierna.

It seemed the first person kind enough to talk to me was also someone who lived, quite faithfully, under Janteloven.