Chapter 1
Evelyn Nightingale first laid eyes on the legendary "Atelier Heartthrob" one afternoon during an assembly at Nightingale Academy. Every Wednesday afternoon, the school held a mandatory clean-up day, and as the niece of the headmaster, Evelyn found herself in an awkward position, caught between the panicking seniors and the carefree freshmen. Her desk partner, Thomas Blackwood, the herald at the Academy's broadcasting station, looked particularly animated today. As soon as the bell rang, he announced, "Headmaster Pembroke had a chat with me today. He said all the songs I play during announcements are totally irrelevant to schoolwork, and he's ordering me to play May Day songs instead." Evelyn, still focused on hurriedly finishing her assignment, snapped a piece of tape in frustration and spat out, "Fine! Just don’t play it again. I’ve heard enough." Thomas patted her shoulder, a conspiratorial smile spreading across his face. "You know what our cute freshmen are saying about us?" "What?" "They think I’m chasing you because I keep playing your favorite songs." He giggled, an exaggerated hand covering his mouth. Evelyn finally looked at him. Thomas was on the skinny side, tall for his age, with a boyish buzz cut, sparkling young eyes, and a little bit of flair. His only redeeming quality, she thought, was his voice, which was rumored to be the result of just a little charm. After giving him a bemused once-over, she returned to her assignment. Seeing Thomas still lingering, she asked, "Aren’t you leaving? It’s your turn to broadcast today, right?" He shook his head and propped himself up on the desk, sighing dramatically. "I caught a case of lovesickness, so I’m skipping today. I’ll be back tomorrow." Rolling her eyes inwardly, Evelyn shot him a skeptical glance. "Who’s the lucky guy this time?" Thomas sparkled like a thousand fireflies. "You won't believe it! There’s a stunning guy from the Natural Sciences class at the Atelier. I caught a glimpse, and my heart raced. It was... embarrassing!" He hid his face behind his hands, unable to contain his excitement. Evelyn felt her heart leap a little too. Peeking at her through his fingers, Thomas squealed, "Come on, let’s go see the Atelier!" "Fine. But as the representative in language arts, I’ll be the last one to turn in my assignment," Evelyn replied, squinting at him but allowing him to pull her along. “Deal! You promised we’d share good things together! Hurry!” He bounced on his feet, jerking her along. Feeling dizzy from his antics, Evelyn tossed her pencil aside. "Alright, for the sake of a charming fellow, let’s go!" With a flourish of mischief, they slipped out the back door and crept toward the Atelier. The Atelier was located on the top floor of the campus's other building. Thomas tugged at Evelyn’s sleeve as they sneaked in the back entrance. Inside, the place was quiet; not all the students had arrived yet, leaving spaces open, with a lone easel at the center showcasing an unfinished drawing of a character. As soon as Thomas entered, he darted off to find someone he knew to ask about the "Atelier Heartthrob." Evelyn, not recognizing anyone, stood observing. She occasionally glanced at the students drawing, listening to the soft scratching of pencils on paper. There was an unexpected thrill coursing through her—perhaps it was the atmosphere. All around her were sketches, still lifes, and vibrant canvases; it felt familiar, like something she had always known. Suddenly, her palms felt warm and itchy. Taking a deep breath, she'd just opened her mouth to call out to Thomas when the front door swung open. A boy walked in—dressed in a dove purple sweater and navy jogging pants, he looked effortlessly put together in a way that seemed to radiate… charm? Evelyn caught his profile—a sharp nose, thick eyebrows, bright eyes, and youthfulness that still had a hint of baby fat. As he stepped in, he began directing someone to organize the supplies. When his eyes fell on Evelyn, he approached her with a gentle yet inquisitive look. "Are you Bell?" Evelyn blinked, taken aback, then shook her head. "No, I’m not." "Oh, we're about to start cleaning. It might get a bit messy. Are you sure you want to stay?" He inquired with a polite tone. Realizing the situation, she replied, "Understood. We’ll leave." Evelyn grabbed the flailing Thomas and headed out of the Atelier. “Did you see that? Did you see him? The Atelier Heartthrob!” Thomas squealed in delight as they rushed down the hallway.
Chapter 2
As Thomas Blackwood sneaked away with Evelyn Nightingale, none of their classmates noticed. If they returned to the classroom now, they’d surely face an earful from Mistress Hazel. While the others were busy cleaning up, the two of them managed to abscond, finally making their way back after what felt like ages. They strolled through the Nightingale Academy’s Secret Garden, their hands empty of any books—a liberty that would certainly provoke the keen eye of Deputy Headmaster Pembroke, who frowned upon such carefree behavior. Evelyn had emerged from The Atelier somewhat dazed, an unusual flutter in her heart that refused to dissipate. Without noticing, she had started imitating the students in The Atelier, her hand unconsciously swinging at her side, mimicking the motion of brush strokes. Thomas kept glancing around nervously, half-expecting to bump into Deputy Headmaster Pembroke. He noticed Evelyn ahead, frowning as if lost in thought. “What’s the matter? Did watching ‘The Atelier’s Heartthrob’ make you think I’m not worth your time?” he puffed out jokingly. Evelyn didn’t catch his words, lost in her own thoughts as she walked several steps ahead without hearing his footsteps behind her. Turning around abruptly, she asked quietly, “Why are you so far away? Is Deputy Headmaster Pembroke around?” “Not at all. But I think you’ve left your mind back at The Atelier,” Thomas huffed, marching over. “The Atelier?” Evelyn blinked, momentarily confused. Images flooded her mind—walls lined with artwork, rows of easels, and boxes of paints. “Thomas, what do you think about me taking up painting?” Thomas squinted, giving Evelyn a scrutinizing look. “Are you really the Evelyn I know? Did your brother put you up to this?” Evelyn bit her lip and creased her brow. “He’s family, and words wouldn’t help. If I want to learn, I’d tell him.” Thomas scratched his head, clearly unsure. “Maybe you should just go home for the break and talk it out. I can’t make those decisions for you.” Evelyn clenched her fists, biting her lip again as she gazed towards The Atelier with a sense of longing. The Nightingale Academy was a prestigious private boarding school, with breaks every two months. The recent exams had been a disaster for Evelyn; she had suffered a nosebleed during the last test, missing out on a passing score and scraping by with just enough points. Though she knew her brother, Young Arthur, had aced his tests, she had followed Father Montague's advice and opted for this school last minute, despite it having a reputation for being a bit off-kilter. On her first day, Father Montague had accompanied her to the academy along with her brother. Before leaving, Young Arthur glanced around, then nodded in approval. “You’ll do just fine here, Evelyn. By the time we sit for the big exams, we’ll see whose talents shine brighter.” Evelyn couldn’t help but scoff inwardly. After all, he was the top scorer in their county! Finally, the break had arrived. The moment she stepped out of Headmaster Pembroke's office, she hopped into Father Montague’s car, flinging her backpack into the backseat. “Father Montague, who runs the household when we're home?” she inquired, leaning forward. “Relax, kid. You know it’s me who’s in charge,” he replied with a chuckle, pretending to shoulder a heavy obligation. “Good. I’d like to discuss something with you,” Evelyn said, plopping back into her seat, looking determined. “Go on,” Father Montague waved his hand, dismissing any distractions. “I want to learn how to paint,” she declared, pulling out a brochure for The Atelier. “It’s from our Academy, and I’ve done some research—I think it’d be a great fit for me.” After perusing the brochure for a moment, Father Montague folded it neatly, handing it back to her. “What’s the hold-up? Are you looking for your mother’s approval?” Evelyn sighed dramatically, sinking back into her seat with a pout. “I knew it.”
Chapter 3
When Evelyn Nightingale arrived at home, Mother Montague was already in the kitchen, preparing fruit. Without missing a beat, Evelyn rushed over and hugged her from behind while batting her eyelashes. “Dear Mother Montague, I’ve missed you so much! I’ve dreamed about you every night for the past two weeks.” “Speak plainly,” Mother Montague replied without looking up, focused on her chopping. “Mother Montague, I want to learn how to paint,” Evelyn dared to say, resting her head on her shoulder tentatively. In an instant, Mother Montague spun around, a knife in hand. “Mother! The knife!” Evelyn gasped, startled. Realizing what she had done, Mother Montague quickly set the knife down on the counter and asked, “What’s this about? You should be focusing on your studies; how much time do you have left before the painting course?” Evelyn fidgeted, her fingers nervously tapping on one another as she mumbled, “You used to push me to learn.” Mother Montague threw off her apron, slapping it down onto the counter with a huff. “You’re just at that age where everyone suddenly wants to be an artist. Mother Montague thought you could focus more on your studies. It’s like a dance you don’t want to keep, but here you are, struggling to write even the basics properly.” Evelyn blinked in surprise. “Come on, Mother Montague, you don’t have to be so harsh. I write just fine! Look, I even managed to get into high school!” “And what about when I wanted to send you to Uncle's Academy, but your Father, Lord Edmund, insisted on the private Sterling Academy? I only get to see you every two weeks, and what do I find? You’re not studying, are you?” She paced the kitchen, glancing at her daughter. “Unless someone’s pushing you, you won’t ever stay on track.” Just then, Evelyn called out to Father Montague, who had just entered with a backpack slung over one shoulder. She quickly rummaged through the bag and pulled out a certificate from Zane Quill, handing it triumphantly to Mother Montague. “Mother, look! This is my first prize from the Academy! And there’s more; I won first place in the painting competition! The certificate hasn’t been handed out yet.” Mother Montague took the award, scrutinizing it and then looking back at Evelyn, who beamed with pride. She glanced at Father Montague, who hurriedly pretended to check something on the wall. During dinner, Evelyn eagerly served Mother Montague some food. “Mother, let me take care of you. I’ve felt so guilty for not being by your side these past couple of weeks.” Mother Montague pursed her lips. While she felt a twinge of happiness, she nonetheless ate the food without saying much. Evelyn’s hopeful gaze rested on her mother, while Mother Montague assessed Father Montague, who gave a subtle nod. Clearing her throat, Mother Montague finally asked, “So, you want to pursue painting as a career?” Evelyn's eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Yes, I really want to!” she exclaimed, nodding earnestly like a bobblehead. “Have you thought about what you want to do after?” Mother Montague asked, still focused on her plate. “Mother Montague, I haven’t worked out the specifics yet. But learning to paint is what I truly want! I feel like I can do well academically and get into a good college, but I don’t want to follow the same boring path—study hard, take exams, choose a major I might regret later. I want something more exciting, something I love,” she said, setting her utensils down with determination. “So, I’m asking you for your support.” Mother Montague chewed more slowly, considering her daughter’s words. “What if you regret this decision?” “Absolutely not!” Evelyn exclaimed, shaking her head vehemently. “It’s what I want! I promise I won’t regret it!” Finally, Mother Montague set her utensils down and sighed. “Alright, I can agree to this. But remember, you’re still in high school, and your studying time is limited as it is. Pursuing painting will cut down even more. You need to manage your time wisely.” “Yes, I will, Mother Montague,” Evelyn replied cheerfully. After dinner, Evelyn quickly logged onto Chat Link and messaged Thomas Blackwood, “Old Hound is now part of the Atelier team!”
Chapter 4
On a bright afternoon, Father Montague pulled up in the family car, bringing Evelyn Nightingale to the entrance of Nightingale Academy. She held a bag of snacks prepared by Mother Montague, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. “It’s just so silly,” she thought. “I’m practically an adult and I still need to bring snacks to school.” As soon as she waved goodbye to her father, she spotted Gwendolyn Fairchild, who had just disembarked from the back seat. Gwendolyn was the type that adored good food. Her eyes sparkled when she saw the plastic bag in Evelyn's hand. Evelyn chuckled and offered her a small pouch. “Here, take this. Just save me the beef jerky, okay? The rest is all yours.” Gwendolyn grinned widely as she took the pouch eagerly. “Sure thing, Evelyn! If you need anything, even the latest gossip from the Academy, just ask me.” With a light laugh, Evelyn turned to walk away, but paused, remembering something. “Do you know everything that goes on here?” “Of course! No secret is safe from me!” Gwendolyn said, suddenly preoccupied with rummaging through the bag, almost forgetting to pass the jerky back to Evelyn. Evelyn peered at her and asked, “By the way, what’s the name of the new Mistress Pembroke from The Atelier?” Gwendolyn stopped fidgeting and thought for a moment, her gaze fixed on the ground. “Mistress Pembroke… sounds familiar. Let me think...” Evelyn adjusted her backpack and watched her intently. “Ah! Lucius Grey! He sat in front of me before class split into tracks—he was a big deal at Wildwood,” Gwendolyn exclaimed, slapping her forehead lightly. Evelyn nodded in acknowledgment and started walking again, only to hear Gwendolyn call out after her. “Hey, you still have a jar of beef jerky!” Evelyn waved it off, “You can keep it. The Commons food really is terrible; you might want to last these next two weeks with that.” Gwendolyn examined the jar closely, eyes gleaming. “Was this made by your mom? It smells amazing!” Evelyn nodded. At six o’clock, evening study sessions began, led by Mistress Hawthorne. She instructed the students to finish any unfinished assignments and work on practice quizzes. By seven o’clock, a break was called. The atmosphere inside the dimly lit room was filled with a mix of whispers and sighs of exasperation. Gwendolyn, finishing her bite of jerky, looked up and asked, “Evelyn, why were you interested in Mistress Pembroke’s name?” Thomas Blackwood, overhearing, chimed in, “Right! You sent me a message saying ‘Old Hound is one of The Atelier peeps.’ What does that even mean? Did your folks approve?” Evelyn stretched her arms and nodded. “Yep, they really did.” “Seriously?” Thomas's eyes widened in disbelief. “Yep, for sure.” “Hey! Were you even listening?” Gwendolyn ripped open another pack of jerky, just as Thomas tried grabbing it from her. “Hey, this is unfair!” “Don’t steal! This is from Evelyn.” Gwendolyn swatted his hand playfully. Thomas glared at Evelyn. “Wow, so you’re sharing all the good stuff with her now? Is that how you’re planning to leave me out?” Evelyn sighed, scratching her head in confusion. “Jacob and I bumped into each other earlier, and I just offered some to her. I didn’t know you liked it this much. Should I get you some next time?” Thomas huffed, turning back to his notes. Gwendolyn leaned in further. “But seriously, what do you need his name for? Are you developing a crush or something?” Evelyn playfully tapped Gwendolyn on the head with her notebook. “Got a sister you want to introduce him to?” Gwendolyn rubbed her head, pretending it hurt. “What’re you really after with his name?” Despite Thomas's annoyance, he leaned closer, intrigued. Evelyn smiled knowingly, “Well, I want to learn to paint, don’t I? Might as well get the details right from Montgomery. Also… Do you know any other students from The Atelier?”
Chapter 5
"Well... there's this guy who wears glasses, named Bartholomew Strong. True to his name, he's short and chubby. Everyone around here calls him 'Bartholomew Chubs,'" Gwendolyn Fairchild said with a laugh. "Then there's another guy, formerly our neighbor’s son, named Henry Fairchild. He's got a good buddy you know—Cedric Willoughby, the one who’s a real show-off." Evelyn Nightingale's face changed at the mention of that name. To understand the full story, we have to go back a couple of months. The Academy had become the center of some odd happening, possibly because students were getting too bored on campus. They started making bets and chasing after each other just for kicks. One day at noon, not feeling quite right in her stomach, Evelyn Nightingale left the Commons. As soon as she walked into the hallway, she heard a chorus of “Ohs!” that caught her attention. Turns out a few boys had been hiding nearby. When they saw Evelyn standing there confused, one of them approached and asked, “Which Master’s class are you in?” “Master Hawthorne’s,” Evelyn replied, thinking it was a student checking for rule-breakers. One of the boys then asked, “What’s your name?” “Evelyn Nightingale.” “Great! From now on, you’re my girlfriend, Cedric Willoughby,” the boy said with a grin. Evelyn froze. What the heck…? “When did your brain start working properly?” she fired back. “Excuse me?” said Cedric Willoughby, not quite catching her retort. “I asked when your brain had an upgrade? Do your parents even know?” Evelyn shot back, half-fuming and half-laughing. The other boys erupted into laughter. Cedric, feeling somewhat embarrassed, replied, “I’ll remember who you are. Just wait.” With that, he walked away. Leaving Evelyn in a state of confusion, she thought, What just happened? She grabbed a random book from the classroom and headed to the Secret Garden to catch some sun. Despite everything, she didn't know how rumors began circulating that Cedric Willoughby, son of Master Hawthorne, had a girlfriend in the Academy—a straight-A student no less. Every time Evelyn heard someone mention him, she would turn to Thomas Blackwood and ask, “Who’s Cedric Willoughby?” After some reminiscing, she sighed, “Oh, it was him.” Meanwhile, Gwendolyn Fairchild handed a piece of jerky to Thomas Blackwood. He grumpily took it, huffing in frustration. “And there’s this girl named Alaric Stone. You should hang out with her; she’s nice,” Gwendolyn added, continuing her chatter. “That’s it?” Evelyn asked. “Honestly, Margot, that’s all I know. I can’t possibly know all the students. We have thousands in the High School Division!” Gwendolyn replied with a shrug. Just as Evelyn nodded, she noticed Mistress Hawthorne waving at her from the doorway. Evelyn pointed to herself, and Mistress Hawthorne nodded back. Evelyn stood up and walked over to her. (End of chapter)
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