"Since our inception, we have lived by the motto: 'Dance with passion, light up the stage with sweat.'
"Beyond dominating on-campus performances, we constantly push our limits through external competitions, securing robust, consistent corporate sponsorships..."
Sloane's delivery was loud, polished, and oozed confidence.
The core message was glaringly obvious: we're the oldest, we're the best, we hoard trophies, and we're drowning in sponsor money.
Listening to her, it was painfully clear why they were the heavy favorites to win.
The audience erupted in applause. Even the judges couldn't hide their approving smiles.
The Classical Strings president nervously clutched Mika's sleeve.
"It's over. There is zero chance you can beat that."
"It's fine. I'll just do my best."
Mika offered a faint smile, her gaze fixed on the empty stage as her mind raced.
Sitting in the third row meant Mika was slated as the fifty-sixth speaker.
As the numbers ticked down, an uncontrollable wave of anxiety clawed its way up her throat.
Having spent nineteen years trapped in an overweight body, she had perfected the art of invisibility. She was terrified of the spotlight, horrified by the thought of being judged, mocked, or analyzed.
Even the mandatory first-day-of-school introductions had always been a humiliating, gut-wrenching torture for her.
Standing in front of hundreds of people to demand a seat at the table.
This was the ultimate terrifying leap of faith.
But today, she wasn't just Mika Miller. She was the Restoration Society. The relentless drive of her peers, their thirst for knowledge, and their unwavering belief in her were the fuel forcing her to step out of the shadows.

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