Chapter 263
In the Literature Department, the pen name Mora was something of a legend.
Mora first made waves with an article published in the Rosefrost Gazette. Over time, more pieces appeared sporadically across major newspapers and popular magazines, even earning a spot in a celebrity interview segment. Despite the buzz, Mora’s true identity remained a mystery.
So, when Dahlia suggested that newcomer Morwenna was the elusive Mora, the room went silent with shock.
“How could she possibly be Mora? I’m a huge fan, and I’ve devoured every piece she’s written. To me, Mora feels like someone in their thirties, wise beyond their years after a lifetime of experiences. How could a freshman possibly have that depth?”
“And to think she’d impersonate Mora! Mora’s debut was three years ago. Are you telling me she was crafting those masterpieces back in her junior year of high school?”
“Seems like you’d do anything to hype up your freshman star, huh?”
Regret washed over Dahlia as soon as the words left her mouth. Without solid proof, her claim had inadvertently turned Morwenna into
a target.
After all, it was Dahlia who said Morwenna was Mora, not Morwenna herself.
Daklia wanted to defend Morwenna, but the room’s chaotic energy and the crowd’s fervor made her reconsider. Supporting Morwenna was one thing, but going against the majority and inviting trouble upon herself was another matter entirely.
Keira stood silently behind Morwenna, lips pressed together in a firm line.
Lorna, visibly agitated, rolled up her sleeves, ready to defend her friend.
That was when Morwenna stepped forward and handed a speech draft to the skeptical girl who had spoken earlier.
“What’s this supposed to be?” the girl asked, taking a step back.
“It’s a draft I wrote for the speech. You said you’re a fan of Mora, right? Take a look at this,” Morwenna replied, her tone sincere.
The girl, curiosity getting the better of her skepticism, started reading the draft. As she read, her initial unimpressed look disappeared, turning into one of genuine interest.
She read it once, twice, then a third time, her shock growing with each reading. Finally, she looked up at Morwenna, astonishment written all over her face. “You… you’re really Mora?”
Morwenna nodded. “I was born and raised in the mountains. I might lack certain opportunities others have had, but I’ve always believed that my shortcomings weren’t due to a lack of intelligence, just a lack of exposure. The one thing I could immerse myself in was books, which is why I think my writing is decent.”
The room fell silent, the earlier hostility fading away.
Morwenna had faced much harsher challenges in her life; cómpared to those, this was nothing. “Some of you have criticized my French, and I won’t deny my flaws. But I believe I have strengths too. What we need in a Freshman Representative is a positive role model, and I think I can be that.”
Morwenna’s only skill was her writing, nurtured in the solitude of the mountains.
Even her submissions were made possible by Norbert, a friend to whom she’d write letters, and who’d help publish her work.
She never bragged about her talent or her background. But now, she felt it was time to reveal her pen name–not just for Campbell, but for her own hard–earned efforts. She wasn’t ready to step down.
The crowd quieted down. To most, who was to be the Freshman Representative didn’t really matter. It was always going to be one of the few popular candidates, and they knew they stood no chance themselves.Chapter 263
In the Literature Department, the pen name Mors was somenteng of a legend
Mora first made waves with an article published in the Rosefrost Gazette Over time, more places appeared sporadically acrose major newspapers and popular magazines, even eaming a spot in a celebrity interview segment. Despite the buzz, Mora’s true identity
mained a mystery.
So when Dahlin suggested that newcomer Morwenna was the elusive Mora, the room went silent with shock
How could the possibly be Mors? I’m a huge fan, and i’ve devoured every place she’s written to me, Mora feels like someone in their Thirties, wise beyond their years after a lifetime of experiences How could a freshman possibly have that depth?”
“And to think she’d impersonate Moral More’s debut was three years ago. Are you telling me she was crafting those masterpieces back in her junior year of high school?
“Seems like you’d do anything to hype up your freshman stat, huh?”
Regret washed over Dahlia as soon as the words left her mouth. Without solid proof, her claim had inadvertently turned Morwenna into
a target
After all, it was Dahlia who said Morwenna was Mora, not Morwenna herself.
oblie wanted to defend Morwenna, but the room’s chaotic energy and the crowd’s fervor made her reconsider. Supporting Morwenna was one thing, but going against the majority and inviting trouble upon herself was another matter entirely.
Keine stood silently behind Morwenna, lips pressed together in a firm line.
Loma, visibly agitated, rolled up her sleeves, ready to defend her friend.
That was when Morwenna stepped forward and handed a speech draft to the skeptical girl who had spoken earlier.
“What’s this supposed to be?” the girl asked, taking a step back.
“Its a draft I wrote for the speech. You said you’re a fan of Mora, right? Take a look at this,” Morwenna replied, her tone sincere.
The girl, curiosity getting the better of her skepticism, started reading the draft. As she read, her initial unimpressed look disappeared, turning into one of genuine interest.
She read it once, twice, then a third time, her shock growing with each reading. Finally, she looked up at Morwenna, astonishment written all over her face. “You… you’re really Mora?”
Morwenna nodded. “I was born and raised in the mountains. I might lack certain opportunities others have had, but I’ve always believed that my shortcomings weren’t due to a lack of intelligence, just a lack of exposure. The one thing I could immerse myself in was books, which is why i think my writing is decent.”
The room fell silent, the earlier hostility fading away.
Morwenna had faced much harsher challenges in her life; compared to those, this was nothing. “Some of you have criticized my French, and I won’t deny my flaws. But I believe I have strengths too. What we need in a Freshman Representative is a positive role model, and I think I can be that.”
Morwenna’s only skill was her writing, nurtured in the solitude of the mountains.
Even her submissions were made possible by Norbert, a friend to whom she’d write letters, and who’d help publish her work.
She never bragged about her talent or her background. But now, she felt it was time to reveal her pen name–not just for Campbell, but for her own hard–earned efforts. She wasn’t ready to step down.
The crowd quieted down. To most, who was to be the Freshman Representative didn’t really matter. It was always going to be one of the few popular candidates, and they knew they stood no chance them