Everybody Listens!The tension in the Dean’s office was so thick it felt like trying to breathe underwater.Mr. Zain stood with his hand still extended in mid-air, pointing at Nathan, waiting for Mrs. Shawn to agree with him, to call security, to do anything that made sense. But the Dean just sat there, her face as pale as a sheet of printer paper, staring at her desk blotter."Mrs. Shawn?" Zain asked, his arrogant smirk slowly faltering. He lowered his hand. The absolute silence in the room was starting to make his skin crawl. "Dean Shawn, I asked for permission to have this student removed. Come on, say something!"Mrs. Shawn finally looked up. She didn't look like a woman in charge of an elite Ivy League institution. She looked like a passenger on a sinking ship."I cannot do that, Mr. Zain," she said, her voice completely devoid of its usual administrative bite.Zain’s brow furrowed. He looked from the Dean to Nathan, and then back to the Dean. He was visibly confused. Clearly, so

The silence that followed Nathan’s announcement didn’t last long. It hung in the air for perhaps three seconds —just long enough for the ninety students in Lecture Hall 402 to process the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of what the bruised kid in the faded t-shirt had just said.Then, as if unanimously planned, the room exploded.It was a torrential, deafening roar of laughter that shook the acoustic ceiling tiles. Students were doubling over their desks, gasping for air, tears literally streaming down their faces. It was the kind of hysterical, unhinged reaction you’d expect if a toddler had just walked up to the microphone and declared he was the President of the United States.From the back row, a rogue projectile sailed through the air.SPLAT.A half-eaten, hard-boiled egg smashed directly against the smartboard, missing Nathan’s left ear by mere inches. Fragments of white shell and yellow yolk rained down onto the polished wood of the podium."Missed, you idiot!" someone shouted f

"STRIP! STRIP! STRIP!"Ninety voices, unified in a chorus of cruelty, hammered against Nathan’s eardrums. It was the kind of mob mentality you usually only see in grainy footage of historical riots or the comment sections of a viral "cancellation" thread. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, expensive cologne, and the metallic tang of adrenaline.To the students of Class 402, this wasn't just a bet. It was a foregone conclusion. They were watching a dead man walking, a "chicken boy" who had just signed a contract for his own social execution."Come on, Walters! Take it off!" someone screamed from the back, their voice cracking with excitement. "Don't make us wait! We’ve got lunch in twenty minutes!"Nathan didn't move. He stood on the podium, his hands resting on the edge of the wood, watching the crowd with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing bacteria in a petri dish. He looked at the ninety glowing smartphone screens -ninety digital eyes waiting to broadcast his sh

Amanda stood a few feet away from Nathan. Alone. The lecture hall was completely empty now, the silence heavy and thick with the remnants of the morning's chaos and shock.Amanda looked breathtakingly beautiful, as she always did. She wore a tailored white skirt and a silk blouse, her hair falling perfectly over her shoulders. But her expression was incredibly ugly. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin, furious line of pure contempt.Nathan felt a sudden, heavy ache in his chest. It was an emotional reflex he hated. He had loved this girl for three years. He had starved himself to buy her gifts. He had poured his genius into a project just to give her a future. Seeing someone you love so deeply suddenly switch up—seeing their features twist into a mask of cruel, unfeeling disgust… it was a visceral, physical pain."Are you proud of yourself?" Amanda asked, her voice dripping with toxic disdain.Nathan stopped adjusting his bag. He looked at her, his expression neutral

"Young Master!" the giant declared, his deep voice rumbling like thunder. "Dwayne, at your service."Nathan blinked, looking down at the three lethal operatives kneeling in a puddle of dirty rainwater. He scoffed, a genuine laugh escaping his chest. It was all too dramatic. "Get up," Nathan said, shaking his head. "Please, stand up. All of this is entirely unnecessary.""I must refuse, Young Master," Dwayne replied, his head still bowed. "It is protocol. I was created to serve the Syndicate, and to serve you. This is the first step. Absolute respect."Nathan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. The sheer weight of his old life was already crashing down on him. "Fine. But you're getting your lab-coat blazer dirty. Why are you guys here?"Dwayne finally lifted his head, his sharp eyes locking onto Nathan. The operative stood up smoothly, his two flankers rising a split-second later. "I am here to take you home, sir," Dwayne said simply.Nathan scoffed again, gesturing vaguely to the di