X UNIVERSITY

“Dad, let me go!” Khy protested, his voice rising in desperation as his father dragged him through the bustling school gate, the eyes of curious students and teachers following their every move.

“No,” his dad replied curtly, his grip like iron around Khy's arm as he continued to haul him forward.

A sleek, black Porsche waited at the curb, gleaming in the afternoon sun. Without a word, his father yanked open the door and shoved Khy inside.

“Get in. We need to talk,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As soon as Khy was inside, the car roared to life, the powerful engine humming beneath them.

“Argh, what is it now?” Khy muttered, rubbing the back of his head in frustration as he glanced out the tinted windows at the receding school.

“I don’t like your behavior at school today. What’s up with you? How many times do I have to be called to the principal’s office? You’re making this hard for me,” his father’s voice echoed in the confined space, each word laden with disappointment and anger.

“Well, it’s not my fault that those crazy fuckers started it,” Khy shot back, his voice simmering with defiance.

“Watch your mouth! That’s not how I raised you,” his father snapped, the tension between them crackling like static electricity.

They continued to argue, their voices overlapping and growing more heated, until the car finally pulled up to the grand entrance of their mansion. The ornate gates swung open smoothly, revealing the sprawling estate beyond.

“Get out. We’ll continue this after dinner. Prepare yourself,” his dad ordered, slamming the car door shut behind him and striding towards the entrance of the mansion, his shoulders rigid with controlled anger.

“Great,” Khy mumbled to himself, kicking at the gravel as he reluctantly followed.

A few moments later.

The dinner was enveloped in an oppressive silence. Neither Khy nor his father dared to break it, the only sounds punctuating the stillness were the clinking of utensils against porcelain plates.

Vladimir, Khy’s father, kept his gaze fixed on his son, his eyes cold and unyielding. His mind replayed the events of the day, the confrontation at school still fresh and raw.

“I’m done,” Khy announced abruptly, rising from his chair and carrying his plate towards the kitchen.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Vladimir's voice cut through the air, stopping Khy in his tracks.

“I’m done eating. What do you want?” Khy shot back, his voice edged with irritation.

“Didn’t I tell you that we’d talk after dinner? I guess you need to be taught a lesson for not listening,” his father said with a chilling calmness, his piercing gaze boring into Khy.

Khy fumbled, his father's intimidating presence sending a shiver down his spine. He felt the weight of Vladimir's authority pressing down on him, making it hard to stand his ground.

“Fine,” he muttered, his defiance wilting under his father's stare.

“Good. Meet me in the study,” Vladimir commanded, turning his attention back to his meal as if nothing had happened.

Khy clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white as he watched his father calmly resume eating. Fury and frustration churned within him, and he turned away, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. He knew what awaited him in the study, and he steeled himself for the confrontation that was to come.

A few moments later.

Khy approached the study door with a mixture of apprehension and defiance. The polished oak seemed colder to the touch as he raised his hand to knock, the sound reverberating faintly through the silent hallway.

After a moment’s hesitation, he rapped on the door, each knock sounding louder than he intended in the hushed atmosphere.

“Come in,” his father’s voice called from within, its timbre cutting through the tension.

Pushing open the heavy door, Khy found his father seated behind a large mahogany desk, the room enveloped in the soft, warm glow of an antique lamp that cast deep shadows across the plush carpet.

The sight of his father, immaculately dressed in a tailored suit, sent a shiver down Khy’s spine. He closed the door behind him with deliberate care, standing just inside the threshold, his gaze locked on the stern figure before him.

“I don’t have time for your usual lectures, so let’s get to the point.” Khy stated bluntly, his tone edged with defiance as he moved further into the room, settling onto the couch with calculated nonchalance.

He propped his foot on the center table, an act of rebellion against the formality his father cherished.

“I won’t begin until you show me some respect,” his father replied sternly, his gaze fixed on Khy over the rim of his glasses, adjusting them with deliberate precision.

“Respect? What a joke. Did you show any respect when you abandoned my mother?” Khy shot back, a smirk playing on his lips despite the turmoil swirling within him.

“Enough of dredging up the past,” his father snapped, irritation flickering across his features like a storm cloud passing over the moon.

“Is it wrong for me to remind you?” Khy persisted, his voice laced with bitterness.

“That’s not what we’re here to discuss.” His father interrupted sharply, his tone brooking no further argument as he regained his composure with practiced ease.

“I spoke with the principal today. Most students are adamant about having you expelled due to your behavior.” His father continued, his disappointment palpable in the slight tremor of his voice.

“Do you even realize the chaos you caused? Numerous students were injured and are struggling with emotional distress because of your actions. Their parents are demanding compensation for medical expenses.” He added, the weight of his words heavy in the air.

“Despite my contributions to the school, it doesn’t change the fact that my own son is seen as a troublemaker.” His father lamented, his gaze momentarily dropping to the polished surface of his desk.

“I managed to persuade the principal to let you stay, but the faculty has already decided on your expulsion.” His father stated matter-of-factly, his voice tinged with finality.

“You will be transferring to another school.”

“What? What do you mean?” Khy exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief as the reality of his father’s decision sank in like an anchor dropping into the depths of his soul.

“You heard me. You’ll be attending Solterniv Academy. It’s one of the schools I’ve invested in.” His father declared firmly, his jaw set in unwavering resolve.

“You start tomorrow. Prepare yourself. And don’t think about causing any more trouble.” His father warned sternly, his gaze boring into Khy’s with unwavering intensity.

Khy slumped back in his seat, the leather cool against his skin as he struggled to contain the whirlwind of emotions raging within him.

Another new school, another fresh start—his frustration and resentment simmered beneath the surface, threatening to spill over, but he knew arguing further would be futile.

With a heavy heart and a storm of conflicting thoughts, he rose silently from the couch and turned towards the door, the weight of his father’s decision settling upon him like an unwelcome burden that threatened to crush his spirit.

The next day arrived with an overcast sky, casting a somber light over Khy’s arrival at his new school. Stepping out of the car, he immediately sensed a stark contrast to his previous educational environment. The air seemed charged with an unfamiliar tension, and the sprawling campus felt dauntingly large compared to the cozy confines of his former school.

As Khy walked towards the main entrance, he couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched. It was as if invisible eyes followed his every step, their scrutiny unsettling. The unfamiliar faces that passed him by seemed to deepen his unease, each glance feeling like a silent appraisal.

Approaching the administrative office with his father, Mr. Vladimir, Khy was greeted by the school’s principal, a composed woman with a warm but formal demeanor. “Mr. Vladimir, we are delighted that you chose this school for your precious son,” she greeted them, her smile tinged with professional courtesy.

“Thank you,” Mr. Vladimir replied, his voice carrying a note of anticipation. “I hope you’ll mold my son into a better individual.”

The principal nodded approvingly, acknowledging the responsibility entrusted to the school. “Very well, then. We shall leave you here. Class period is about to start. I’ll introduce Khy to my class,” she said, gesturing towards the direction of Khy’s first classroom.

Watching them walk away, Vladimir stood for a moment, observing his son and the teacher disappearing down the corridor. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of parental concern, knowing that this new environment would shape Khy’s experiences and friendships in the crucial years ahead.

—

The atmosphere in the classroom was a buzzing hive of youthful energy, each student wrapped up in their own little world of thoughts and whispers. Papers rustled, pens clicked, and occasional whispers floated across the room like wayward spirits seeking attention. But as the clock ticked closer to the start of the lesson, a subtle shift occurred—a silent anticipation that rippled through the room as the teacher entered.

Ms. Anderson, with her usual calm demeanor, carried an air of authority that commanded respect. Her presence alone was enough to still the room, and when she spoke, her voice cut through the ambient noise like a sharp knife through butter.

"Before we dive into today's lesson, I'd like to introduce a new member of our class," Ms. Anderson announced, her gaze sweeping across the expectant faces of her students. "Please, come in," she beckoned towards the door.

The hinges creaked as it swung open, revealing a figure standing hesitantly in the doorway. Khylovanov Yskeish Sergenev, or Khy as he preferred to be called, entered with a slight apprehension visible in his eyes. The students' curiosity piqued, their gazes sizing him up as he made his way towards an empty spot near the center of the room.

"Please introduce yourself to everyone, Khy," Ms. Anderson encouraged, gesturing towards the expectant faces turned towards him.

"Hello," Khy began, his voice carrying a quiet confidence that belied his initial nervousness. "My name is Khylovanov Yskeish Sergenev. You can call me Khy for short. It's nice to meet you all," he concluded in a plain, straightforward tone.

His introduction hung in the air for a moment, the students processing this new addition to their midst. Some exchanged glances, a few whispers fluttered like leaves in a gentle breeze.

"He's kinda hot," one voice whispered, barely audible but enough to make a few heads turn.

"His aura's strong," another comment followed, this time more openly, causing a ripple of murmurs amongst the students.

Ms. Anderson, ever observant of the dynamics in her classroom, smoothly redirected their attention. "Very well, Khy, please take a seat next to that empty chair there," she instructed, pointing towards an unoccupied desk.

With measured steps, Khy navigated the sea of desks until he reached the designated spot. The students' eyes followed his movements, their interest palpable yet veiled beneath their youthful facades. As he settled into his seat, Ms. Anderson began to delve into the day's lesson, her voice once again asserting its authority over the classroom.

Throughout the lesson, glances occasionally darted towards Khy, curiosity lingering like an unspoken question. The buzz of the classroom resumed, albeit with an added layer of intrigue surrounding the newest member of their cohort.

For Khy, it was the beginning of a journey—a journey not just through academics but also through the intricate social dynamics of high school life. And as the day unfolded, the classroom became more than just a place of learning—it became a microcosm where stories of friendship, rivalry, and growth would intertwine with each passing day.