The disciplinary chamber crackled with tension as Layla Nowa's violet eyes burned into Ashen.
"Your actions will result in expulsion," she hissed. "Prepare yourself."
Ashen leaned back in his chair, a lazy smirk curling his lips. "Oh? And who exactly do you think is backing me, President? My dear sugar mommy, perhaps?" He tapped his fingers against the table. "No one can expel me from this academy. Understand?"
Layla's grip on her pen tightened. "Confident, are we?"
"That's not confidence, dear," Ashen corrected, his voice dripping with amusement. "That's fact."
She slammed her palms on the obsidian table. "I don't need higher approval. With my authority, I can strip your privileges, revoke your dorm access, and make your life here hell."
Ashen chuckled. "Go ahead. Take whatever you want. Truthfully, I only found out today that Rank 1 meals are free—and I've got a million credits to spare. That's enough to survive a whole year, you know?"
He tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "But fine. Let's compromise. Suspend my privileges for two months. Go all out."
Layla's eyes narrowed. "Why one months?"
"Because," Ashen said, his grin widening, "the Student Council will change hands by then."
Silence.
Then—outrage.
Lucielle's golden eyes flashed. "You're delusional."
Ashen ignored her, locking onto Layla. "Do you really think you stand a chance? Rayne's faction has the top Rank 1 and 2 from third year. Or do you think Kali—the Poison Queen herself—would never join him?"
Layla scoffed. "Kali didn't even participate last year. There's no way—"
"Ask her yourself," Ashen interrupted. "Or better yet, ask Rayne." He stood, his shadow stretching ominously. "And that's not all. His faction has this year's Rank 1—me. Rank 2—Nyx. And Rank 3—Rin." He smirked. "Your defeat is inevitable."
Layla's composure cracked. "You arrogant—"
"This meeting is over." Ashen turned on his heel, striding toward the door.
Lucielle shot up from her seat. "Ashen—!"
He didn't look back.
Case closed.
[System: Well. That escalated quickly.]
The thought of expanding his shadow army nagged at Ashen. With only Volkin remaining after the disciplinary fiasco, the forest called to him—a hunting ground for new recruits. But first, transportation.
The bike shop's prices were criminal.
"Five million credits for that?" Ashen scoffed, eyeing the sleek, onyx-black Nightshade model—his dream ride. The shopkeeper merely shrugged. "Dream bikes demand dream prices, sir."
[System: Could always steal it.]
"Tempting. But I'd rather not give Evelyn another excuse to fry me."
He left empty-handed but determined. The bike would be his—just not today.
Dinner surpassed even the academy's most lavish offerings. His maid, Masha, had outdone herself—seared thunderbeast steak, molten chocolate soufflé, all served with a side of nervous glances.
[System: She's either terrified of you or plotting your poisoning.]
"Both, probably."
Sleep came easy, lulled by plans of chaos and conquest.
For once, Ashen arrived early. Masha's frantic shaking at 7:55 AM had succeeded.
His usual seat beside Sasha was occupied.
Eren Whitehound lounged there, smirking, his boot propped on the desk. Sasha sat rigid beside him, her notes crumpled under his grip.
Ashen's shadow twitched.
[System: Oh, this'll be fun.]
Two hours passed in silent tension.
Evelyn's elective class was its usual masochistic delight. Lightning arced through the training grounds, students convulsed, and Ashen—well, he almost redirected a bolt into Eren's smug face.
Almost.
[System: Restraint? Since when?]
"Patience. The game's afoot."
Break time.
Ashen barely registered Layla's approach before the crack echoed across the courtyard.
Sasha stumbled, her cheek blooming red, tears cutting tracks through her pale skin. Eren loomed over her, hand raised for another strike—
—until Ashen caught his wrist.
"Well, well." His voice was velvet-wrapped steel. "Who made my girlfriend cry?"
Silence.
Then chaos.