A ripple of disbelief spread through the campus like a shockwave. Heads turned, conversations died mid-sentence, and a collective intake of breath hung in the air. Then, the inevitable happened. Phones flickered to life, illuminating faces with their pale glow as thumbs flew across screens.
Shinning Nikki's message appeared first, sharp and incredulous: "Seriously, did anyone else just see the kings walk straight towards the ordinary block?"
Almost instantly, The Spartan replied, his words laced with disbelief: "I swear I thought I was seeing things when the janitors went up to the third floor of D block. That area is strictly off-limits, their private sanctuary."
A beat of silence, thick with unspoken questions, followed before Athenian's more analytical query broke through: "Wait, H class? Isn't that where they put the students who...struggle? Why would they go there?"
Sexy ice cream's response offered a swift, albeit speculative, explanation: "That's Megara's class. Maybe they heard about the commotion she caused and decided to step in."
The digital venom of Dao seed followed quickly: "Good riddance! Serves her right, xoxo. Hopefully, they'll expel her before she gets any more ideas."
Finally, HOPELESS's message echoed the simmering resentment felt by some: "Yeah it's only been two days since she attended this school and she is already trifling the authority of our kings."
The digital whispers continued to spread, each notification a fresh tremor in the already charged atmosphere.
Sugar BTS army's message added a layer of historical context, tinged with a hint of disdain: "that used to be the kings class it was also the place they used to get their servants from. Even Chris used to be a member of the class until he joined as their errands boy."
A more cautious voice emerged from I love RM: "I warn you that it's better to let the sly snake lie in a green grass than to rear it's poison."
Meanwhile, in the hallowed, or perhaps now haunted, halls of Grade 12 Class H, the moment that had been silently anticipated arrived with an almost theatrical flair. The Z3 entered, their presence a tangible weight that pressed down on the room. They moved with a synchronized arrogance, utterly disregarding Mr. Griffin, their teacher, who stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
Every student in the room, a sea of bowed heads, offered a silent obeisance. Respect, awe, and a primal fear radiated from them. To question the authority of the Z3 was unthinkable. Mr. Griffin, acutely aware of the power dynamic, remained mute.
Uriel, the apparent leader, surveyed the room like a monarch inspecting his dominion. His expression was a mask of cold indifference. He moved with deliberate slowness towards Damion, each step measured and imbued with a subtle threat.
"I see you've decided to add some flare to your uniform, Damion," Uriel finally spoke, his tone dangerously flat, "and it's a Hermes scarf."
Damion visibly trembled. A sheen of sweat slicked his palms, and his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. "I... I didn't know your eminence had a special liking for the Hermes scarf," he stammered, his voice a mere tremor. "I'd... I'd give it to you, if you like."
A dry, humorless laugh escaped Zack. He stylishly tugged at the fiery red hair pulled back in a severe bun. "Uriel is a king who enjoys Hermes' luxurious outfits, and Gucci is no exception. But you wanting to give him a rag worn by yourself can only be seen as a deliberate mockery." He moved with a fluid grace towards Uriel, pressing a pair of sharp scissors into his hand before sauntering to his seat at the back of the classroom.
Uriel's green emerald eyes narrowed, devoid of any warmth. He thrust the scissors into Damion's trembling hand. "Cut this piece of trash from around your neck. I don't want to see it." His voice was a low growl, an undeniable command.
"I can't!" Damion protested, his voice cracking. "That's my birthday gift from my father. He spent millions to get me this limited edition from last year's Milan show!"
Hugo, his brow furrowed with concern, walked to Uriel, who already seemed to teeter on the edge of a volatile outburst. "Let's let this slide, Uriel," he murmured, his words barely audible to the tense classmates. "You can't stop the entire school from wearing a Hermes brand, and even if you had the power, you can't stop the entire Brooklyn."
Uriel ignored him, his focus entirely on Damion. He seized the younger boy's shirt, his grip like iron, and with a swift, brutal motion, shredded the expensive silk scarf into useless ribbons. "Hugo," he spat, shoving a now sobbing Damion aside, "I can do just that. And if I wanted the entire city to do it, I sure as hell can, and no one, not even the president, dares to stop me." He stalked towards his seat, his movements radiating unchecked power.
Hugo sighed, a gesture of utter disappointment. He knew better than to challenge Uriel, and even Catherine, the rumored voice of reason among them, seemed powerless in moments like these. He walked past the petrified classmates and sat down next to Uriel and Zack.
Uriel's gaze locked onto Mr. Griffin, his emerald eyes like chips of glacial ice, boring into the teacher's fearful brown ones. "Mr. Griffin," he said, his voice dangerously soft, "do I have to remind you to carry on with lectures? If I have to do that, then you might as well head straight to HR for your final paycheck and never set foot in this school again."
The threat hung heavy in the air. Mr. Griffin visibly paled, his hand tightening around his tie. He tore his gaze away from the unsettling scene and, with a visible effort, cleared his throat. Just like that, the room seemed to exhale, and the students, though shaken, returned to the pretense of normalcy, their eyes darting nervously towards the back of the classroom where the Z3 now sat in silent dominance.
Megara's heart ached with a heavy mix of sadness and regret as she replayed the nurse's words about Jane. Tears welled in her eyes, a stark contrast to the newfound resolve hardening within her. Wiping them away, she muttered, "Maybe if I hadn't gotten the scholarship, I wouldn't have to witness such cruelty. But no more. I won't be a victim again. I'll stand up for myself and anyone the Z3 targets."
Stepping into the classroom, Megara's gaze was unwavering, her footsteps deliberate. Heads turned, but she ignored the stares, making a beeline for her desk. The presence of the Z3, usually an intimidating force, held no sway over her now. Hugo's eyes lit up as she approached, a silent admiration blooming within him.
Securing her loose hair into neat buns, Megara opened her notepad, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Blast, I'm late," she murmured, chewing on the end of her pencil. "I have no idea where the lesson is, but I'll catch up."
A gentle tap on her shoulder made her look up. Hugo's warm eyes met hers, a hint of concern softening his gaze. He held out his iPad. "Here. We're on the endocrine system. He just finished the pituitary gland and moved to the pancreas." A reassuring smile accompanied his offer.
"Thank you," Megara replied, her voice soft with gratitude as she took the device. "I owe you a coffee later."
Hugo shook his head, leaning back in his seat. "I'll be waiting right after school," he said, a note of anticipation in his voice. "Just copy it down so you don't miss anything."
Across the room, Uriel's expression darkened with jealousy and disdain. He kicked Megara's chair, the sharp noise cutting through the classroom's quiet. "It's pathetic that someone who arrives late thinks they can disrupt us elites," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "Get out and stop embarrassing yourself."
Megara turned briefly, her gaze steady, before standing to adjust her chair. "I don't care if some dogs bark and disturb the neighbors," she retorted, sitting back down and opening her notepad. "They just shouldn't try to infect everyone with their fleas."
Hugo and Zack exchanged knowing nods, suppressing their laughter, while Uriel seethed. He stalked to the front of Megara's desk, slamming his hands down, blocking her view.
"Are you out of your mind? Who are you calling a dog, Megara?" he sneered, tugging at his blonde hair. "I can see you're not only poor but brainless too." He punctuated his words with a mocking poke to her head.
To everyone's surprise, Megara stood up, a smirk playing on her lips. She firmly pushed Uriel's hand away. "I didn't call you a dog, but it's interesting you identify with one. Perhaps a Labradorian retriever?" she mocked, stepping closer to him, her eyes sizing him up. "I'm not afraid of you, Uriel. You've been cruel since day one, and I'm sure you want me gone. But that's not my problem. You go your way, and I'll go mine."
Uriel leaned in, his face inches from hers. "You will be gone soon enough, Megara, I promise you. But I'm willing to let you enjoy this place for a little longer... if you kneel and apologize to me properly." He stepped back, then leaned in again.
Hugo intervened, quietly pulling Uriel away. "Remember our deal, Uriel," he pleaded, pushing him back slightly. "She's new, and she's my friend. At least show some decency."
"I don't do decency, Hugo. And there's no deal. I said I'd show her mercy for a week, and we have five days left. But she's testing my patience," Uriel hissed, shoving Hugo aside and turning back to Megara, who remained unfazed. "I will make you beg, Meggie. And not even your friend or the principal can save you."
Megara smiled defiantly, poking his chest. "I'll be waiting, dreamer. I look forward to it. But rest assured, whatever you throw at me, I'll throw right back." She sat down, crossing her legs, her gaze unwavering.
Uriel was stunned. He hadn't expected such defiance. In a fit of rage, he stormed out of the classroom, the door slamming behind him. Hugo quickly followed, hoping to prevent any further outburst, while Zack gave Megara a thumbs-up and a friendly smile before joining Hugo. The teacher and the rest of the class could only stare, wondering where this girl had come from to challenge Uriel in such an unprecedented way.
AT THE BASKETBALL COURT(P.E CLASS)
The squeak of sneakers and the rhythmic thud of a basketball filled the air of the outdoor court during P.E. class. Students perched on the bleachers, a lively audience cheering on the practicing players. Megara entered the scene, clad in her grey sweatshirt and pants, her long hair loosely gathered in a bun. With a quiet confidence, she walked to the front row of the bleachers and settled down, her gaze fixed on the players.
A sigh escaped her lips as she subtly adjusted her hair. Such impressive height, such disappointing play, she mused, taking a swig from her water bottle. And they aspire to the national team? A soft snort betrayed her disbelief.
The friendly scrimmage continued, the crowd's energy high. Lost in a text exchange with Tobi, Megara's focus wavered. Suddenly, a basketball slammed into her face. The immediate pain was sharp, but it paled in comparison to the sight of her cracked phone screen on the concrete. A wave of cruel laughter washed over her as the boys exchanged smug glances before resuming their game.
A slow, wicked smile spread across Megara's face. Her eyes, however, held a cold, unforgiving glint. Deliberately, she twisted her hair into a tight knot. Picking up the basketball, she balanced it on a fingertip, rolling it with a controlled spin. A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers as Megara's gaze swept over the group of boys, assessing them.
One of the players swaggered towards her, attempting to snatch the ball. "What's your problem, newbie? Trying to ruin everyone's fun with your… your cheapness?" He shoved her shoulder, but Megara stood firm, unyielding.
With a dismissive snort, Megara bounced the ball once before feigning a throw towards their faces, then securing it in her grasp. "The only thing cheap around here is your manners. Has no one ever taught you the basic courtesy of an apology?" Her stance remained steady, her eyes locked on his. "Unless I hear those words, this ball stays with me."
Another boy joined the first, and soon a small crowd of them surrounded her. "Are you serious? Who do you think you are, challenging us? Want a lesson in basketball?" he taunted, eliciting a fresh wave of laughter from the spectators. "Listen to this, guys! Miss Priss here says we have to apologize or no ball!"
A chorus of loud boos erupted from the bleachers. "Get lost, loser! We don't want your charity!" a girl shrieked, and soon a chant filled the air: "Get out! Get out!"
Megara's smile remained, now edged with a subtle, calculating certainty. "I'm not leaving without an apology," she stated, bouncing the ball with a steady rhythm. "And I'll even show you how this game is really played. In return, you'll shut your mouths, apologize to me, and clean the entire school grounds." Her assertive gaze dared them to disagree.
The boys exchanged amused glances before their leader chuckled. "We agree. But if you lose, you'll be wearing lingerie and apologizing to Uriel. And that's not all – you'll be our pole dancer for the day." He smirked, gesturing for his teammates to spread out.
A sharp laugh escaped Megara. "Your mind is as twisted as your playing is predictable." She dribbled the ball with effortless grace, weaving through their clumsy attempts to intercept. With a final, swift movement, she launched the ball towards the hoop. A collective gasp of disbelief hung in the air as it swished through the net.
Disbelief etched across their faces, the boys exchanged frustrated glances. "Dude, am I seeing things? She hasn't even broken a sweat, and it's two-zero already. How is that even possible?" one boy stammered, his voice tight with tension.
"I don't know, maybe she's got some kind of enhanced shoes, like those pro players," another suggested, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Nah, look at her," a third scoffed, stepping forward to try and intercept Megara. "Enhanced sneakers cost thirty thousand dollars. A poor thing like her would have to sell herself for years to afford something like that." He sneered. "So, what's your secret, newbie? Fancy footwear, or are you just scared we'll actually try?"
Megara's laughter was laced with open mockery as she continued to bounce the ball. "You're such a simpleton!" she exclaimed. "These sneakers cost me five dollars, and I bought them three years ago." With a swift gesture, she pointed behind him. He instinctively turned his head, falling for the feint, giving Megara an opening to advance. "Twelve of you against one girl, yet you still fall for such a basic trick. And you have the audacity to brag?"
"You should really get your eyes checked!" she added, leaping into the air and effortlessly sinking another basket. "That's three for me, and still zero for you. So, start thinking about how you're going to clean the school, and what tools you'll need."
The entire hall fell silent, every gaze fixed on Megara as if she were an extraordinary being who had just materialized within their school. Her brilliance in academics was only matched by her astonishing prowess on the basketball court. Twelve boys had dared to challenge her, and she had systematically outmaneuvered them, the scoreboard stark at twelve to zero. Their mounting frustration led to underhanded tactics, yet Megara navigated them with effortless superiority.
The commotion drew the attention of Uriel, Hugo, and Zack, interrupting their conversation mid-sentence. Uriel's brow furrowed in a rare display of displeasure, Hugo's eyes sparkled with undisguised admiration as he eagerly sought a spot on the bleachers, while Zack couldn't resist a playful jab at Uriel. As Zack glanced up, he caught Tanya's eye, a fleeting connection before she looked away.
Uriel, visibly irritated, shoved past a student and plopped down on the bleacher. "I can't believe this girl is either incredibly dense or poverty has driven her to such delusion that she thinks she can conquer everything," he scoffed, draping his towel around his neck. "Honestly, just looking at her might make me sick. And those masculine clothes! So unladylike."
Hugo shot him an annoyed look, his attention still fixed on Megara. "Nobody asked you to watch, Uriel. You're not the center of the universe." He chided, waving enthusiastically at Megara, who returned the gesture. "Go Meggie! You've got this!"
A wave of curious stares washed over Hugo before shifting back to Megara.
Uriel spat, adjusting his jersey. "Stop making a scene, Hugo! You're embarrassing me. Besides," he added, stretching, "I have an unresolved rivalry with her."
Zack erupted in genuine laughter, his stylishly messy hair falling to the side, eliciting admiring gasps from some of the girls. He casually gathered it into a loose bun. "Do you like this girl, Uriel? You can't stop talking about her." He said, raising his hands defensively as Uriel shot him a lethal glare.
"Don't talk rubbish!" Uriel warned, striding onto the court. "Let's see what you're really capable of, Megara."
A palpable surprise rippled through the onlookers as Uriel stepped onto the court, the air thick with anticipation. He raked a hand through his blonde hair before swiftly intercepting the ball from Megara.
The defeated boys froze, exchanging bewildered glances. "Boss, we were just trying to teach her a lesson before you came. Shouldn't it be fair if you let us continue?" The captain asked, his head bowed respectfully.
Uriel spun the ball expertly on his finger. "It hardly looked like a lesson. She's already schooled you like the rags you are. And as captain, you should step down and take responsibility for this embarrassment." He rebuked, delivering a sharp kick to the captain's knee, shocking everyone. The captain crumpled to the floor, his team hastily following suit, kneeling beside him.
Megara's brow furrowed, her expression hardening, her fists clenched. "Uriel, I understand you rule this court, but these walking mannequins owe me an apology and an after-school cleaning duty." She stated, her glare fixed on the trembling captain.
Uriel turned, closing the distance between them, leaning in close to her face. "That's outrageous! You've defied me, and now you want my subordinates to do your bidding? Isn't that a bit predictable? Aren't you afraid you'll stir up more trouble?" A hint of mischief danced in his eyes. "Just apologize to me, and I'll let it all slide."
Megara leaned in, their lips almost touching. "Your boys agreed to the challenge and lost face. How is that my concern?" She retorted, poking his chest sarcastically. "Look, dream on, Uriel Oman Jefferson. I will never kneel to you. I'm tired; it's twelve to zero. They lost. I expect to see you cleaning the school premises, so enjoy the time you have left."
Without giving Uriel a chance to respond, she turned and walked off the court, leaving Uriel to glare at his kneeling team before tossing the ball back to the captain, signaling them to resume their interrupted game..