A large teen paced around the room, his brows furrowed in deep thought. The youth's shoulders were big, his curly hair bouncing with every step he took.

Two other teens watched him silently, each seated on a comfortable arm chair. The mood was somber—filled with trepidation.

The room was more of a waiting room than it was a prison, but they all knew despite this, they were indeed in custody.

"How long are they going to keep us here?" Troy muttered with impatience, unable to keep still.

It had been hours since they'd been brought here, yet no one had so much as checked on them in this time. It was as if they'd been forgotten.

Randolph had his head lowered, his eyes red from the tears he'd shed, whereas Peter was somber—almost as if he'd accepted the situation.

"Are they going to expel us?" Randolph asked softly.

"There's a good chance," Peter beside him replied impassively. "Professor Stark looked as if he wanted to rip us apart…"

"Nonsense!" Troy thundered, turning a fierce gaze to the two. "Our families are in the upper echelons of the noble circle—even the headmaster would have to think twice about expelling us."

Despite his words, his tone suggested that he didn't exactly believe this.

"I told you we shouldn't have done it…" Randolph said, gritting his teeth, his hands clenched into fists.

"The fuck did you just say to me?" Troy's voice turned icy, stopping in place. His eyes glared at his little brother, the weakling who was the cause of embarrassment to their family.

Randolph flinched, shrinking back slightly.

"This is your fault, you piece of shit. If you could have handled your business, I wouldn't have had to intervene and teach that filthy commoner a lesson." Troy spat.

Peter stood up, letting out a sigh. "There's no use fighting amongst ourselves, Troy. The evidence against us is pretty damning, we need to be realistic. Even with our connections, I don't think that we'll get off scot-free."

"It was just a fight," Troy shot back, "at most they'll suspend us for a few weeks. Fights between teenagers happen all the time."

However, Peter shook his head, "That wasn't a fight Troy, we almost killed him." He replied, his tone somber.

A look of remorse crept onto Peter's face after his words. It seemed that his conscience had finally appeared after being given some time to think about his actions.

Before Troy could reply, the sound of locks being shifted entered their ears—causing the youths to turn to attention.

The door opened, revealing the tall and thin figure of Professor Stark. The man wore a cold expression, bearing down on the youths—looking at them as if they were nothing more than filth.

He moved aside, revealing another figure.

This man was a little shorter than Stark, with wide shoulders and a square jaw. His face was clean shaven, apart from a thick groomed mustache perched on his upper lip. His curly hair and brown eyes resembled two of the youths in the room.

Both Randolph and Troy paled after seeing the man.

"Father…"

When their father entered the room, another figure was revealed—a woman.

Peter's face morphed upon seeing his mother, but he kept his mouth shut upon seeing her detached glare.

"Your parents have come to collect you," Professor Stark stated, his tone icy. "As of now, you are no longer students of Arcadia academy."

He waved his arm, a black emblem lighting up on his the back of his hand.

With this action, the emblems on the back of the youths hands lit up before beginning to disintegrate into motes of light. The trio could only watch in shock as their emblems melted away—and thus their connection to the academy network.

"W-what do you mean we're no longer students!?" Troy stepped forward, his body quivering slightly. Everything had happened so fast, catching him off guard.

"It's exactly as I said, Mr. Bishop," Professor Stark replied coldly.

"Just wait a moment, you're really going to expel us for such a small incident!?" he exclaimed, his agitation clear. "Fights happen all the time in the academy, this is not the first time."

However, the tall professor did not bother to reply, his gaze impassive as if watching a child throwing a tantrum. Anger flitted through Troy's expression, his gaze imperceptibly moving to his father nearby.

The man was silent, his cold eyes gleaming in the lantern light. Just a single glance was enough to know that the Lord Bishop was incensed, but something held him back from exploding.

Troy's eyes lit up briefly, as if he'd come up with an idea. He turned to Stark and assessed him, losing his defensive demeanor.

"Tell me the truth, professor… You're punishing us because you want to send a message to the noble families, right?"

The air shifted perceptibly at his accusation.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Troy's lips, as if he was pleased with the change.

"This isn't about us is it? This is about putting the nobles in their place," he continued his monologue, "you don't really care about that commoner—you're just using us as a scapegoat to get back at the nobles…"

Professor Stark didn't react, yet his eyes showed his disinterest. "Are you done?"

"So you don't dare to admit it?" Troy let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head.

He turned to his father nearby, trying to ignore the daggers in his eyes, "Father, will you really allow the academy to walk all over us? Even after all of the donations that we've given to them all these years?"

Octavius Bishop gazed at his son for a while, not responding. His expression was difficult to read, but there was some hesitation in his movements—as if he was considering his next steps.

"My son has a point, Peter." He replied, his deep gravelly tone carrying a clear weight, cutting through the oppressive atmosphere.

"Expelling these boys seems like a rash decision. Like my son suggested, I suspect that there are some ulterior motives behind this move." He stated, rubbing his bare chin in thought.

All those in the room turned to Professor Stark, each wearing different expressions.

Would he fold under the weight of Lord Bishop's influence?

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