The rain was relentless the next morning, hammering against the tall, iron-framed windows of Saint Eden High like a relentless army.
Dark clouds hung low over the gothic buildings, soaking the cobblestone paths and turning the air heavy and cold.
Elian stood under the worn stone archway, watching students rush by — laughing, flirting, shouting — as if the sky wasn't crashing down above them.
He stayed still.
Waiting.
Watching.
The message had arrived in the dead of night, slipped under his dorm room door in a plain white envelope:
"The package is ready. Move quickly. Before he does."
Attached was a USB drive.
On it, evidence so explosive it could rip Jordan Weiss's life to shreds.
---
Elian didn't hesitate.
He moved through the shadows, blending with the sea of umbrellas and hoodies, and made his way to the administrative building — the very heart of Saint Eden's corrupt power.
The secretary barely glanced up as he walked past.
Students didn't mess with administration records unless they had a death wish.
But Elian had the advantage now.
Inside a forgotten corridor lined with filing cabinets and faded plaques, he found the old server access room — secured by nothing but a rusty keypad.
He punched in the code he had "borrowed" from a carelessly discarded note on the Vice Principal's desk.
The door clicked open.
Inside, the servers hummed like a living thing.
And it was here that Elian uploaded the video.
---
The evidence was brutal:
Jordan, in a grimy back alley behind a nightclub, exchanging cash for small, glittering packets.
Laughing.
Shoving a trembling underclassman against the wall when she hesitated.
Sneering as he poured powder into his drink, tossing the empty bag over his shoulder.
Everything was clear.
His face.
His voice.
His cruelty.
Unmistakable.
---
When the morning assembly began, Elian sat calmly in the auditorium, second row from the back, his head bowed in false boredom.
The principal, a rigid man with hollow eyes, cleared his throat into the microphone.
Students whispered, shifting nervously as heavy security guards stood posted at every exit.
Something was happening.
Something big.
Finally, the principal's voice boomed out:
"We regret to inform you that evidence has surfaced regarding serious breaches of our school's code of conduct by one of our students."
Gasps filled the room.
Jordan, sitting cockily with his arm slung around a pretty sophomore, frowned.
The principal continued:
"Effective immediately, Jordan Weiss has been expelled pending criminal investigation."
A thunderous silence fell.
Jordan shot up from his seat, face twisted with rage.
"What the hell?!" he shouted. "You can't — this is a joke, right?!"
The security guards moved toward him.
"No — no, wait!" Jordan shoved his way out of his seat, stumbling as the pretty sophomore scrambled away from him like he was a live grenade.
His so-called friends backed off, their eyes wide, fearful.
Jordan looked around desperately — but there were no allies here.
Not anymore.
The guards grabbed him by the arms.
He fought like a trapped animal, shouting curses that echoed off the marble walls.
And Elian?
Elian watched, expressionless.
Jordan's eyes locked with his across the room.
Recognition flashed there — sudden, terrible.
A question hung between them.
"You?"
But before Jordan could say a word, he was dragged away.
Gone.
Just like that.
---
The students buzzed with a frenzy of gossip as they were dismissed early.
"Did you see the video?"
"I heard it was drugs — hard drugs!"
"Jordan? No way — he was rich! Why would he need that?"
Elian slipped through the chaos unnoticed, invisible once again.
He didn't celebrate.
He didn't smile.
Because this was just the beginning.
---
Back in the secret parlor, Liliana sipped her tea, watching the live security feed with a small, satisfied smirk.
Sebastian chuckled darkly.
"Your little pet moves quickly."
Liliana's eyes gleamed.
"He's not a pet," she murmured.
"He's a wolf in sheep's clothing."
And soon, she thought, he would tear this entire empire apart — just as she had planned.
---
Meanwhile, in a hidden penthouse high above Saint Eden, a silver-haired man watched the same video on a giant screen, his face unreadable.
Beside him, a woman with sharp green eyes whispered:
"Shall we intervene?"
The man said nothing for a long time.
Finally, he muttered:
"Not yet.
Let him sharpen his claws first."
---