Before Max headed to his scheduled lectures for the day, he decided to take a detour toward the campus facilities where the Wushu club was supposed to meet. After his unsettling encounter with Dud, the gears in Max’s mind were turning faster than ever. He knew that a man as erratic and vengeful as Dud wouldn’t have just appeared out of thin air without a meticulously crafted plan.
In the early days, the Billion Bloodline group had the luxury of operating in the shadows. They managed to pull off impossible feats because they were the new kids on the block, and the element of surprise was their greatest weapon. The established powers never saw them coming. But those days were over. Now, they were the talk of the entire Underworld, a group that had risen to syndicate-level status in a flash, dismantling giants like the Black Hounds and the Gilt Rats. Max knew that fame brought eyes, and eyes brought predators.
Unfortunately, when he reached the club room, Max realized he had made a rookie mistake. The doors were locked, and a schedule posted on the side indicated that the club sessions didn’t start until the late afternoon.
’Damn it. I really haven’t been paying enough attention to the mundane details of student life,’ Max thought, a trace of annoyance crossing his face. ’Of course the clubs only meet after classes are finished for the day. I’m still thinking like a man who runs his own schedule, not a freshman.’
The other reason he had ventured over to this side of the campus was that he was currently standing in the heart of the sports department. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of Donto Stern in his natural habitat, perhaps on the training fields or in the gym, but the area was largely deserted except for a few students heading to early labs.
Realizing he was wasting time, Max turned back toward the main academic block. He found himself walking down the hallway toward his business lecture rather late. As he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with a man wearing a bright red athletic shirt and a full soccer uniform.
The man was well-built, with the kind of powerful leg muscles that only came from years on the pitch. Even with his hair tied back in a tight ponytail, he looked rough around the edges, less like an academic and more like a seasoned delinquent who happened to be good at sports.
"Hmm, looks like we have a late one," the man said, stopping in the middle of the hall to block Max’s path. He looked Max up and down with a condescending smirk. "I thought all of you over in the business department were supposed to be perfect little role models. Always on time, always in a suit."
Max bit his tongue, the instinctual urge to snap back with a sharp "who the fuck are you?" bubbling up in his throat. He suppressed it quickly. If this man was in a soccer uniform, there was a high probability he was on the same team as Donto. Getting into a petty hallway spat now would only compromise his cover later.
"Whatever, I’m not your professor," the man said, waving a dismissive hand as he started walking again. "Just get the others to tell you the news, and I’ll see you in the evening."
Max watched him go, a suspicious glint in his eyes. ’That was weird. What was someone from the sports department doing over here in the business wing? Was he visiting a girlfriend, or was he delivering a message?’
He also wondered if the man was an upperclassman. If he was a senior, he would almost certainly have a direct connection to Donto. For a fleeting second, Max’s old habits resurfaced. ’Maybe I should have just roughed him up a little in the stairwell and squeezed some information out of him. I could have done it in a way that ensured he wouldn’t say a word to anyone afterward.’
When Max finally entered the classroom, the lecture was already in full swing. Everyone was busy working away or taking notes, so he moved quietly to his seat and pulled out his books. In truth, Max spent very little time actually listening to the professor. His mind was occupied with the logistical nightmare of restructuring a syndicate.
He had initially thought these classes might help him with the development of the Stern family businesses he was now technically overseeing, but the introductory curriculum was painfully basic. Most of it was theory he had already mastered through trial and fire in the real world. Instead of following the lesson, he began sketching out ways to maximize the profit margins of the newly absorbed Gilt Rat territories.
’We need to do a full grading of the organization soon,’ Max thought, his pen dancing across the margins of his notebook. ’We have so many new members from the Black Hounds and the Gilt Rats who joined us after the war. We need to adjust their pay brackets so they feel invested, but we can’t just hand out money for free.’
He made a mental note to contact Wolf. ’I need to tell Wolf to handle the grading based on the group as a whole. It’s not just about whether a person meets the technical requirements to be a B-rank fighter; it’s about how they perform compared to everyone else in the Billion Bloodline. We need a competitive internal culture.’
"Hey."
A soft voice from his side broke his concentration. Max turned his head to see Talia and Yovan standing by his desk, looking slightly hesitant.
"I wanted to say thank you for returning my ID card earlier," Talia said, her voice genuine. "I really would have been in trouble without it. And... my friend here..."
"I can speak for myself, Talia," Yovan interrupted, though she looked significantly less aggressive than she had in the hallway. She looked Max in the eye, her posture stiff. "I wanted to apologize for accusing you of being a stalker earlier. It was a misunderstanding. Anyway, that’s that done. We’re even."
Max nodded once, accepting the apology without much fanfare. "It’s fine."
"Oh, and one more thing," Yovan added, her tone turning more serious. "Some of the higher-year students came by our dorms earlier. Apparently, there’s a massive event being organized between the seniors and the freshmen, a big mandatory party. They said we all have to attend."
"Mandatory?" Max asked, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing is mandatory in university. We’re all adults. If we don’t want to go, we shouldn’t have to."
The two women looked at each other nervously. Max caught the look and immediately felt a prickle of intuition. The man he had passed in the hallway, the soccer player, had he been the one to deliver this "invitation"? Had he threatened them?
At that exact moment, back in the sports department locker rooms, the man Max had passed in the hallway was walking into a meeting of the campus elite. Several heads of the senior year across various departments were gathered there, their expressions solemn.
In the center of the room stood one person who commanded the attention of everyone present. He stood taller than most, with a polished, athletic grace that masked a cold, calculating intensity.
"Alright, so everyone has spread the news about the big meetup tonight, right?" Donto Stern asked, his voice smooth and authoritative.
"Yes, sir!" the students replied in near-unison, their respect for him bordering on fear.
"Good," Donto said, a slow, dark smile spreading across his face. "We need to make sure every single freshman is there. Not a single person should be missed. You all understand that, right? This is a very special occasion."