The morning had been thick with a lingering tension that seemed to hover over the business department like a heavy fog. As Max moved through the corridors, his ears were constantly tuned to the low-frequency chatter of his peers. The topic of the evening’s senior-led event was on everyone’s lips, spoken about with a mixture of excitement and a very distinct, underlying dread.
’I really didn’t want to go,’ Max mused, his mind sifting through the strategic implications of his presence. ’If the seniors are hosting, it means Donto will be the guest of honor. While it’s the perfect opportunity to gather intelligence on his social standing and influence, I have no baseline for how Donto would react to seeing me here on his turf.’
He paused by a window, looking at his own reflection. ’I don’t even know how the previous Max Stern was treated by him. But if Donto is the one who authorized the hit on my life, seeing me walk around healthy and confident isn’t going to be good for my undercover status.’
Walking through the halls of June Stone University, Max had begun to notice a recurring pattern in how people perceived him. He had a certain "look"—a sharp, uncompromising edge that signaled to most people that they should keep their distance. The original Max Stern body had been a map of frailty, weakness, and fading bruises, a magnet for opportunistic predators.
But this new version was fundamentally different. He walked with a steady, predator-like confidence, and his hair—styled with a deliberate, sharp precision—marked him as someone who wasn’t afraid to stand out. In the world of delinquents and street toughs, this attracted two very specific types of trouble.
The first were the classic bullies who preyed on the weak to vent their frustrations or to feel a fleeting sense of superiority. Max no longer fell into that category. The second type, however, were those who constantly butted heads with anyone they perceived as a rival. These were the alphas looking to prove their strength by toppling anyone who looked like they might be a threat.
Although Max’s information on Donto was still fragmented, the rumors he had intercepted were consistent: the boy was a magnet for violence. Donto had been involved in a string of severe scuffles, some so violent that any regular student would have been expelled and banned from collegiate sports for life. No doubt the sheer weight of the Stern family’s wealth had acted as a shield, keeping him on the soccer team regardless of his body count.
And this aggressive streak wasn’t limited to the heir. The entire soccer team was infamous for their "enforcer" mentality. Seeing the visible fear in his classmates after a single visit from one of Donto’s cronies confirmed that the sports department was essentially a legalized gang within the university. Max knew that if he attended the party, he would stick out like a sore thumb to a pack of wolves looking for a fight.
He decided that the most tactical move was to decline the invitation through a middleman. He headed over to where Jono was sitting, the most approachable member of the class and the self-appointed social coordinator of the freshmen.
"Hey Jono, sorry to bother you, but I have a favor to ask," Max said, leaning against a nearby desk.
"Max?" Jono replied, clearly startled. He adjusted his glasses, looking genuinely surprised that the resident "ghost" of the department had actually sought him out. Since the first day, Max had kept everyone at arm’s length, so a direct approach was unusual.
"I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to make it to the senior gathering this evening. I didn’t want you to get in trouble with the organizers if I just didn’t show up, so I thought it was best to mention it to you directly."
Jono’s expression faltered. "Are you sure you can’t come? I mean, it’s just one evening, right? It’s supposed to be the big icebreaker."
It wasn’t the response Max expected, but before he could offer a fabricated excuse about a family emergency or work, Jono sighed and shook his head.
"Actually, you’re not the only one. Quite a few people have told me they can’t make it. Some have pre-existing plans, others have dates, and some... well, they’re just plain scared of the seniors. I guess everyone is coming to me because they see me as the class rep, so I should probably live up to the title and go tell them the news."
Jono stood up, but Max noticed his legs were visibly shaky. The weight of the responsibility was clearly pressing down on him, and the fear of the sports department’s "invitation" was real. Max felt a rare pang of pity for the guy. Jono was trying to be a leader, but he lacked the teeth to back it up.
’Well, they wouldn’t actually do anything violent, right?’ Max thought, trying to rationalize the situation. ’This isn’t a high school filled with delinquents like the one I attended in Notting Hill. This is a top-tier university.’
But even as the thought formed, he remembered that he was a Stern, and where the Sterns went, trouble followed like a loyal shadow.
Jono left the room with a determined but trembling stride, searching for the senior who had visited them earlier. He found him just outside the lecture hall. The man, known as Sylan, was leaning against a pillar, looking bored and dangerous in his athletic gear.
"What the heck are you doing here?" Sylan asked the moment Jono approached, his eyes narrowing.
"Ah... I actually came to talk to you about the event tonight," Jono said, nervously scratching the back of his head. "You see, most of us are excited to come, but I wanted to let you know that a few students have family situations or prior commitments. I know you said everyone must attend, so I thought I should give you a heads-up so you don’t think we’re being disrespectful."
Sylan straightened up, his bored expression instantly replaced by a flash of predatory anger. "Do you think this is a joke?"
He stepped into Jono’s personal space, looming over him. "It’s one evening. One event meant to show respect between the seniors and the newcomers. If these people were well enough to come to fucking class today, then they’re well enough to turn up to the party. It seems no one took my words seriously."
Sylan grabbed Jono by the shoulder, his grip tightening until Jono winced. "You’re coming with me. It looks like your class needs another visit to understand exactly what ’compulsory’ means!"