### Chapter 3
The students stared in absolute awe at the figure walking into the school in a high-end, tailored suit, squinting as they tried to recognize his face. None of the onlookers whispering in the corridor would ever suspect that the premium threads were actually rented.
Solomon navigated the hallway with an air of complete nonchalance, entirely indifferent to the burning gazes of his peers.
```
[ Host, you are undeniably attractive in that attire, ] the system chimed, its tone swaying slightly.
```
Solomon's lips twitched. I'm not here to put on a fashion show for anyone.
His terse mental response silenced the entity. Clutching his textbook tightly, Solomon walked over to his locker to store his belongings, but before he could close the metal door, he felt the distinct weight of multiple presences locking onto his back.
He turned slowly, raising an eyebrow at the gathering crowd. He recognized every single one of them. They were students from the elite track, whose families belonged to the influential B-class and A-class districts. In the past, these upper-tier youths had frequently harassed him whenever he was seen walking with Cassy, the undisputed beauty of the D-class department. But now that Cassy had publicly discarded him, he couldn't fathom what they were looking to gain.
They're acting like predictable obstacles in a cheap narrative, Solomon thought, reviewing his memories with detached amusement.
"Hey, Solomon. You're still drawing breath?"
The speaker was a tall youth sporting an intricate neck tattoo and elegantly styled blonde curls. His name was Alex, the undisputed ringleader of the elite clique, and he was as repulsive as they came. Solomon had zero interest in engaging with him.
"Yes, I'm still breathing," Solomon replied flatly. He shut his locker door, securing his backpack inside while holding onto the specific textbook required for his morning lecture.
"You're alive, sure, but Cassy's already moved on to a real man," Alex sneered, his grin widening. He acted as though he were merely passing along fresh gossip, but the malicious glint in his eyes betrayed his true intentions. "What's the matter, Luckson? Didn't like the taste of being cuckolded?"
Solomon merely narrowed his eyes, his posture remaining rigid. "What exactly do you want, Alex?" His eyes flicked to the corridor clock. Morning registration was scheduled to begin precisely at eight o'clock, and that was his current priority.
"Look at him, boys—the rejected dog of the D-class goddess," Alex laughed, turning to his subordinates, who immediately echoed his mocking theater.
Solomon stared back at them as if they were a collection of clowns. In his eyes, their behavior was entirely juvenile, resembling children playing at dominance. Yet, despite his cold analysis, a sudden surge of heat rushed to his temples.
Green grass on your head... the cuckold's crown... The degrading taunts of the district echoed in the back of his mind. A darker impulse urged him to physically shatter their arrogance right here in the hallway, but he quickly suppressed it; he had no desire to trigger an immediate suspension that would jeopardize his academic standing.
```
[ System Assignment Initialized: Force Alex and his subordinates to pay a direct emotional toll for their public mockery. ]
[ Reward: $20,000 Cashback Deposit. ]
[ Failure Penalty: Permanent Academic Expulsion with zero recourse. ]
```
You truly are a demonic entity, Solomon thought, his lips twitching at the screen. The system seemed to flip constantly between a benefactor and an adversary. It never allowed him to secure capital easily; the monetary rewards were substantial, but the structural stakes were invariably perilous.
"Hey, Alex," Solomon said suddenly, a faint, deceptive smile touching his lips.
If he wanted to dismantle Alex's position, the most efficient method was to force him to endure the exact same public humiliation he was attempting to project.
"You know, Cassy actually confided in me once," Solomon murmured, pitching his voice just loud enough for the surrounding students to catch. "She admitted she had a massive crush on you for semesters, but she always felt too inadequate to approach an elite student."
Alex's smirk faltered, his chest puffing out slightly. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. In fact, she's standing right behind you at this very moment," Solomon smirked, tilting his chin toward the end of the corridor.
Alex spun around instantly. Spotting Cassy walking toward her locker, a foolish, arrogant smile broke across his face. He strode over confidently and snatched her hand, lowering his head to press a theatrical kiss against her knuckles. "Goddess, I knew you'd eventually recognize real status. Let's make this official."
Predictably, Cassy recoiled in immediate disgust, violently wrenching her hand free and shoving Alex backward with enough force to send him stumbling into a row of lockers—an outcome Solomon had mathematically anticipated.
A sharp chime resounded within his consciousness:
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[ Mission Requirements Fulfilled. ]
[ $20,000 Cash Credit deposited successfully. ]
```
```
[ Inevitable complaint: Host, why must you consistently trivialize my operational parameters? An average user would require multiple calculation cycles and complex schemes to navigate an emotional retaliation task. ]
```
So you freely admit you intentionally structured that task to entrap me? Solomon countered mentally, his jaw tightening slightly.
The interface was proving to be a constant source of friction. When the notification had first initialized, he had briefly felt a wave of tension, but he had forced himself to breathe through the anxiety and break down the core mechanics of the conflict. What was the absolute definition of retaliation? It was the systematic return of an injury, either magnified or mirrored precisely. By manipulating Alex's predictable ego, he had allowed Cassy to completely fracture the elite student's public standing.
Alex scrambled up from the linoleum floor, desperately brushing dust off his uniform. His face was crimson with rage, and he refused to even look at Cassy before sprinting down the hall to escape the giggles of the onlookers.
I'm drawing an immense amount of local hostility purely to satisfy these system prompts, Solomon observed silently as he watched the youth retreat.
"Solomon? You're actually here?"
Cassy had walked over, her eyes initially widening in profound shock as she took in his striking appearance and the sharp lines of his suit. She quickly masked her astonishment, her features twisting into a standard sneer. "Pathetic. Do you honestly believe playing dress-up like a high-tier clown is going to make me regret my choices?"
"Are you completely out of your mind?" Solomon asked, offering her a calm, empty smile.
The directness of his words caught her off guard, leaving her stammering for a response. "Excuse me? What did you just say?"
"I asked if you were losing your sanity,"
Solomon clarified, leaning in slightly, his gaze dropping to her midsection. "Or perhaps you'd prefer I conclude the transaction we started in the ward the other afternoon? Let's see... did I leave my medical scalpel in this breast pocket?"
He reached deliberately into his jacket, his left eye locking onto hers with a dead, unblinking focus.
Cassy shrieked, clamping a hand over her mouth as sheer terror drained the color from her face. She turned on her heel and fled down the corridor, her heels clicking frantically against the floor.
What a waste of energy, Solomon thought, a brief flash of melancholy touching his eyes before his expression returned to a neutral mask.
The morning bell rang, vibrating through the metal walls to signal the start of the first instructional block. Solomon smoothed the lapels of his suit and walked deliberately into his classroom, leaving the chaotic hallway drama behind. This institution had once represented his baseline pathway—the metric through which he would graduate as a certified D-class worker to quietly provide for his grandmother. But the parameters of his life had grown infinitely more complex.
Since the afternoon his life had been threatened, his trajectory had shifted irrevocably. His perspective had hardened.
"Class, please pass your assignments forward to the podium."
The lecture hall shifted as students stood up to submit their terminal printouts. Solomon followed suit, moving down the tiered steps to place his document onto the central desk.
. However, the moment he set his sheets down, the instructor deliberately flicked his wrist, sliding Solomon's folder clean off the smooth surface so that it scattered onto the floor.
Solomon remained perfectly composed. He knelt, gathered his pages, and replaced them neatly on the desk.
Without a word of explanation, the teacher used the edge of his tablet to push the folder off the desk a second time. Solomon bent down once more, retrieved the papers, and stacked them precisely in the center of the workspace.
When the instructor reached out to deflect the file for a third time, Solomon froze, his cold gaze rising to meet the man's eyes. A bead of nervous sweat materialized on the teacher's brow under the weight of that unblinking stare.
Clearing his throat nervously to break the tension, the instructor snapped, "Solomon Luckson, you are actively obstructing the queue and delaying your peers. Remove yourself from the podium line immediately."
"Understood, instructor," Solomon said, his voice smooth as he stepped away from the desk, having verified his submission was logged.
Within this academic framework, the human staff merely managed the physical lecture spaces, while their integrated personal AI assistants handled the automated grading scripts. The evaluation process was exceptionally swift; within thirty minutes, the instructor recalled the data files to his main screen. One by one, the students' names were read aloud, and each walked up to retrieve their digital mark sheets.
But when the index reached Solomon's data profile, the routine ground to a sudden halt.
"Solomon Luckson. Step down to the front podium immediately."
Solomon adjusted the cuffs of his blazer and walked down the center aisle, the collective attention of the lecture hall pinning him to the front of the room.
"Solomon Luckson, the institutional grading algorithm has flagged your submission for direct plagiarism of an elite track portfolio."
"Is that so?" Solomon asked, a sharp smile appearing on his face, though it didn't reach his cold eyes.
The instructor stammered slightly under his gaze before doubling down. "I said you have committed plagiarism, Luckson. Academic theft carries an automatic penalty of immediate, permanent expulsion from this facility."
"Then I will simply establish my innocence," Solomon stated, without a single flicker of panic in his expression.
He didn't bother begging or pleading for a review; he knew precisely how the bureaucratic machinery of this school operated. A baseline student didn't get flagged by an automated script without manual interference. Someone with structural authority was actively targeting him—and he calculated that Cassy's B-class benefactor was likely pulling the strings behind the scenes.
```
[ Sub-Mission Initialized: Expose the fraudulent academic charge. ]
[ Rewards: +1 Global Reputation Point & $5,000 Cashback Deposit. ]
```
You're getting remarkably predictable, system, Solomon thought.
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[ Correction: You are the beneficiary of these liquidity injections, host! ] the interface pulsed, clearly dissatisfied with his cold evaluation.
```
Solomon ignored the digital text, focusing his full attention on the immediate academic threat.
"I am officially entering a plea of absolute innocence regarding this directive,"
Solomon announced, his voice carrying clearly across the tiered seating. "To resolve this matter impartially, I request an immediate review of the corridor CCTV surveillance records. Furthermore, if the faculty questions my comprehension of the material, I am entirely prepared to sit for a proctored examination right now."
He clasped his hands behind his back, his posture perfectly professional. The instructor's face flushed with an intense, burning frustration. There were over two hundred students watching the interaction unfold; if the administration denied a student the standard constitutional right to an evidentiary review, the institution's public reputation registry would suffer an immediate penalty.
Solomon caught the slight twitch in the teacher's jaw, knowing the man had no logical vector to deny his request.
The entire class, alongside the administrative staff, filed down the corridor to the central security monitoring hub.
However, after the technician pulled up the standard hallway archive for the specified period, the files showed nothing but corruption. The surrounding students began to murmur, casting looks of condemnation and pity at Solomon.
Solomon simply smiled. The conspirators had systematically purged the primary network logs, but they had overlooked a critical operational variable.
He stepped around the security console, his fingers flying across the terminal keys as he bypassed the school's primary operating system to access an independent, localized partition. A hidden video feed flickered to life on the main security monitors—a perspective no one in the administration had authorized.
On the clear playback screen, the entire room watched as the flagged elite-track student skillfully picked the lock on Solomon's locker, extracted his handwritten draft sheets, and used a portable scanner to copy the data before replacing the original files.
The monitoring room fell into a dead silence.
The students turned their heads to stare at Solomon, the reality of the situation completely shifting. He hadn't lied; he had been telling the absolute truth from the beginning.
The instructor stood frozen, his face twisting into an awkward, forced grin as he tried to salvage his position. "Well... Solomon... it appears there has been a significant technical misunderstanding among the staff," he chuckled nervously, glancing at his colleagues for support. "Errors occur in any human system, after all."
"Indeed. And some errors carry severe regulatory penalties," Solomon replied, his words cutting through the false laughter and silencing the room instantly.
```
[ Sub-Mission Concluded. ]
[ +1 Reputation Point assigned to host profile. ]
[ $5,000 Cashback currency deposited. ]
[ Current Wallet Status: (Temporarily locked due to synchronization protocols; balance display hidden). ]
```
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[ Diagnostic query: Host, explain your behavioral metrics. Why did you clandestinely install a secondary, unauthorized surveillance node within an educational facility? ]
```
To ensure my own survival, Solomon thought back dryly. He valued the integrity of his private workspace and never left his resources exposed to external variables. Today, that tactical redundancy had preserved his academic standing.
"That specific camera feed..." the instructor muttered, his eyes narrowing as he studied the unique digital timestamp on the monitor. "That does not originate from the school's approved hardware inventory."
"No, it doesn't," Solomon stated simply.
The instructor ground his teeth, his knuckles turning white as he realized exactly how his trap had been dismantled. "Remove that unauthorized hardware from the locker bay immediately," he commanded, his voice rising in pitch.
"Consider it done," Solomon shrugged indifferently.
He turned on his heel and strode out of the monitoring hub, leaving the stunned gathering of students and faculty entirely behind him.