"Today's discussion is: what's more painful, childbirth or getting kicked in the balls?"
Mark could hear Miss Jed's voice as he approached the classroom. She was the Character Education teacher, a class designed to make students think about life beyond textbooks. She was funny, sharp, in her early thirties, and genuinely enjoyed stirring up debate.
Mark entered a few minutes late and passed by her desk. Miss Jed was dressed in her usual style—professional enough for school policy but with a mini skirt that showed off her curves and reminded everyone she was young enough to still be relatable.
She glanced at him but didn't call out his tardiness. Just raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to find a seat.
Mark scanned the classroom. In the back, Henry was sitting with Alex, both of them watching Mark with expressions he couldn't quite read.
Then he looked toward the middle rows and saw Sherry Braithwaite, who'd saved an empty seat next to her and was gesturing for him to sit. She looked pleased with herself, like she'd won something just by reserving him a spot.
"Hey, Sherry," Mark said as he settled into the chair beside her.
"Hey. Reserved you a seat," she replied, smiling. Her voice carried that tone—the one that said she was making an effort, that she'd noticed him, that things had changed between them.
"I know that most of you are young," Miss Jed continued from the front, pacing as she talked. "We have no mothers in here yet. But we're all aware of the pain that girls—" she smiled slightly "—or rather, women go through while giving birth. The contractions, the hours of labor, sometimes days. It's biological warfare."
"Yeah, we all know," came a voice from the front row. Impatient, wanting to skip to the argument.
"And even if some of us don't have balls—" Miss Jed continued, and the class erupted into laughter right on cue "—we all know that getting kicked there isn't exactly a pleasant experience either."
This was an old debate, one that had probably played out in Character Ed classes for decades. Mark was familiar with it. Beside him, Sherry was leaning closer, muttering something about how much he'd changed when Miss Jed's eyes landed on them.
"Miss Braithwaite and Mr. Lidorf," Miss Jed said, pointing with her marker. "You two seem far off in your own world. Perfect. You're going to give me your opening arguments."
The class got excited immediately. This was entertainment.
"Yes, ladies first," Miss Jed said with a flourish.
Sherry stood up gracefully, smoothing her skirt. Mark's eyes followed the movement, noting how the uniform fit her perfectly. How she knew exactly how to carry herself to maximize attention.
She's just perfect, he thought, then pushed it away. Focus.
"I think there's no pain comparable to childbirth," Sherry said confidently. "Women literally die giving birth. It still happens, even with modern medicine. And I've never heard of a man who died because he got kicked in the testicles." She sat down to scattered applause, looking satisfied.
"Nice take," Miss Jed acknowledged. "Logical. Evidence-based. Now, Mr. Lidorf, what's your counter-argument?"
"The nerd's gonna speak!" Merrick's voice called out from the back, and students laughed.
Mark stood up slowly. The entire school could testify he'd changed physically—the clothes, the confidence, the way he carried himself. But they all knew, or thought they knew, that he wasn't a strong public speaker. That the old Mark would stumble through this, nervous and awkward.
"Good morning to you all," Mark said calmly, and something in his tone made the laughter die down. He wasn't nervous. Wasn't stumbling.
"Who here has ever been kicked in the..." He paused, looking for the perfect word. "The Merricks?"
The classroom exploded. Even Miss Jed covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
A few students raised their hands, including Daniel Sterling, who looked like he was remembering something painful.
Miss Jed was watching Mark with obvious approval, enjoying his composure.
"I think we can agree," Mark continued once the laughter settled, "that a woman's body was literally designed by biology to give birth. That's its function. Evolution spent millions of years preparing female bodies for that specific task." He paused. "But my balls? They were definitely not made to be kicked."
More laughter. Students were leaning forward now, actually engaged.
"Women can give birth to two kids and then, a few years later, decide they want another one," Mark said, his voice carrying confidence Hugo had earned from boardroom presentations. "They go through it again willingly. But I swear to God—" he made eye contact with Miss Jed "—no man who's ever been kicked in the nuts would volunteer to go through that experience again. Not for any reason."
The class was eating it up. Even the girls were nodding, conceding the point.
"The truth is—and this isn't because I'm male—there's nothing as painful as being kicked in the nuts. Because pain isn't just about damage to the body. It's about the violation of expectations. Your body wasn't prepared. Wasn't designed for it. That's what makes it unbearable."
He sat down to genuine applause. Real respect, not mocking. Sherry was looking at him like she was seeing him for the first time.
Before Miss Jed could respond, Henry stood up, surprising everyone.
"Miss Jed, I have to give it to Mark," Henry said, and there was something complicated in his voice. Wonder mixed with something that might have been pain. "He's absolutely right. If a woman is giving birth, other women are supportive. Happy, even. It's celebrated. But if a guy gets kicked in the nuts?" He looked around the room. "Every other man in the vicinity feels that pain in his stomach—"
"Like literally," Miss Jed finished his sentence, grinning. "You really like that word."
The class was on fire now, everyone talking at once, boys and girls arguing their positions with renewed energy.
Miss Jed let it run for a moment, then clapped her hands. "Alright, alright. Excellent arguments from both sides. But here's the real lesson—"
Mark tuned her out slightly, aware of Sherry beside him, still laughing, leaning closer than she needed to. Aware of Henry in the back, who'd stood up to support him despite everything that had broken between them. Aware of Alex watching with those calculating eyes.
But mostly, Mark's mind was on tonight. On the Viw Auction. On the Bloodglass. On two million dollars and the connections that would come with it.
[COUNTDOWN: 10:47:33]
The countdown kept ticking in the corner of his vision, a constant reminder that this classroom, these people, this moment—none of it really mattered compared to what was coming tonight.
"Mr. Lidorf," Miss Jed's voice cut through his thoughts. "You still with us?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Because I want you to remember something." She leaned against her desk, serious now despite the levity of the topic. "Pain is subjective. What destroys one person might be tolerable to another. But the ability to articulate your perspective, to defend your position with logic and humor? That's power. That's how you change minds."
Mark nodded, but inside he was thinking about a different kind of power. The kind that came with money. With resources. With the ability to make people listen not because you were right, but because you could afford to make them.
The bell rang. Students gathered their things, still debating, still energized.
Ten hours until the auction. Until he proved he belonged in rooms full of millionaires.
Until he became someone who couldn't be ignored.