A DAY IN BARRACK: THE SON WHO BURNED THE THRONE
CHAPTER SEVEN — WHEN FRIENDS VANISH
Lagos never sleeps, but sometimes it pauses just long enough to watch a child fall.
Damilare Adekunle woke that morning to silence. No adrenaline, no excitement, no laughter echoing from last night. Only his phone, buzzing relentlessly with notifications that he no longer dared to check. Peer influence, the very force that had hyped him, cheered him, and made him feel untouchable, had disappeared.
Seyi, Musty, Deji — all gone. No calls, no texts, no frantic advice. Just emptiness.
Influence had a lifespan. He had learned it the hard way.
The Cabinet Boys' Abandonment
By 9 a.m., it became painfully clear: his friends' loyalty was conditional, transactional, fleeting. He tried calling Seyi — voicemail. Musty? No answer. Deji? Blocked.
"Why dem no dey answer?" he muttered aloud, voice cracking slightly.
The same boys who had cheered him, recorded his arrogance, made him feel immortal — all had vanished. Peer influence, he realized, had limits when reality arrived.
It wasn't just disappointment. It was the realization that fun, hype, and thrill only mattered when the cameras were off and the world didn't care. Now, the world cared. And the friends had disappeared.
Public Scrutiny Hits Hard
By mid-morning, Lagos had fully awakened to the viral chaos. Social media, blogs, TV stations, and street gossip dissected the incident like scientists over a deadly virus. Headlines screamed judgment:
"Iron Man's Son: A Lesson in Privilege?"
"Barrack Boy Exposed: Lagos Witnesses Untouchable Behavior."
"When Discipline Fails: Adekunle Junior Faces Public Scorn."
Even the streets joined the chorus. Market vendors whispered. Bus conductors laughed behind raised hands. Drivers muttered under their breath. The ordinary people, who had once bowed to the Adekunle name, now judged freely, loudly, and without fear.
Every glance outside the mansion, every reflection in the polished floors, reminded Damilare that peer influence and wealth were not enough. The world had arrived, and it came armed with judgment.
Father's Silent Storm
Chief Solomon Adekunle, the Iron Man, had long believed in discipline and control. His household ran like a barrack — rules, hierarchy, and precision. But even he knew that controlling a name outside and controlling a reckless child inside were two separate battles.
By late morning, he summoned Damilare to his study. No shouting. No display of anger. Just the calm, lethal precision of authority.
"Sit," he said.
Damilare obeyed. Even at fifteen, he felt the decades of his father's reputation pressing down on him. Chief Solomon's eyes didn't flash with anger. They held the weight of disappointment and expectation, a pressure heavier than public scrutiny itself.
"Yesterday, the world saw recklessness," his father began quietly. "Today, the world judges us. And tomorrow, you will face consequences that friends, influence, and privilege cannot shield you from."
Damilare swallowed. Peer influence, which had made him untouchable last night, now crumbled in the face of reality.
The Streets vs The Mansion
By afternoon, Lagos became a classroom, teaching Damilare lessons that the mansion walls never could. Drivers honked sarcastically. Market vendors whispered his name with smirks. Even street boys, who never cared about politics, knew his face and mocked it freely.
Even the mansion staff whispered behind closed doors. They didn't disrespect him openly, but everyone knew the boy had lost his invincibility.
He stood on the balcony, looking down at the city. Peer influence had made him reckless; friends had made him bold. But the city had exposed the limits of all that.
"So na so e be?" he whispered to himself, voice shaking.
Yes. This was reality.
Peer Influence Collapses
By evening, Damilare attempted one last desperate call to Seyi. Voicemail. Musty? No answer. Deji? Blocked.
The lesson was brutal: influence is temporary, friends are transactional, and power alone cannot protect recklessness.
"Dem no go dey for me when matter serious," he muttered.
He finally understood that the thrill of last night — the music, the drinks, the laughter — had been a mirage. Peer influence hyped him, but now, it abandoned him at the first sight of consequences.
Father's Hard Lesson
Chief Solomon's private strategy extended beyond public damage control. In private, he addressed the hardest part: teaching Damilare that power, name, and influence cannot replace responsibility.
"Influence can make you feel brave," he said softly. "Friends can make you feel untouchable. But the world… the city, the people, your enemies — they will judge you. And sometimes, your friends will vanish before the lesson even begins."
Damilare nodded slowly. Words of humility began to penetrate, sharp and unyielding. Peer influence had created arrogance; consequence was now planting discipline.
Nightfall Reflection
By midnight, the mansion was quiet. Damilare sat in his room, phone off, staring at the city lights flickering below. Lagos had judged. Friends had abandoned him. Privilege had revealed its fragility.
He reflected on last night, the Cabinet Boys, the viral video. The thrill and laughter were gone, replaced by shame, fear, and awareness.
Peer influence, he realized bitterly, cannot substitute for accountability, for respect, for discipline. The moment of fun, of arrogance, was over. Reality had arrived, and it was merciless.
Iron Man's Closing Lesson
Late into the night, Chief Solomon entered Damilare's room. No anger. No shouting. Only the calm, precise authority of a man who had conquered battles the boy couldn't imagine.
"Today, you learned what your friends, your name, and your influence cannot teach. Loyalty is tested. Privilege is fragile. The streets do not forgive recklessness. And the world… the world only sees actions."
Damilare nodded. Humility, reluctant and raw, seeped into his mind.
"Tomorrow," his father continued, "you will face Lagos again, your peers again, and even your own reflection. Remember: influence fades, friends disappear, and judgment is absolute. But discipline and accountability endure."
Damilare understood. Finally. Peer influence had limits. Reality did not.
The Day Ends
The mansion was quiet. The city outside hummed, unaware. Social media continued its relentless cycle. Friends were silent. Peer influence had collapsed. Public scrutiny had reached a fever pitch.
Damilare lay awake, absorbing a lesson sharper than any slap or shout. He had learned, painfully, that friendship, fame, and privilege cannot replace responsibility.
Tomorrow would come. Lagos would still watch. But tonight, the boy had finally begun to face the truth of his actions.