༺ Noah's POV ༻
The room had quieted down after the small lecture I delivered to my peers.
Their faces were mixed with disdain, annoyance, and reluctant respect.
I relished the uncomfortable silence for a moment before stepping down from the podium, maintaining my usual air of arrogance.
It wasn't long before Draven approached me, his stride confident, his ever-present smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
He had that way about him—calculated, steady, yet irritatingly self-assured.
He stopped a few steps away and gave me a curt nod.
"Congratulations again, Noah," he said smoothly.
I didn't respond.
I didn't have to.
His smirk didn't falter. Instead, he crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly, as if sizing me up.
"Tell me, how did you manage to get the final question right this time?
Even after all the implications caused by the exam...
Surely, you couldn't have anticipated the shift in focus."
