"Alright. Rank one, Lucas Raymond," Professor Everett called out, her eyes trained on the attendance sheet.
"Here," the Golden Prince raised his hand, to which Everett marked him present.
"Rank two, Ranni Luikots."
"Here," Ranni raised her hand, calling out from the back with her posture held regally high.
"Rank three, Valeria Sarr."
"Here," Valeria replied in a nonchalant tone. Her crimson-red hair was wavy and voluminous; she leaned deep into her chair out of boredom.
'The main characters wear their personalities on their sleeves… at least that hasn't changed. Still, it's ridiculous.'
"Phew," Everett sighed in annoyance, her steely demeanor turning gruff and sour. "I'm not doing all that. I'm speeding this up."
'Even the characters are sick of the tropes…'
"Montour, four."
"Here," Ronald Montour replied, pushing his rectangular glasses up for absolutely no reason. He had a short brown middle part and blue eyes.
'Typical nerd type. Just a punching bag for William in the novel. At least, the original Mountour was. They seem similar enough…'
"Cristall, five."
"Here!" Zac Cristall's hand shot up with a smile threatening to burst. It was grabbed and forcefully put down by his sister—the real rank five.
"I'm here," Natalia Cristall replied, smacking her brother upside the head. She had short turquoise hair and a mischievous look to her.
'No one cares about the short blue-haired character, pick up the pace already.'
"Sillinger, six."
"Here."
"Mateychuk, seven."
"Here."
This repeated, of course, going through every single student in Class 1-A. In order.
'Please don't tell me we have to do this every single class. There isn't even a good reason to count ranks in the first place! I get that they wanna finger-wag and tell the lower ranks to do better, but that's what the watch rankings are for. Why do this crap in the classroom?'
There wasn't a single abnormality or notable anomaly for Mark to point out during the count between one and forty-nine.
Besides the dark blue-haired Zac Cristall—ranked at 49 and the brother to rank 5—who acted nearly identical to his sister. While in the novel the Cristall twins were synergistic, it appeared that these two were playfully annoyed at each other's presence, engaging in malicious tomfoolery against one another.
There was no abnormality. Not until the final 50th name, where everyone had expected to hear 'fifty' called.
"Abbott. One hundred."
"Here," Mark raised his hand.
While he had specifically chosen the back to avoid as many stares as possible, these rich kids couldn't give less of a shit about respecting others.
Especially toward Mark, who was at the lowest level of the aristocratic hierarchy. They instantly knew that this dramatic increase in ranking and 'robbery' of a 1-A spot from the real Rank 50 student couldn't have occurred as some form of nepotism.
Rankings weren't something you could pay for, at least not directly. When supervising rich kids, you couldn't possibly accept under-the-table payments that would inevitably occur—so long as you desired to have any influence or prestige as an institution.
The only explanation for this massive jump in ranking had to be Mark was special. Somehow.
And that did nothing to pacify their disdain for their predetermined perception of 'lesser,' created by an intensive social hierarchy. Not to mention his interactions with Ranni which had already slowly begun to put him in the collective consciousness.
Around half the class turned, switching between staring at him and staring at their friends.
With the roll call finished, murmurs broke throughout the lecture hall—many directed towards Mark. A few more even specifically went onto their watches to check the full rankings.
'Great. Obligatory rank discrimination. Fuck off. Superficial pricks…' Mark's eye twitched in response to their glares.
"Quiet," Professor Everett established order. "We have more stuff to cover…"
That 'stuff' was a bunch of useless meandering.
A very brief introduction of herself, an overview of the course, and specific events that would occur throughout the year, finally topped off with a syllabus.
But for the most part, Mark just tuned it out. It wasn't worth his time. He spent that saved time staring randomly throughout the lecture hall, drifting in his mind. He floated among many fleeting thoughts in his mind, ones that he couldn't articulate; an interesting phenomenon if one took the time to point it out.
That was when a new stimulus—other than Professor Everett—was introduced. It was Ranni.
"Hey," she leaned across the aisle and whispered. "What makes you special?"
…
Mark snapped out of his daze.
"That's a loaded question…" Mark replied.
"Just answer."
"I don't know. I couldn't tell—"
"Mr. Abbott," Professor Everett paused. "Stop talking. Only warning. That goes for everybody."
Mark internally rolled his eyes as Professor Everett returned to her school-mandated speech.
He turned his eyes towards Ranni, expressing his irritation. Mark could barely make out her suppressed, sly smirk.
'Great. The class already has me in their crosshairs, and now I've given them a real reason to shoot. Whatever.'
"Now with that all out of the way," Everett continued. "We can finally move on to today's work…"
A collective sagging of the shoulders commenced.
"But fortunately for you, I can't be bothered right now. Class is dismissed."
Their shoulders immediately perked back up. Mark couldn't believe it.
'The hell? I was confident that the world and events were unchanged, despite the characters. Weren't we supposed to go sparring and Art training? Didn't Everett want to evaluate her students herself?'
Mark felt he was right in his initial assessment. He knew what it was: the classic tried and true explanation.
'I messed with the plot. Guess the main plot was as fragile as novels made them out to be.'
His involvement with the investigation must have done something to Everett or spurred some grand butterfly effect.
'Food for thought: it could be William's absence from the story, not necessarily my addition.'
The only real way to confirm or deny that claim would be to hire an information broker to look into William von Westergard.
But the class being dismissed was for the better; Mark needed more time to figure out his issues.
Now that he actually took a good look at the rest of the class, everyone had left, eager to take the day off to the fullest.
Well, everyone besides Ranni—who currently exchanged words with Professor Everett up front.
Mark picked up his satchel of school supplies and began to make his way down the aisle and out of class.
"Mr. Abbott, over here please," Everett beckoned, though her undertones ensured no disobedience.
With an exaggerated pivot of his feet, Mark turned back around and walked over to the two overbearingly serious ladies.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I want you to tell me everything you know about the Alchemy Lab theft. And when I say everything, I mean absolutely everything."
…
Everett's voice was ethereal—her eyes became an enthralling abyss.
The longer he stared, his soul was drawn deeper. His cognitive ability slowly melted into sludge.
'Ha, absolutely not—'
Mark's body seized. He could feel his mouth create a backlog of words as it pried his lips open.
'Fuck, is this what Charisma feels like? No. No! I can't tell her everything… stop!'
Control slowly slipped away, his breath held tight. A storm of fear shoved him into a cold sweat—his forehead and clenched hands moistening.
Only his sheer will held the command back—a dam threatening to burst.
Droplets of words began to trickle out of the dam.
'Damn it all…'
"Where do I even begin? There was a lot I did on the day of the theft, but—"
Mark slipped into autopilot, his body spilling the contents of his entire day prior. His entire body slightly shook amidst the tension.
…
That was until a system prompt appeared.
┌─────═━┈┈━═─────┐
User Spilling World-Shattering Secrets Detected:
-Administering GOOJC
└─────═━┈┈━═─────┘
'Yes! Whatever that is. Help me!'
┌─────═━┈┈━═─────┐
► Sacrifice Unallocated Shards
► Sacrifice Skill Points
► Miscellaneous Sacrifices of Equivalent Value
└─────═━┈┈━═─────┘
'Yes! Sacrifice Unallocated Shards.'
┌─────═━┈┈━═─────┐
GOOJC Roll Administered:
Result: -5 Unallocated Shards
└─────═━┈┈━═─────┘
The tension in his body instantly disappeared. He no longer had to fight back against his lips.
"But," Mark continued, now fully in control. "I apologize. I will not be talking without the presence and consultation of my lawyer."
Everett raised a slight eyebrow, her eyes judging and discerning.
The tension in her stance melted.
"Hmm, alright," she shrugged. "Then all I can say is that you made a bad first impression. Do better next class."
"Yes, ma'am. I apologize. Have a good day."
With that, Mark quickly took his leave.
…
His back to the empty hallway wall, Mark slid down—now sitting on the cold marble floor.
'Does… does GOOJC stand for Get Out of Jail Card…?'
Mark chuckled to himself in the desolate hallway.