I don't know why I was summoned to her office, but I know it isn't for anything good.
Going to the office was a nightmare—not just because I always left with an overwhelming amount of assignments I had to complete flawlessly but also because of the toll it took on my exhausted body.
The school building had 10 floors, a typical number for a prestigious high school in the kingdom.
You'd say, "Take the elevator," but it was prohibited for me as a form of punishment because my grades were low. This wasn't something unique to me; it was a common practice.
It was part of the reward-and-punishment system for all students, not limited to just the elevator. It could extend to meals, activities, or similar privileges.
Her office was on the ninth floor, and I had to climb the stairs with my sick, worn-out body.
Every step was pain and torment, compounded by the mental anguish of being called.
I didn't reach her office until I was drenched in sweat, my chest tightening, screaming for oxygen. But I couldn't rest, not even for a moment.
If I was late, she would double my assignments, making it impossible to finish them before the end of the school day, creating a vicious cycle of assignments and punishment that only led to more assignments.
I didn't call the school hell for no reason.
Knock, knock.
Not even a second passed before the devil's voice came from inside the office.
"Come in."
I complied with her command, summoning what little courage I had left—though, honestly, I had none to begin with.
Contrary to my expectations, she wasn't seated at her desk, nor was the desk cluttered with the papers she was supposed to be grading.
What was going on?
She stood with her back to me, gazing out of the window. The scene was so different from what I was used to that I froze in place, unsure of what to do.
"Come closer."
Most people wouldn't notice the change in her tone, but not me. I knew her. From her voice, I could tell she was angry. But what have I done now?
That's what I was thinking. That was my first question. It never even crossed my mind that the mistake could belong to someone else, not me.
Why did everything have to be my fault?
There was nothing I could do except obey her command.
Seconds passed—seconds that felt like hours. I wanted to ask her, but fear of making things worse kept me silent.
"I heard that your mother has arranged for Null to help you with your lessons, is that true?"
Why did this make her angry?
"Y-Yes."
At first, I thought she was worried I might cheat by letting Null do my homework for me. So I tried to say something to ease her concerns.
"M-Madam, don't worry, I won't—"
Boom.
Ever since my mother granted her permission to punish me physically, it felt as if she had been released from chains.
At first, she was hesitant to do anything. But over time, she grew confident and crossed more boundaries.
It wasn't just hitting. She verbally abused me, and later, she dared to slap me—not just in her office but also in public spaces.
Her initial slaps had reasons behind them, but over time, I realized she was just taking out life's frustrations on me.
I had been slapped so many times that I no longer even raised a hand to my cheek. Not a second passed before I'd straighten my twisted neck and move on.
They say adaptability is one of the strongest traits that makes humans superior to other creatures. They didn't say it's also one of the strongest tools to enslave them.
As if slapping wasn't enough, she grabbed my ear and yanked me toward her. The sensation of your ear being practically torn off is unbearable.
"I don't want anything to affect his grades. Do you hear me?"
"Y-Yes, of course. Y-Yes."
She didn't let go until I repeatedly confirmed that none of her concerns would come to pass.
"You can leave now."
Those were some of the sweetest, most beautiful words I ever loved to hear.
I left without waiting a second.
Of course, this was all that mattered to her. Null had been invited to all the events organized by the Four Families and the royal family.
Let's be honest—Null's academic brilliance had nothing to do with her. She just got lucky to have a genius in her class. That alone was enough to make her name well-known, possibly earning her a position as one of the tutors for the children of important people. Naturally, she'd fear that his grades dropping could have a negative impact on her reputation.
And of course, that Scum Null knew all about this.
His agreement with my mother stated he'd only receive the money necessary for transportation to events he was invited to and the clothes, still need to make a good impression in face-to-face meetings, no matter how impressive his grades were.
All this in exchange for just helping me with things I struggled to understand.
That wasn't much, right? Even this simple arrangement was too much for his pride.
He ignored me outright, simply because of the rumors about his deal with my mother. He made a slight effort to put on a show in front of teachers and students.
I didn't mind being ignored. I didn't care about the money being thrown at him without any return. After all, the agreement was with my mother, not me.
What annoyed me more was that my grades weren't improving. They were getting worse. And who was to blame for that? Of course, me.
"How is he helping you, yet you're still failing? Honestly, the trash is where you belong. What's the point of having parents who do everything for you when all you do is waste resources?" The words of some side character who doesn't even have a name.
Does it end there? No.
The Scum wasn't satisfied with the money anymore. Of course, he didn't have the audacity to ask my mother for more. So who would he ask? Me, naturally.
"I want you to lend me some money. I'll pay you back with interest after graduation. Just keep this between us."
"No."
It was the first time in my life I said no. Unfortunately, it was also the last.
The devil pressured me from one side, and my mother from the other. Add to that the endless physical and psychological problems, his smug expression as he bragged, and the increasing financial demands.
It was the drop that made the cup spill.
Someone else might have reacted violently, but for me, saying no was monumental—an unparalleled achievement.
Of course, how could the top student accept being rejected by the bottom one?
After the preliminary exams were over, the devil summoned me to her office. I thought it would be the same as always.
By the same, I mean a slap across the face, accompanied by insults calling me useless, pathetic, and someone who'll amount to nothing in life. But as soon as I took a step in—
Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.
Six consecutive slaps in the same spot, resulting in redness and slight bleeding. She grabbed my hair and, with all her strength, pulled me closer, pressing my head against the desk. She leaned into my ear to make sure her words wouldn't be missed.
"Didn't I warn you? Didn't I warn you?"
She pressed harder on my head as she repeated her words over and over, as if speaking to a deaf person.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
I threw out my apology, even though I didn't even know what I had done. The only thing I was certain of was that I had done something—no doubt about it. Of course, it couldn't possibly be anyone else's fault but mine.
"His grade dropped—do you know by how much? A single point."
Yes, all of this was because his grade dropped by one point.
"It won't happen again."
All I could think about was calming her down, completely ignoring the fact that this had nothing to do with me.
"If it happens again…"
"It won't, it won't."
I left her office and headed to him.
"I told you I needed the money. My unstable mental state caused my grade to drop, but it's nothing you should worry about."
He was putting on an act, pretending I didn't know his plan. That Scum had deliberately lowered his grades just to put pressure on me.
He made me regret the one moment I had ever made a decision for myself.
I gave in and handed him the money.
My own money. I started coming up with all kinds of excuses to get money from my mother just to give it to him.
I got used to the slavery.
I got used to the psychological and physical pain.
I got used to everything.
I can't believe that the same Scum is sitting in front of me now.
It turned out that the owner of the body had two offices:
one in his private room—the fake room—and another on the ground floor.
I called it the ground office.
Of course, like the other, it had no distinctive features to reflect its owner's personality.
In front of the desk was a set of soft leather chairs. We sat across from each other, separated only by a small table.
Before we began talking, he carefully arranged his phone and papers in front of him. That Scum was always obsessed with order.
The door opened as I was staring at his filthy face.
Azaria approached smoothly, placing the tray of coffee cups on the table.
Without waiting, I grabbed one and lit a cigarette with my lighter. I would need to relax, or I'd lose my temper and attack him, smashing his head to unleash years of hatred.
Lucky for him, he's now the Deputy Chief of the Investigation office. Otherwise, he would have been the first soul I'd snuff out with my own hands.
Finally, after finishing his little arrangement ritual, he wore that expression of fake indifference.
I knew he was irritated by my cigarette smoke, so I puffed even more deliberately. "If you've got something to say, spit it out, you bastard."
But he wouldn't. That had always been his nature—no matter what bothered him, he would never show it.
"First, I'd like to thank you on behalf of the president for your previous cooperation, as well as your current assistance."
Previous cooperation? He was referring to the investigation where they suspected I was trying to destroy the kingdom's economy.
"Mr. Emiric, I'll start with a simple question: what's your relationship with the victims?"
"You could say we were business partners."
He picked up a specific paper from the table, pretending to read the information, as if I didn't know he had already memorized my details.
"Based on the investigation, they weren't partners. They worked for you. After all, once they borrowed money from you, they became indebted, which effectively made them your employees. Isn't that right?"
I answered him calmly after taking a sip of coffee.
"Worked for me? That's a bit harsh. They're just a group of people trying to prove they've changed and show society they can do better. Unfortunately, it seems society didn't trust them."
I closed my eyes and put on a pained expression, taking a deep breath at the same time. Honestly, I wouldn't say another word. I'd let the public decide if I deserved an award for my performance.
Of course, he wasn't moved, continuing to "read" those papers. I wouldn't be surprised if they were blank. We were both acting for the other's benefit.
"Who do you think had a motive to kill them?"
"I have no knowledge of their personal lives. I can't help you with that."
"You're saying you have no suspicions at all? None whatsoever?"
"I'm just a businessman. If I were as smart as you, I'd have your position instead of you. Suspicion and investigation are beyond me."
He hadn't changed one bit. He searched for a specific paper, and once he found it, he neatly reorganized the rest. Then he glanced at the retrieved paper, realized it wasn't the one he wanted, and returned it to its place, repeating the process over and over until he finally found what he was looking for.
I really wanted to punch him at that moment.
"How strange, Mr. Emiric. I won't lie to you—I was beginning to admire your intelligence for leaving no gaps in your records. But to overlook something so simple is a little disappointing."
His words sent a ripple of unease through me, though my expression remained impassive. Where had I made a mistake?
A certain thought crossed my mind. Could it be?
"Your words contradict your academic grades, Mr. Emiric."
Damn it. Just as I suspected. How could I have overlooked that? Of course, my grades would have been forged.
"I didn't know intelligence was measured by grades."
"Everything is measured by your academic performance, Mr. Emiric."
A moment of silence passed between us, which I used to take another sip of coffee.
"You haven't touched your coffee, Mr. Null."
I tried to distract him a little. I knew it was a futile attempt, and he'd noticed it, but it didn't matter.
War is just a series of battles, and battles are a collection of decisions. Each decision is a swing of a sword or the release of an arrow. You never know which one will secure your victory or bring about your defeat.
Damn, I'm spouting profound words. I should write a book.
"I don't eat or drink anything while working, but I appreciate your kind hospitality. Now, back to the subject, Mr. Emiric."
He returned the papers to their place and pulled out his phone while continuing to speak.
"According to the investigation, the last place the victims were seen was this mansion. Is there any error in what I've just said?"
"Send my regards to the person who gathered that information. So far, his inquiries are accurate. As for my answer, yes."
This was an interrogation, but it was wrapped in the guise of a friendly chat. I knew he wanted something he could use to corner me.
It was like a dance. Each of us was trying to set the rhythm. Whoever succeeded would win.
And let's be honest—he almost succeeded once because of my lack of knowledge about the body's owner. I needed to be more careful.
"There's something I'd like you to help me with. It's been bothering me."
Now we are starting. He'd had enough of waiting and was about to launch his attack.
He placed his phone in front of me, showing a picture of a girl with black hair and a slender figure.
"This girl was seen with them in the car. It seems she attended the meeting with you. But isn't it strange that we didn't find her body among the victims?"
From his expression, I could tell what he was thinking. But where was he going with this? It would be easy to answer the question, but what was he planning exactly?
Beep, beep.
The sound of the desk phone interrupted my thoughts. It was my office line.
"I'll answer this. It might be something work-related."
"Of course, take your time. I've set aside the entire day for you. I'm not in a hurry."
Damn you and your mother. Do you think you've cornered me? Do you think I'm afraid of you?
I ignored his provocation and picked up the phone.
"Sir, sorry for the interruption."
"No problem, Hank. What's the matter?"
I answered without taking my eyes off him, and he did the same.
"The car you gave me the number for…"
The car that officer rode in while I was in the arena.
I'd taken note of the number and given it to Hank, hoping to learn who owned it.
The problem was that he said it belonged to someone his source couldn't access information on.
"What about it?"
"It's outside right now, sir. It's one of the cars the Deputy Chief arrived in."
Damn it.
"I see."
I hung up, keeping the same expression, but inside, a volcano was erupting.
It was clear now—he wasn't planning to collect some information to use later. He intended to arrest me right here, right now.
In your dreams, you Scum .