Liansa stepped through the doors of School #4, and the first thing that struck him was how modern everything looked. The spacious hallway greeted him with gleaming white marble floors. Large windows let in sunlight, filling the space with warmth. Even the walls, painted in light tones, were adorned with stylish abstract paintings.

"A school for thugs, they said," he muttered under his breath. "Did they hire a designer for this place?"

He slowed his pace, taking in the hall. At the center stood a massive reception desk, behind which sat an elderly woman with a cold gaze. Electronic boards hung on the walls, displaying class schedules. One of the screens showed a scrolling message: "Discipline is the path to success."

Liansa smirked. "Discipline? In a school where people fight on almost every corner? Yeah, right."

He could feel the eyes on him. He sensed it in every fiber of his body. Students, standing in small groups by their lockers or just passing by, threw him quick glances. But no one said a word.

"Like a pack of dogs," Liansa thought. "Until they figure out who I am, they're just watching."

He made his way to the locker room, already thinking through how he should act. Announcing himself too loudly would be stupid, but staying too quiet would make him seem weak. And that? Death. For now, he needed to study the locals, understand their weaknesses.

"As soon as I know everything, the fun begins," he thought, smirking to himself.

The locker room smelled of expensive air freshener. Instead of wooden benches, there were modern ones with soft upholstery. Even the lockers gleamed with newness. Liansa set down his bag and began changing shoes when he noticed three guys standing against the wall.

They were clearly here for a reason. The leader, tall with short blond hair, watched him with a barely noticeable smirk. Another, broad-chested with powerful shoulders, crossed his arms, as if showing off his muscles. The third was shorter but his eyes radiated danger.

"Hey, new guy," the blond called out, stepping forward. "First day, huh?"

Liansa looked up at him and lazily responded, "So you're the local tour guide?"

"Bold," the guy smirked. "But here, it's better to understand the rules right away."

"What rules?" Liansa stood up, straightening his shoulders. His voice remained calm, but his gaze turned cold. "I've got my own."

"Everyone has their own here. But if you want to last long, you'd better figure out who's in charge," said the burly one, his eyes narrowing in a threat.

Liansa gave him a careful look, as if assessing. Then he smirked.

"Thanks for the tip. When I find out who's in charge, I'll be sure to say hi."

The burly guy tensed, but the blond stopped him with a gesture.

"Alright, newbie. You'll figure it out. But remember: only the strong survive in this school."

Liansa said nothing. The guys turned and walked away, leaving him alone.

"It's started," Liansa thought, closing his locker. "They wanted to test me. But that was a weak attempt."

The first class went smoothly. Surprisingly smoothly. The teacher was strict but fair. No one was loud or disruptive. Everyone sat quietly, taking notes. Liansa kept an eye on his classmates, trying to figure out who the leaders were and who stuck to the shadows.

During the break, he decided to walk down the hall. Spacious halls, modern signs, surveillance cameras in the corners. Everything looked too... expensive.

In the center of the main hall, his attention was drawn to a large stand. It was made of black glass with golden letters that glistened under the lights. The inscription above read: "The Strongest in School #4."

The stand featured photos. Faces. Beneath each photo was a name and a date. Liansa paused for a moment, trying to understand what it was.

"What's missing? Titles? Medals?" he smirked to himself.

He glanced at the top row but quickly looked away. Not that it wasn't interesting—he just felt it wasn't the right time to focus on it.

"I'll figure it out later," he thought, continuing his walk down the hall.

By lunchtime, Liansa had already come to realize that the school was full of oddities. No one was loud, no one was running around. Everything looked perfect—until you started paying attention to the details. Conversations that paused for a second when he walked by. Glances exchanged.

"They're all waiting for something," he thought.

During the long break, he sat at one of the tables in the cafeteria. The food was good, and the atmosphere resembled a restaurant: glass walls, soft chairs, even the trays looked expensive. Liansa ate, carefully observing the people around him.

Some students glanced at him, others pretended not to notice. It all felt strangely familiar. Like he'd seen this before.

"They live in their own little world," he thought, finishing his meal. "A world where everyone's afraid to make the wrong move."

The last class ended, and Liansa left the room. The hallways were slowly emptying. He made his way to the exit, lost in thought.

"As soon as I figure everything out, the game begins," he decided. "I'll find out who's really strong, who's weak, and then I'll do whatever I want. This school may pretend to be proper, but I'm still me."

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped out into the courtyard. The sun was setting, painting the sky in golden-pink hues. Liansa glanced back at the school building once more.

"Well, let's see what you've got for me, School #4," he muttered, walking down the path.

To the right of the school, Liansa entered the school dormitory, and everything looked like a hotel—luxurious and flawless.

The room was huge. Two beds, each with neatly made white linens. Between the beds stood a nightstand with a couple of books and a small desk lamp. Opposite the beds were two desks with computers. Along the far wall was a small but fully equipped kitchen: a refrigerator, stove, microwave, and even a coffee machine. The bathroom was separate, with a modern shower and a sparkling white sink.

"Not bad," Liansa muttered, looking around. "Maybe even too good."

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a lighter flicking. He turned and saw a girl sitting by one of the beds. Her short green hair reminded him of grass at dawn, and the daring gaze of her bright green eyes seemed to warn that it was better not to joke around with her. She snuffed out her cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand and looked at Liansa intently.

"Who are you?" she asked calmly, but her voice sounded like she was already prepared for a confrontation.

"Aren't you always this polite?" he smirked, tossing his backpack onto the bed.

The girl squinted but didn't respond. She continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer. Liansa realized that it was better not to start off with smart remarks.

"Liansa. The new guy. And you?"

"Maraiana," she answered briefly, leaning over to the ashtray. "How did you end up in School #4?"

He sat on the edge of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees.

"It's a long story. But to make it short—used to be a troublemaker at my old school. Loved provoking everyone, but I did it smartly. Always knew when to stop, and always picked my targets carefully."

The girl nodded, as if his words confirmed her suspicions.

"So, a smart troublemaker? People like you don't last long here."

"Why?" Liansa smirked. "Isn't this school for people like me?"

Maraiana lit her lighter again, but this time not for a cigarette. She was just flicking the flame on and off, watching him.

"For people like you, it'll be fun. Very fun. But you'll have to wait a bit."

"Wait for what?" He furrowed his brows.

"For everything to start," she said calmly, staring straight into his eyes.