"I just want to experience campus life. I like STEM fields because I can understand them easily."
Then came the kicker:
"My plan is to finish my undergraduate degree within a year and get my Ph.D. within two years."
The room fell silent for half a beat.
Amick blinked.
And then laughed—good-natured, but tinged with the kind of amusement reserved for overconfident youth.
"Oh-ho! Not shy at all, I see."
His voice carried the kind of indulgent warmth adults used when humoring kids' fantasies.
But Lemu wasn't joking.
Amick, assuming Lemu was just enthusiastic, quickly smoothed things over.
"Well then! I look forward to seeing you on campus."
"But we'll need to set up an entrance exam. I'll arrange for two professors to monitor and grade the test."
Stark checked his watch.
"Plenty of time. If you're free, we can head over now."
Amick beamed.
"Absolutely! I'll be waiting."
After ending the call, Stark turned to Lemu, lips quirking into a crooked smile.
"Looks like the old man doesn't fully believe in your genius."
His eyes gleamed mischievously.
"Don't hold back when we get there. Smack them with your brilliance. No need to spare my reputation."
Lemu shook his head, a faint smile playing at his lips.
With harmony comes prosperity. No need to stir up trouble.
Lauren Montbatten was a tenured professor at Caltech Los Angeles.
Known for her strict demeanor and unyielding standards, she had earned the nickname "Witch Montbatten" among students.
Years of bitter experiences had left her with a particular hatred for those who tried to take shortcuts—especially "recommendations" through connections.
So when the ever-gullible Vice President Amick dragged her into proctoring an entrance exam for a 14-year-old boy—one who allegedly had no formal education—Montbatten's skepticism hit the roof.
Nepotism. That was the only explanation.
While she couldn't stop Amick from letting the kid enroll, she could still ensure the exam itself became a nightmare.
With that in mind, Montbatten prepared two test papers.
The first was a standard SAT-level exam.
The second?
A hellish compilation of advanced problems, deliberately laced with obscure concepts and graduate-level material.
Her plan was simple—start with the impossible test and watch the kid crumble. Then, at the last moment, she'd "accidentally" switch to the easier version—just to let him save face.
Meanwhile, at Stark's Mansion…
Despite loudly proclaiming, "We'll go together!" Stark ditched the trip entirely, retreating back to his basement workshop.
Instead, he sent Happy Hogan—his chauffeur and part-time bodyguard—to escort Lemu.
But Pepper Potts, ever the responsible one, decided to tag along, unwilling to leave Lemu in Happy's dubious care.
The drive was short, and before long, the trio arrived at Caltech Los Angeles.
The lush greenery and classical architecture gave the campus an unmistakable academic air.
Pepper led Lemu straight to the designated classroom, where Amick and Montbatten were already waiting.
Amick had traded his usual white lab coat for a black blazer, looking far more authoritative than before.
Montbatten, however, was just as sharp and intimidating as her reputation suggested—complete with harsh frown lines that only deepened when her disapproving gaze fell on Lemu.
Once introductions were done, the exam began.
Lemu took his seat under Montbatten's eagle-eyed glare and flipped through the test paper.
To his surprise, the questions weren't particularly hard—basic human-level concepts.
Great Sage practically laughed in his head, feeding him answers faster than he could write.
His pen danced across the page, flawless strokes forming neat rows of answers.
From start to finish, he never even paused to think.
Seated nearby, Amick began to worry.
Was this confidence… or cluelessness?
No one finished tests this fast without skipping half the questions.
Montbatten, meanwhile, wore a cold smirk.
She knew how brutal the hidden questions were. The kid had probably hit a wall already but was too proud to stop and think.
Typical.
An hour flew by.
The exam was designed to take three hours, but Lemu set his pen down with one second to spare—precisely at 59 minutes and 59 seconds.
Stretching lazily, his long, blue hair shimmered under the sunlight filtering through the windows, giving him an almost ethereal glow.
Amick accepted the papers first, sliding on his reading glasses as Montbatten hovered behind him.
But as the two began scanning the answers, their expressions froze.
It wasn't just perfect.
It was art.
Every equation and formula was written in impeccable script, like calligraphy.
Even multiple-choice questions had additional notes in the margins—references to cutting-edge research, advanced technologies, and future developments.
Instead of simply answering the questions, Lemu had practically expanded each topic into a mini dissertation.
By the time they finished reviewing the first few pages, Amick's jaw had dropped—and Montbatten's smirk had vanished.
"Th-this can't be right…"
Montbatten's hand trembled as she flipped through the pages again, desperate to find a mistake.
Nothing.
A perfect score.
Only because perfect was the highest score allowed.
Even Amick, had he taken the test himself, wouldn't have matched Lemu's speed.
This wasn't just genius.
It was inhuman.
Montbatten, for once, had nothing to say.
Even she had to admit—Tony Stark's recommendation wasn't wrong.
Annoying, arrogant, and insufferable as Stark could be, he'd nailed it this time.
The blue-haired prodigy sitting in front of her was the real deal.
Lemu leaned back in his chair, idly twirling a ballpoint pen between his fingers.
With nothing better to do, he used the pen as a makeshift hairpin, tying his long blue hair into a loose bun.
Across the room, Pepper Potts shifted anxiously in her seat.
She trusted Stark's assessment of Lemu's abilities—he had insisted Lemu's knowledge was Ph.D. level—but watching an exam unfold was an entirely different matter.
Professor Amick approached with his trademark gentle smile.
"Congratulations," he said, tone warm and encouraging.
"You've been conditionally admitted and are now officially a part of Caltech Los Angeles. I'll forward your application for processing."
Originally, Amick had planned three additional tests and a 30-minute interview to evaluate Lemu's knowledge.
But after grading that perfect exam, all those plans went straight out the window.
Amick suddenly straightened, his tone shifting to something more formal.
"I remember you mentioned wanting to complete your Ph.D. within two years."
He paused and looked Lemu straight in the eye.