Instructor Dave keeps rejecting Charles's papers and keeps asking him to redo them. After the fourth time his papers were rejected, Instructor Dave became impatient.
"It's all because of his luck. Maybe what it takes to be a good detective is being the right person at the right time," Instructor Dave said, smashing the papers in Charles's face. His eyes glared angrily. "Baxter, you really have no clue, do you?"
"Sir, I'm trying my best, sir!" Charles remained firm.
"Go back to your dorm now and wait for further instructions," Instructor Dave commanded. Charles tapped his boots, gave a salute, and then left.
Charles was feeling really disappointed right now. Not only was his pride crushed because he had been defeated by someone he thought of as an imbecile, but he also had to write an essay about why he failed and why this imbecile succeeded. It felt like dragging all his pride through the mud and running over it.
Out on the field, Jacques was playing basketball. He really shone like a leader among his peers. Like a bull, he breached through the opponent's defense and confidently slammed the ball into the basket. Another score, and his friends respected him.
Why? Why was the world accepting brainless people like him? It must be because he was handsome. That was why he had all the luck in the world.
***
That weekend, the dormitory garden had been transformed—loud music and the chatter of excited voices mixed with boys challenging each other, filling the air. Fruit cocktails sat on the table, along with other snacks. Someone was throwing a party because most of the instructors were gone, and the only one left was Instructor Raquel, a lazy and tired old man who did nothing but sleep.
Jacques, on the other hand, was already making himself at home. He was busy showing off his charm to the pretty girls. But knowing Jacques, he had a weird taste in women—he'd go for the ones who would slap him in the face when he tried to charm them, only to convince himself afterward that they secretly loved him. Classic Jacques.
"She's clearly uncomfortable. Fix your advances method, or I'll be obligated to report you for inappropriate conduct as outlined in the code of student behavior," Charles stated, arms crossed.
Jacques rubbed his cheek, watching the girl run away from him, then leaned against the pool gate without losing his confidence. "Nah, she's just shy. Just like you."
Charles responded by giving Jacques another slap on the cheek before turning around and walking away. As predicted, Jacques only chuckled and shrugged, saying, "He loves me."
Charles grabbed his cocktail glass and tried to make himself comfortable. They said he was here—Maurice Lahm. That cool senior who was also the son of a high-ranking officer. If he could get close to him, he might have an easier path into the police ranks after graduation.
However, what he saw was none other than Pierre Villard, the son of General Villard, one of the highest-ranking officers in the Intergalactic Police Academy. Charles would have loved to talk to him, but Pierre was such a dork and an imbecile. Charles already felt drained enough having to lower his intelligence every time he looked at Jacques in the dormitory, and now he didn't have the patience for another rugged, brainless disgrace of a human being like him.
But wait... what was he doing?
Pierre seemed to be in the middle of a transaction with someone. They secretly handed him several paper bills in exchange for something white and powdery wrapped in small plastic pouch.
Drugs?!
"He also offered me some. I didn't take it. He's been poisoning the other cadets for weeks. I reported him once, but the instructors seemed to ignore me," Jacques muttered near Charles's ear.
"You reported him?" Charles's blue eyes widened, his usual robotic tone slipping. "When?"
"A few days ago, just after he offered me those."
"Jacques, you're crazy! You'll only get us in trouble!"
"Ah, there you go!" Jacques grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "You broke your Astrobot speeches!"
He laughed frantically, but this was no joke to Charles. This idiot, this imbecile, this parasite in his room—he had brought everyone into trouble!
And he would say it once again the next day when they were sitting outside Instructor David's office. Charles rolled his eyes. "Jacques, you're crazy. Look at the trouble you've gotten us into."
"I was just reporting bad, toxic behavior!" Jacques answered cluelessly.
After Bruno left the interrogation room, Jacques hurried over to pat his chest. "Dude, you good?"
Bruno gave him a thumbs up but couldn't completely hide the nervousness on his face. "Got a little worried there, since my roommates were his clients."
Jacques patted his back. "Don't worry, man. As long as we're clear, justice will protect us."
"I hope you're right, man."
They exchanged their trademark handshake, and Jacques let Bruno go.
The interrogation went well. Jacques confidently gave all the information the police needed to proceed with the investigation and pointed them to the right suspect—Elias.
However, after the interrogation, they handed him an envelope filled with money. "Go buy something nice, and tell the judge at the trial this Tuesday that it was Bruno who sold it."
Jacques's ears turned red. He was about to return to the officer's room, but Charles pushed him away.
"What are you doing? Engaging with them is ill-advised. They possess significant authority and influence, with the capability to eliminate you without consequence."
"They framed my bro! They can't do this! It was fucking Elias!" A mix of anger and worry blended perfectly in Jacques's eyes because he knew now that Bruno might get expelled from the academy due to being framed.
Charles grabs Jacques' collar and presses him firmly against the wall. "Listen carefully, Jacques. The situation is irrevocable. Bruno's outcome is determined, and any further involvement on your part will yield no favorable results. I have no intention of jeopardizing my trajectory for some naive idealism. The prudent course of action is to prioritize strategic advancement—through disciplined study and calculated compliance—until you possess the authority necessary to implement systemic change. That is the rational approach to achieving justice."
Jacques always like that; doing everything his way, feeling so confident that he himself, stand alone against the world is enough. It is not enough. Power ranks matters.
Even so, on the day when trial are held, Jacques isn't there. But when Bruno left the dorm, Jacques handed him the money they gave him to frame Bruno. At least Bruno accept it.
Tonight, in the bunk, it's unusually quiet. It's always quiet between Jacques and Charles, but this time, it's suffocating.
Both of them agree—Bruno didn't deserve this. Yet, a grim reality settles between them: the boy who should be held responsible is still out there. All he received was a warning—a mere slap on the wrist. A reminder that if he did it again, they wouldn't be able to protect him next time.
Jacques must be feeling lonely.
Bruno had been his best friend—they spent time together in sports, in class. Now, everything had changed.
"Jacques," Charles calls.
The silence stretches. No jokes. No sarcasm. Just silence.
"Thank you for not getting in the way."
"Garbage," Jacques mutters, disappointment thick in his voice.
But Charles means it. He agrees with Jacques—this isn't fair.
But what power do they have?
They're still just cadets. Besides, why try so hard playing hero? Bad things will always happens no matter how hard we try to save innocent people.