Chapter 129
Henry (2)
Reuel was the first to respond.
"You guys are from the older years, right? So... what exactly is the problem?"
His voice still held that usual upbeat charm—but beneath it, there was a subtle undertone. It wasn't obvious unless you were listening for it, but it was there. Like a dagger hidden beneath the surface.
One of the men stepped forward, clearly unimpressed. His eyes scanned Reuel with lazy contempt.
"Hey, you lil' pipsqueak," he said, voice rough and overly loud, "you better watch how you speak to your elders before I teach you some respect."
"If there is a problem," Henry said, his calm voice cut through the tension like a straight line through fog. "speak up."
His voice was calm—calmer than necessary, maybe—but his eyes were locked on the group of seven in front of them. His stare was so focused, it was like a sniper lining up a shot... It was without a single blink.
"Tsk," The man squinted, chewing on the edge of his pride. "Another one with attitude. You want a spanking too, kid?"
His voice oozed false bravado, but even he seemed unsure of who he was trying to convince.
IAM stepped in then. His voice was low, controlled.
"What do you need, sir?"
There was a pause.
The man studied IAM for a moment, his gaze scanning up and down as if trying to figure him out. His lips curled into an unpleasant, smug smile.
"Finally, someone with manners. You better keep your friends in check, or I might do something about it."
IAM didn't flinch. He nodded slightly, his tone polite but cautious.
"I understand… Is there anything you need... sir?"
"Yes! Our seats!" the man barked, slamming his tray down on the edge of the table. "Everyone knows this is our spot. So get up and scram!"
IAM's mouth parted slightly, not even blinking.
He looked over at the others—Henry, Reuel, and Yohan—and found each of them wearing nearly identical expressions.
"…"
"…"
"…"
The silence was so loud it was almost a language of its own. Their faces all wore the same expression: disbelief mixed with a dash of amusement and a sprinkle of pity.
The older man's face flushed.
"Why the hell are you just staring at each other like idiots?! Get the fuck up!"
"…Are you serious right now?" IAM asked, he leaned back slightly, his brow furrowing as he spoke slowly.
The man's lip curled. "What?"
Henry raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. "At your big age… this is what you're doing?"
Yohan followed up with mock sincerity, voice dry. "Are you a child in a man's body?"
The four of them broke into laughter.
Not quiet chuckles either.
Real, full-bodied, unrestrained laughter. The kind that shook shoulders and bent backs and made it hard to breathe.
"What the hell…" the man muttered, eyes twitching. "What's wrong with you freaks? Have you lost your minds?! Stop laughing! Hey, I said STOP LAUGHING!""
But they couldn't. And every time it seemed like they might settle down, one of them would glance at the man again—and that would set them off all over again.
Henry slapped the table, laughing. Reuel was wiping tears from his eyes. Even IAM couldn't stop the low, breathy laughs from escaping.
The man's patience snapped. He slammed the table with both hands, causing plates and cups to shake.
"YOU IDIOTS MUST BE FIRST-YEARS. DON'T YOU KNOW WHO YOU'RE MESSING WITH?!"
Reuel, still sniffling from laughter, managed to gasp out, "No, no please, sir… don't throw a tantrum!"
Henry joined in with a babyish tone, "We wouldn't want the widdle bwaby to cwy now, would we?"
A vein bulged visibly on the man's forehead. His whole face was going red. He looked like he was about to combust from sheer frustration.
IAM stood up at last, picking up his tray. A small chuckle escaped his lips.
"Don't worry. He said casually. If you want the table that badly… we were just about finished. No need to get so upset."
The rest of them followed suit, rising from their seats without protest and offering the table with exaggerated politeness. Like gentlemen giving up their seats for royalty.
And that's when IAM noticed the tray the man was holding.
He blinked once. He pointed.
"Is that… milk?" he said, loud and clear. "For the little baby?"
That was it.
Mean, echoing laughter—especially from Reuel, who almost dropped his tray in shock from how hard he was laughing.
It was so loud that half the cafeteria turned their heads.
The man clenched his fists. His entire body shook. Then, unable to contain himself any longer, he launched himself forward, eyes locked on IAM as if ready to throw a punch.
But he never made it.
Henry moved first, smooth as water. He stepped forward and blocked the man with his tray, not even dropping his stance.
A sharp hiss came from the older student as he was forced back.
Henry's voice changed then. The warmth was gone.
His tone dropped, cold and sharp like a blade.
"Do not try that again… unless you want me to defend myself. And trust me—you would deeply regret it."
The older student barked a laugh. "You?! A first-year thinks he can take me on? I've been in the Academy for four years!"
IAM tilted his head. "You've been here for four years… or are you four years old?"
That did it.
The man's expression twisted with rage. His mouth curled into a snarl and he lunged again, this time with even more speed—like he was really going to hurt someone.
His friends, notably, did nothing.
Henry tensed, already shifting into a stance.
But then—
The man stopped.
Like something had grabbed him mid-motion.
He grunted in shock, his body jerking awkwardly as if he'd just slammed into an invisible wall.
A figure stood behind him, holding him by the collar with a single hand.
Her grip was effortless. The man couldn't move forward an inch.
Then a voice—
"Four years, you say… and you still don't know the rules?" she said.
"You're not allowed to attack another student unless you've officially requested a duel. It's a very simple rule. Are you a child that you can't understand it?"
The students went silent. Even the cafeteria seemed to hold its breath.
The voice belonged to none other than Snow—the president of the Student Council.
She stood behind the man, one hand casually gripping the back of his collar like he weighed nothing at all.