The classroom fell into chaos. Voices clashed, accusations flew, and the sound of desks scraping filled the air.
And then—
"I forgot to mention something earlier."
The teacher's voice cut through the storm like a blade. Everyone froze, turning toward the front. She wore the same calm expression, but her lips curled into a smile that promised cruelty.
"Do you all remember," she said slowly, as if savoring each word, "when I told you each group must choose a sacrifice?"
Students nodded, confusion knitting their brows.
"Well…" she tilted her head, voice dropping, "…that sacrifice will not simply be symbolic. Whoever you choose… will be expelled from Crownspire Academy immediately."
The silence was crushing.
"And if you fail to select someone before the time runs out…" Her eyes gleamed like polished steel as she scanned the room. "…then the entire group will be expelled."
Gasps. Panic. Despair.
One boy slammed his fist against the desk. "That's insane! Expelled? You can't—"
"You can't do that! My family—" another stammered.
"Expelled means shame! Our families will—"
The teacher only smiled wider, her tone mocking as she walked toward the door. "This academy doesn't tolerate weakness. Survive… or leave."
The door shut behind her, and the lock clicked.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The clock on the wall resumed its merciless countdown.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, the faintest grin pulling at his lips.
It wasn't fear that filled him. It was amusement.
The room was a storm of tension.
The words the teacher had left behind still lingered in the air like poison:
"The sacrifice will be expelled. If you fail to choose before time runs out… all of you will be expelled."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The classroom clock mocked them with its steady rhythm, each second dragging them closer to ruin.
The boy from the steel magnate family ran his hands through his hair, eyes wide. "Expelled? If I go home like that, my family will disown me. You don't understand—the board, the shareholders, the press—it'll destroy us."
The girl, heir to the luxury hotel empire, clutched at her necklace so tightly her knuckles went white. "Crownspire isn't just a school… it's status. If word gets out that I failed here… it'll stain my family's name forever. We'll be humiliated."
The quiet one, the pharmaceutical heir, muttered under his breath, almost to himself, "There must be a logical way… a rational equation… but…" His eyes darted to the clock, then to the others. Sweat collected at his temples. "There isn't enough time."
And sitting among them, calm as a lion among lambs, was Adrian.
He didn't look afraid. He didn't look panicked. In fact, his lips curled into a smile — wide, ecstatic, almost mocking.
To him, this wasn't a test.
This was theater.
And everyone else in this room was his cast.
"You're all panicking," Adrian said at last, his tone cutting through their bickering. "You're thinking of the word expelled like it's already carved into your backs."
Three pairs of eyes shot toward him.
He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg casually over the other, hands folded loosely in his lap. His posture screamed ease, dominance.
"But that's exactly the point, isn't it? Crownspire isn't testing how smart we are. It's testing how easily we bend. Panic leads to weakness. Weakness leads to…" he paused, savoring the moment, "…sacrifice."
The hotel girl snapped, "And what are you suggesting? That we just… wait?!"
Adrian's grin widened, sharp and deliberate. "No. I'm suggesting we choose carefully."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice just enough to force them to lean in. "Think about it. Expulsion doesn't end with one person being kicked out. It brands their family. The papers will say, 'So-and-so's child was too weak to last a week at Crownspire.' Businesses lose face. Investments pull out. A generation of shame."
The steel boy's face twisted. "Don't remind me."
Adrian shrugged. "But here's the thing… the academy doesn't care who gets expelled. They care about how the group decides."
He let the words hang.
"So… the smart play isn't choosing randomly. It's choosing the least costly option."
The pharma heir frowned. "Least costly? What do you mean by that?"
Adrian smirked. "Which of us matters less?"
The girl gasped. "That's cruel!"
"Cruel?" Adrian tilted his head, feigning innocence. "No, it's survival. The academy already framed it that way. We're just… following their rules."
The steel boy clenched his jaw. His eyes darted toward the pharma heir. The hotel girl noticed, and suddenly her eyes flicked in the same direction.
The pharma heir caught it, panic flashing across his face. "W-what? No… don't look at me like that—"
Adrian smiled inwardly. Good. The cracks are showing.
Adrian tapped his desk, drawing their attention back to him. "Listen, listen. None of you should act hastily. If we push the wrong person out, they'll make noise. They'll drag everyone down in revenge."
He let that sink in, then dropped the blade:
"But if one of us… volunteers… then the story shifts. That person becomes the noble one, the selfless soul who gave themselves up for the group. Families hate shame, yes, but they love loyalty. Spin it right, and sacrifice becomes honor."
The hotel girl blinked. The steel boy frowned. Even the pharma heir paused, thinking.
Adrian leaned back, eyes half-lidded, as though bored. "Of course… I'd never suggest who that person should be. That would be cruel."
He spread his hands, offering them like gifts. "So here are the choices. Either…" He ticked them off with his fingers.
"One, we refuse to decide, and all of us are expelled. Our families ruined together."
"Two, we gang up on someone, throw them out, and risk them dragging us through the mud."
"Or three… one of us steps forward, takes the fall, and leaves a hero."
He let the silence stretch. The ticking clock made every second heavier.
The pharma heir's lips trembled. The steel boy shifted uncomfortably. The hotel girl looked at her hands, already imagining the shame of her family's name in the papers.
And Adrian smiled.
Because he already knew which one would break first.