The University of Manchester campus was buzzing with students when Cass arrived.
Cars pulled into side streets, trainers slapped against pavement, and clusters of chatter filled the air.
Yet when Cassian stepped from the taxi, the world seemed to pause.
Heads turned. Conversations slowed. The Savile Row suit was a weapon here, as devastating as any blade. It cut him away from the sea of hoodies, jeans, and backpacks.
"Who's that?" someone whispered.
"He's a student?" another muttered, incredulous.
"No way. He looks like a bloody MP."
Cass walked with unhurried calm, steps measured, eyes fixed ahead. He didn't scan the crowd, didn't nod to the murmurs.
He allowed their whispers to spread unchecked because he knew silence was the most powerful statement.
Every inch of him radiated belonging.
Every breath carried weight.
[Aura of Refinement Active → Charisma increased. Respect gained passively in social spaces]
Cass's lips curved faintly.
'Good. Let the whispers grow. The more they talk, the more they separate me from the rest. I don't even need to prove anything—my presence does it for me.'
He entered the lecture hall and chose a seat in the front row, placing his notebook neatly in front of him.
The professor, a tall woman with sharp glasses, glanced at him and raised her brows.
A flicker of approval softened her expression before she addressed the class.
Students filed in behind him, and the murmurs picked up again. Eyes followed his back, his posture, the calm stillness with which he sat.
Some admired. Some envied. More than a few resented. But none ignored.
Trent Beaumont arrived late, loud laughter spilling from him as always. He strutted in, eyes scanning the room.
His smirk faltered when he spotted Cass sitting at the front in his tailored suit. For a moment, his face froze. Then he sneered, forcing his voice to carry.
"Well, well. Cass Vale is in a suit. Whose closet did you rob?"
A few chuckles escaped from Trent's group, but they lacked conviction. Whispers spread around them again, but this time they weren't laughing with Trent.
They were questioning him.
Why did Cass look so composed? Why did Trent sound so desperate?
Cass turned his head slowly, expression calm, smile faint. His voice was smooth, clear, but quiet enough to make the room lean closer.
"I had it made. Savile Row. Perhaps you'll be able to afford one… after another fifty years of your father's allowance."
Gasps rippled across the lecture hall. The weak laughter from Trent's friends turned into muffled snickers.
Even the professor pressed her lips together to hide a smile. Trent's face flushed red, his mouth working soundlessly.
Cass turned away without waiting for a reply, pen already in hand as if the boy were beneath his notice.
[Minor Social Victory Achieved → Reward: +£1,000. Reputation Buff in University Circle]
Cass's thoughts were cool, steady.
'Small cuts. Everyone leaves a scar. By the end, his reputation will bleed dry.'
The lecture began. Cass's pen moved in deliberate strokes, his gaze sharp, his memory flawless. Every word that left the professor's mouth burned into his mind.
'Last time, I could barely keep up, buried under notes I didn't understand. This time, I'll master everything. Knowledge, wealth, status. And I'll use all three to bury anyone who stands in my way.'
By the end of class, the professor's eyes lingered on Cass longer than the others, and the whispers hadn't died down. If anything, they'd grown louder.
As students shuffled out, a pair of girls approached, hesitant but curious.
"Hey… you're Cassian, right?" one asked, her cheeks flushed. "Do you always dress like this?"
Cass smiled politely, lowering his voice so it carried warmth instead of distance. "Not always. But a man should look the part if he means to succeed."
Her friend giggled nervously, and the boys nearby glanced at each other, uncertain.
Cass only adjusted his cuffs and walked past them, not slowing for their reaction.
[Minor Social Influence Registered → Reward: +£500. Popularity +3 in University Circle]
Cass's smile sharpened faintly.
'Even breathing earns rewards now. Let them whisper. Every word builds the legend I'm crafting.'