The classroom was still tense from what Code 11 had just said.
The silence was heavy. Not even the sound of breathing could escape.
Code stared at the glowing screen in front of them, his reflection caught in the blue light. His thoughts echoed inside him.
We're just slaves… to our masters… and to the Obedience Code.
The words felt like chains clamping onto his chest.
But before he could sink deeper into that thought, Code 11's cold voice cut through the silence.
"This rating," she said, her tone sharp like a blade, "may as well determine the type of treatment you will receive during your stay in this academy."
The girl beside Code frowned, whispering under her breath, Treatment…?
Code 11's piercing eyes scanned the room. "Your rating determines the quality of what you can buy at the canteen, the mall, and other academic resources."
Caden's lips curled into a grin. He nudged Torin with his elbow. "Do you hear that, Torin? We can buy things for free!"
But Torin adjusted his shirt collar, shaking his head. "I get that… but if our ratings are low, the quality will be trash. I'd rather take quality over quantity."
Their voices were cut off as Code 11's voice cracked like thunder.
"Who said anything about buying free things?"
Both boys froze, their faces drained of color.
At the front, a girl raised her hand timidly. Her tone was sweet, almost melodic. "Code 11… can I please call you ma'am?" She smiled softly. "It feels disrespectful to just call you '11.'"
Code 11's gaze turned on her, cold and sharp. "I prefer to be called Code 11."
"But… as a teacher, that feels wrong," the girl pressed gently. "I think I'll call you ma'am."
Lily, sitting just behind her, panicked. "Ivy… I don't think you're allowed to do that. Not everyone is as sweet as you."
Ivy turned, her soft golden hair swaying, and flashed Lily a carefree smile. "But we can't just call her '11,' can we?"
Lily's voice trembled. "What if it's against the rules? You saw what happened to that boy… Ben."
Ivy shook her head lightly, still smiling. "I don't think that's against the rules." She turned back to Code 11, her eyes glittering. "Isn't that right, ma'am?"
For a long moment, Code 11 just stared at her. The entire class held its breath. The air felt charged, like lightning about to strike.
Finally, Code 11's voice cut through the tension. "No. It's not against the rules."
Ivy's smile widened, warm and unshaken. "Then I shall call you ma'am."
Code watched her quietly, his thoughts heavy. How can she be so carefree in a place like this? Someone like her… is rare.
"Fine," Code 11 said flatly. "Now, Ivy… tell me what you wanted to say."
"Yes, ma'am." Ivy's voice carried that same sweetness. "You said we can't get things for free. So what do we use to buy? The school didn't allow us to bring any money."
Code 11's eyes narrowed, her voice slicing through the air. "That's why you will all work… as slaves."
The words stabbed through the silence. A chilling wave swept the classroom.
"Now," Code 11's tone deepened, "tell me. What happens when a worker, or a cleaner, does their job well?"
Ivy hesitated, then answered softly, "They… get paid their salaries."
"Correct." Code 11's lips curved into something between a smirk and a sneer. "The same will happen here. Your masters will not only assign you ratings… they will also pay you your salaries."
The class erupted into whispers. Fear. Confusion. Rumors flew like sparks in the air.
Code looked at code 11. So… we get paid by our masters for the work we do. Just like adults working their jobs. We're working for our money… but we're just students.
Code 11's sharp voice cut through the whispers. "You all have to work for your money. If you don't work, you don't get paid. And if you don't get paid… you starve."
A boy with glasses stood up suddenly, his chair screeching against the floor. His eyes burned behind the glass. "Ma'am—our masters! The ones we're supposed to work for—who are they exactly? Politicians? School authorities? We need to know!"
"Your masters," Code 11 said calmly, "are students."
The class erupted in chaos.
"What?!" the boy shouted. "Students?! You mean… like us?! How do you expect us to serve students like us? Doesn't this academy run on equality? Or… does equality not exist here at all?"
Everyone nodded, voices rising in agreement.
But Code 11 raised her hand, and with a single snap of her fingers, a pulse of blue energy spread across the classroom like a wave, silencing everyone.
"The only equals I see here," she said coldly, "are the Grents. Those above you are not your equals. They are your masters. They are superior."
The silence was suffocating.
Her gaze cut like a blade as she turned to Lily. "And if anyone still wants to test me, it wouldn't hurt to lower the headcount of the Grents class by one. Don't you think so… Lily?"
Lily trembled, her face pale. She didn't dare look up. "…Y-yes, ma'am."
The boy with glasses clenched his fists, trying to speak, but Ivy's soft voice cut through the tension.
"It's alright, Juro. Let it be." She smiled faintly, her calmness shining against the storm. "Talking and arguing won't change anything."
Juro exhaled sharply, pushing his glasses up. "…Fine." He sat back down.
Code 11's voice echoed again. "Concerning your masters, their names will be sent to your phones. And your uniforms are ready."
"Uniforms?" the class echoed in disbelief.
Code 11 clapped her hands once. The doors opened and several men entered, carrying a large black box. They dropped it at the center and left without a word.
"Take your uniforms," Code 11 ordered.
One by one, the students walked up to the box, each pulling out their new attire.
Gasps filled the room.
The boys held black butler uniforms with crisp white gloves. The girls held maid gowns, black with a white rope tied around the waist, and a delicate white cloth shaped like a flower for the hair.
They returned to their seats, faces twisted with disgust.
Code 11's voice was cruel. "These uniforms will be what you wear when serving your masters. After all, what workplace exists without its employees dressed in proper attire?"
Torin shot to his feet. "Uniforms?! What's wrong with our academy uniforms? We're already wearing them!"
The class murmured in agreement.
Code stared down at the uniform in his hands. He's right… but still… if we're getting paid and given ratings, then this really is like a job. We're making a living for ourselves… but we're just students.
The girl beside him clenched her uniform, thinking the same thing. Both their thoughts collided.
This is… a part-time job.
"Torin," Code 11 said, her voice sharp, "you cannot wear your academy uniform to work."
Torin snapped back. "Why not?! We're in the academy, and our masters are students like us. Why can't we wear our own uniforms?"
"Because this isn't an academic schedule," Code 11's tone hardened. "This is your job. A way for you to earn money and survive here. In other words… this is your part-time job."
Torin gripped his butler uniform tightly, his body trembling. "A-a… part-time job?!"
The room erupted in whispers.
Code 11 clapped once, and the sound echoed like a whip crack. Instantly, silence fell.
"You all seem to be in complete misunderstanding," she said coldly.
The tension wrapped around their throats like a noose.
"This part-time job doesn't apply only to you. It applies to those above you as well. They, too, are slaves… to their superiors."
The class gasped.
Juro stood again, his voice sharp. "That can't be right!"
All eyes turned to him.
A blonde-haired girl sneered. "What do you mean, four-eyes?"
Juro glared at her coldly. "My name isn't four-eyes, Meira. It's Juro."
"Whatever," she scoffed.
Ivy leaned toward him, her voice soft. "Juro… what do you mean?"
Juro adjusted his glasses, his eyes gleaming. "We all know there are four ranks. The Grents, the Servitors, the Aspirants, and the highest—the Perfects. That's the pyramid structure of this academy."
His voice grew sharper. "But if every level of the pyramid has to serve their superiors after class, the whole chain collapses! A Servitor can't supervise their Grent-slave if they themselves are being worked by an Aspirant at the same time. It creates a scheduling and authority conflict."
Caden raised his hand. "But can't they just… switch times?"
"No," Juro said firmly, eyes narrowing. "This is a part-time job. Part-time jobs run on strict hours. And each master has their own personality and preferences. It would be chaos."
Code 11's lips curled faintly. "It seems we've found our class's smartest one."
Juro smirked faintly, lowering himself into his chair. His voice was nearly a whisper. Now there's no way she can escape this. We won't be slaves.
Everyone turned to Code 11, waiting.
But her expression remained thesame.
"Well… it's true that if the pyramid worked that way, it would create a conflict." Her voice dropped lower, colder. "But there is no need to worry. Because we have already solved that problem… with something we call—"
Her eyes gleamed red for a moment.
"—the Pyramid Chain of Delegation."
Juro's eyes widened. His voice cracked as he repeated, "…The Pyramid Chain of Delegation?!"
Code 11's voice sliced through the silence, calm yet sharp, the kind of voice that could crush hope with a single word.
"You Grents," she began, her tone cold, "serve under Servitors as personal workers. Your job is simple. Do their chores. Run their errands. Be their hands."
Her words echoed like shackles locking in place. The students stiffened from pressure of her words.
"As for the Servitors…" Code 11's masked gaze swept over them. "They do not serve as full slaves. The Aspirants give the orders, and the Servitors ensure those orders are carried out—by using you. They are the chain between command and execution."
A low murmur broke out, whispers spreading like sparks.
"And the Aspirants," she continued, "serve the Perfects in the same way. They rarely dirty their hands. Instead, they command Servitors and Grents to bend, to move, to work. That… is the pyramid."
Torin slammed his fist on his desk. "So basically all the work falls on us!"
"Yes." Code 11's reply was immediate, merciless.
Caden leaned forward. "But that means they get paid for work they didn't even do!"
Her head tilted slightly, the mask gleaming under the classroom lights. "And you," she said sharply, "also get paid by your masters for doing the work, don't you?"
The students froze.
"Your payments," she went on, raising her hand. The blue screen flickered alive, showing strange glowing icons. "Are your ratings. Your masters vote for you through their phones. When your rating increases, it becomes your currency. At the mall, your phone will be scanned… and that number will decide your life here."
Juro's glasses gleamed as he bit his lip. "I… I can't believe the school already thought about that…"
Code 11 turned toward him suddenly, the pressure in the room tripling. Her voice was low but heavy enough to make the floor tremble. "What's the matter, Juro? Did you really think you could escape slavery by pointing out a flaw in the pyramid system?"
The entire class gasped. Juro froze, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. His voice shook. "H-How… how did you know?"
Her mask tilted closer, a faint killing intent seeping out like a blade pressed to his throat. "I believe," she said coldly, "I have no obligation to answer that."
Code's eyes widened. He thought to himself, So Juro's cover was blown… she already saw through him from the start.
Torin, trying to shift the mood, raised his hand. "Ma'am, then what do the Perfects even do? Do they just… give orders?"
The mask turned to him. "No. The Perfects are slaves as well."
The classroom erupted into confusion.
Caden leaned forward, disbelief on his face. "What?! They're slaves too?!"
"Yes." Code 11's hand rose again, and the wall behind her lit up, screens shifting into a pyramid that extended further upward.
"There are five floors in this academy. Four are occupied by you—the Grents, the Servitors, the Aspirants, and the Perfects. But above them…" Her voice dropped, chilling the room. "…are the Primals."