chapter 2: Finally, I am able to take a shit
As they entered the gate, the school guard stepped forward and blocked the path for a second. "Orientation starts exactly at 6:00," he said firmly. "It's already 5:56. If you're late, you'll stay outside the gate. No exceptions."
Cain nodded quickly and drove inside the campus. The road stretched wide and clean, lined with tall trees and polished buildings. He searched for a parking lot, turning at every corner, hoping for an open space. But when he finally reached the designated area, his stomach sank.
Every slot was filled with cars—shiny, expensive cars.
Not a single motorcycle like his.
"Oh… shit," he muttered under his breath. "Already a bad sign. My time here will be hell."
He squeezed his motorcycle into the farthest corner, hoping no one would notice it. He pulled off his helmet and rushed toward the university gymnasium. He didn't even have time to use the restroom. His only goal was to reach the gym before the doors closed.
When he arrived, the line of first-year students was already forming. They all looked wealthy—branded shoes, designer bags, diamond-like earrings, gold-styled glasses. Their clothes were clean, ironed, They looked like they were made from high-quality silk.
Cain felt the difference immediately.
In his mind: "Should I drop out? I already know what will happen. Even if I'm stronger physically compared to this spoiled brats, they'll just crush me with their wealth and influence. They'll laugh at me for being older and still a first year…"
A professor walked past and stopped in front of him. "Get in line," the professor said with a visible look of annoyance, eyes scanning Cain from head to toe as if something about him shouldn't belong in this place.
Cain swallowed.
"Oh shit… even the professors have a bad impression. I'm already in trouble."
Then another thought slipped in—short, intrusive, unreasonable.
"Should I just bomb this place?"
He shut the thought away immediately.
Then the rich girl from earlier entered.
Her maid walked beside her, holding her bag. The girl stepped up to the stage without hesitation, her posture straight, chin slightly raised.
She picked up the microphone using a hand covered by elegant leather black gloves.
Her voice was clear, practiced, and dripping with superiority complex.
"My name is Eliza Sefinna Denise," she said. "Eighteen years old. Member of a royal bloodline in Russia."
The gym fell silent.
"Be grateful you are allowed to see me up close," she continued. "I will make this simple for all of you. Peasants—do not attempt to take my spotlight. Do not compare yourselves to me. Do not try to outrank me. You may try, but none of you will even reach my feet."
Her tone never shook. She wasn't joking.
She truly believed every word.
Cain exhaled slowly, staring at her.
In his mind:
"Yeah… this is going to be a very, very long year."
Then, almost deliberately, Eliza let the microphone slip from her hand. It hit the polished wooden floor with a soft but sharp thud. Almost instantly, the gym erupted. Cheers, laughter, and loud whispers filled the space. Girls leaned toward each other, giggling and whispering, while boys clapped and nudged one another, eyes fixed on the stage.
Cain's lips moved silently, almost in disbelief.
"These gooner simps are all idiots, he thought. They act like they're going to worship her. Just because she has money, born into a royal or noble family, it doesn't mean she's smart… or better than everyone in every aspect."
Despite his thoughts, Cain clapped along with the crowd. Not enthusiastically, but enough to avoid drawing attention. He knew better than to stand out.
"I can't afford more trouble, he reminded himself. I'm already in a terrible position. A poor twenty-year-old, stepping into a high-class university filled with rich, polished, and intelligent students. And all of this… all of this exists because I cheated on an online exam using AI."
A sharp pressure hit his stomach. He shifted in line, trying to remain calm, trying not to let anyone notice.
"Just faster end this already… I need to take a shit," he thought, grimacing as his hands tightened around the straps of his bag. Each cheer, each flattery around him felt louder, and irritating. His pulse quickened.
The gym felt impossibly large. The crowd pressed in on all sides. Every polished shoe, every designer bag, every glinting piece of jewelry reminded him of the gap between him and the others. The world here wasn't his, and he felt it in every nerve, every muscle. Just get through this line… then find a bathroom.
Cain forced himself to breathe slowly, though the urgency in his stomach refused to ease
The orientation finally ended at 7:30. Strict rules had kept everyone in line: no cigarettes, no alcohol, no cellphones or AI devices, no fighting, and no littering. The gym gradually emptied, students moving in small groups, chatting or scrolling on their phones once they were out of sight of the professors.
Cain didn't waste even a second and run. His stomach demanded attention, and he moved quickly toward the nearest bathroom.
"Excuse me, I'm in a hurry," he said, pushing gently past the students in front of him, keeping his voice calm. No one bothered him; everyone seemed absorbed in their own conversations.
He reached the bathroom and locked the door behind him. It was surprisingly clean—polished floors, fresh-smelling air, sinks shining under bright fluorescent lights. Compared to the bathrooms at his old school, this was a 10 times better.
What a clean bathroom, he thought, setting his bag on one of the hooks by the wall.
He sat down carefully, letting out a quiet sigh as he finally allowed himself to relieve the pressure.
"This might be worth it… all the future bullying, the judgment, everything," he thought. "Having a restroom this clean… ahhh~~~"
The sound of water running and the faint hum of the ventilation filled the room. Cain closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus on comfort rather than embarrassment.
Suddenly, the quiet was broken by voices from the next stall. Some boys had entered, and their conversation carried clearly over the tiles.
"You know what? That new dating app is amazing," one said, his tone excited. "I can talk to anyone near me, even in other countries. It's insane. I've been messaging so many girls."
The other asked, "What's it called?"
"**The Masked Dating App**" the first replied. "Every profile uses a mask instead of a face. You can customize it however you want. It's pretty cool actually."
Cain listened quietly, half amused, half distracted, as he finished and cleaned himself. The bathroom smelled faintly of soap and disinfectant, a stark contrast to the old grimy stalls he was used to.
He washed his hands, water warm, sinks spotless, and shook his head slightly. "This is… nicer than any restroom I've ever used. Maybe all the trouble here is going to be bearable."