***

For the rest of the time before lights out, Rikald remained in a depressed state, and nothing could distract him from his thoughts about the next day.

Arrek tried to engage him in conversation, but Rika was unresponsive and distant. He answered any questions from his roommate with short "yes," "no," or "I don't know" responses. And to Arrek's lengthy chatter, he just responded with non-committal grunts.

Arrek managed to get a normal response from Rika only once, when he asked about the bandages on his neck.

Rikald smiled sheepishly and loosened the bandage to show him a fragment of his tattoo.

"So that's what it is!" Arrek exclaimed in surprise. "I thought you had some sort of rash."

Rika laughed and was briefly distracted from his heavy thoughts.

But when lights out was announced in the dormitory, and he was left alone with his thoughts, his fears once again attacked his mind.

Rika feared the "seniors" because he hadn't seen a single one of them yet. His imagination eagerly fueled the flames of paranoia, painting grotesque images of third-years, all of whom looked like Bud. A horde of big, dim-witted, bald Buds flooded his anxious dreams, and he jolted in bed, pressing a hand to his stomach and trying to manage the wave of nausea.

Catching his breath, Rika glanced at Arrek, who was sleeping peacefully, not at all worried about the upcoming fight.

This calmed Rikald a bit, but he still took out Ethelstan's photo from the nightstand and, clutching it to his chest, slipped back under the blanket.

He felt a bit better. The tattered piece of paper worked like the most powerful talisman in the world, and Rika drifted off to sleep. But in the morning, he woke up in tears, feeling the choking spasms of grief painfully constricting his throat, making it impossible to breathe.

He had dreamed again about the crashed plane. Only this time, for a change, he dreamed that he was digging through the charred wreckage and finally found what he had been searching for. Ethelstan's body in his nightmare was completely untouched by burns, but still, the guy was dead.

After waking up, Rika couldn't pull himself together for a long time. He only calmed down after a cold shower.

***

School days at St. Isaac's Academy began with a morning workout that lasted an hour and a half.

Each year had its own gym and coach, who drove the students hard, not giving them a second of respite.

The first-year students had already gotten used to such a furious pace of physical exercise and managed to cope with the tasks somehow. But Rika lagged far behind even the skinniest guy in the first year. After jogging, floor crunches, bar crunches, warm-up with a basketball, long jumps, and somersaults on mats, he had no strength left for push-ups and pull-ups, and he disgracefully fell off the horizontal bar, lying there, almost crying from the pain in his right side and the desire to die. Meanwhile, all the other first-years were climbing ropes to the ceiling of the gym, jumping over the "horse," and swinging on rings, practicing gymnastics exercises.

Rika watched them, genuinely puzzled about how, after such a hellish workout, anyone could still want to have sex. For him, even the slightest movement caused excruciating pain. At the end of the workout, Arrek had to forcefully lift him to his feet and almost drag him to the shower.

After drying their hair and changing into uniforms, the guys headed for breakfast. All the way to the canteen, Rika kept moaning that he wouldn't be able to take a step tomorrow. He was so tired that he barely moved his feet. And the school day hadn't even really started yet. But Arrek "comforted" him by saying that after all the other classes, the workout would seem like a stroll in the Garden of Eden.

Rika entered the canteen, thinking only about not tripping over his own feet, and froze right at the entrance, casting a frightened glance at the previously empty table.

Describing the seniors, Arrek had not exaggerated a bit when he called them "wolves". Rika's gaze flitted nervously over the huge, muscular figures and intimidating faces, and he felt the acid spread in his stomach from anxiety, his legs refusing to move forward.

Now, in addition to the usual sounds, the room was filled with the rumble of deep, rough voices, and the trill of mobile phone signals pierced the air.

Noticing Rika's hesitation, Arrek grabbed his elbow and quickly dragged him to the table, seating him next to Irman and pushing a plate of breakfast towards him, which Rika ignored completely.

His gaze kept returning to the seniors, and he couldn't stop staring at them, already imagining how they would break his neck in response to any resistance.

He also couldn't help but notice one of the guys, whose extraordinary appearance literally glued Rika's eyes to him.

It was a handsome, tall senior with tanned skin and dark, very expressive eyes that he narrowed disdainfully, looking at others coldly and condescendingly. He was dressed in a uniform that fit him especially well, highlighting his strong, athletic torso and broad shoulders. He had straight black hair in slight disarray and very attractive predatory facial features. But what Rika liked most were his large hands with broad palms and his stern, assessing gaze. Of course, he wasn't looking at Ricky. Why would he? He was staring at the plate in front of him, which presumably contained something he didn't like.

"Who's that guy at the head of the seniors' table?" Rika asked Arrek, who was eating his food with a bored expression, casting a heavy glance over the seniors' backs.

Arrek followed the newbie's gaze and continued devouring his porridge.

"Legrim," he finally replied after swallowing the undercooked oatmeal. "He won't bother you, unlike the others."

It seemed to Arrek that his neighbor had paled even more at these words, so he hurried to reassure him:

"Relax for now. There won't be any trouble until free period. We'll see after that."

"And who among them is..." Rika started to ask, stumbling on the last word.

He wanted to know his enemy by sight, even if it turned out to be the ugliest brute of all.

Rika had already spotted one such individual with a twisted face and a jagged scar on his cheek. Something told him this hulking brute would definitely be among those eyeing his rear.

At that very moment, Arrek confirmed his fears, nodding toward the intimidating senior.

"Why am I not surprised?" Rika sighed heavily, realizing that Arrek wouldn't be able to handle such a scumbag.

"Because Stredford's face says it all," Arrek smirked. "Though whether it's Stredford or some other imbecile, there's not much difference. You'll still have to fight."

Arrek frowned as he watched Bailey, who, grinning arrogantly, made his way to the seniors' table and took a seat next to Stredford.

"Hurry up and finish your food so we can head to class," he urged Rika, who was clearly neglecting his "healthy" breakfast. "We shouldn't be late on the first day."

Rika nodded and ate a few spoonfuls of bland oatmeal before pushing the bowl away in disgust and standing up.

He felt someone's sticky gaze on him but tried not to show that it bothered him. Even so, as he stepped over the bench, he nearly fell, and Arrek had to grab his elbow to steady him.

"Umino, keep it together," Irman encouraged him.

"If anything, I'm still ready to defend your honor," Olsen winked at him. "But I expect a passionate thank-you from you."

"We'll manage without you," Arrek retorted, pulling Rika along. "Get a grip! You're like a red rag to a bull for them. Show any weakness, and they'll tear you to pieces."

"You know, your words aren't very reassuring," Rikald said, practically running out of the cafeteria. "I know guys like Stredford. There's no point negotiating with him in front of a crowd. Maybe we can catch him somewhere secluded and try to bribe him? Do his homework or something, fulfill some stupid request not related to sex. After all, he's not completely out of his mind to attack everyone indiscriminately."

It was a decent idea and might have worked, but Arrek had noticed Stredford's look before they left the canteen.

Bailey had done his job well. The third-year had bitten the bit, meaning there was no chance for negotiations.

But Arrek didn't want to upset Rika prematurely.

"We'll try," he promised, knowing they wouldn't even get a chance to compromise. "So don't lose heart. Everything will be fine."

Rikald nodded, a bit calmer now. He tried to push the senior out of his mind and focus on his classes.

The first class was mathematics, taught by an older, gaunt man with thick-lensed glasses. He introduced himself to Rika and immediately called him to the board to assess his knowledge.

While Rika worked through solving a few math problems, the teacher began the lecture by checking homework assignments. Students handed in their notebooks one by one, and the teacher quickly made notes and comments in them. Once all the notebooks were checked, the teacher finally turned his attention to the board.

Rika was just finishing writing a formula he had made up, and the teacher promptly scolded him.

"If you don't know how to solve the problem, it's better to admit it right away. My goal is to impart knowledge to you, not to correct deliberately made mistakes. Take your seat. After the lectures, I expect you in my office, Umino. I'll have a serious talk with you."

Rika muttered a rehearsed, "Yes, sir," and returned to his desk. The teacher nodded in satisfaction and began explaining the new topic to the students.

By the end of the lecture, Rika felt like he was getting sick. His brain hadn't absorbed a single word the teacher had said. The topic was so complicated that he lost track almost immediately and simply transcribed the teacher's notes from the board, hoping to figure out the formulations and solutions later.

After math came English, where Rika also stumbled, failing an elementary exercise according to the teacher. However, the new topic was easy for him, which boosted his confidence a bit.

After English, the first-year students got a few minutes to rest before heading to political information class.

Rika had never heard of such a class, but Arrek reassured him that it was nothing complicated.

The students' task was to share news from the world of politics, economics, and art with their classmates. But there was one condition: the news couldn't be repeated. So, the students had to agree in advance on who would talk about what in the lecture.

Since Rika was a newcomer, he wasn't asked to present. He was supposed to listen attentively to the reports of the other guys to know how to prepare for the next lecture.

The guys took turns coming to the board and briefly covering world events from the past week or even month.

Among other news, the story of the crashed airplane naturally came up.

One of the guys described the accident in such vivid detail that Rika no longer doubted it was the same plane Ethelstan had been on.

Everything matched. It was the first morning flight to Paris. The other flights were canceled due to severe weather conditions. And since Ethel, according to Michel, had already taken off, hoping for a miracle made no sense.

Rika clenched his fists and bit his cheek, but it didn't help him cope with the grief that clutched his heart with its big, clawed paw.

His eyes stung with unshed tears, and Rikald took a deep breath, urging himself to stay calm.

This shouldn't have happened. Not to Ethelstan. He was so kind, so beautiful... was it fair that he was gone, while people like Bud and that Stredford continued their vile existence?

Rika's lips trembled, and he buried his face in his hands, swallowing the sobs that rose in his throat.

Ethelstan came into his life during its most difficult period. He supported him, kindled a spark of hope in his dying heart. And then he disappeared. He simply exploded along with the plane, as if he had never existed, leaving behind only a bright memory and a short note.

"Umino, what's wrong with you?" the teacher's voice thundered through the classroom.

The presenter fell silent, turning to face his classmates, and like everyone else, stared at the newcomer with interest.

Rika didn't respond, just shook his head without taking his hands from his face, and the teacher's expression darkened.

"Was someone from your family on that plane?" he guessed, frowning his bushy eyebrows.

Rika nodded and quietly sobbed.

"You should have warned us about this beforehand," the teacher said coldly. "However, it's not your fault. Who is Umino's roommate?"

The man cast a heavy glance over the students and nodded when Arrek raised his hand.

"Joss, take Umino to the infirmary. Explain the reason for the visit to the doctor and support your friend," the teacher quickly instructed and, without further distraction, turned back to the presenter. "Continue, Fitzroy."

Arrek quickly gathered his things, slung Rika's bag over his shoulder, and, pulling the guy by the elbow, hurriedly led him out of the classroom, closing the door behind them.

Once they had walked a bit down the hall, he asked:

"Did someone you know seriously take that flight?"

Rika nodded again, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his jacket, but they kept welling up in the corners of his eyes despite his efforts.

Noticing that Rika couldn't calm down, Arrek pulled him towards a window and sat him on the windowsill.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Arrek asked in surprise and then added thoughtfully, "And Sadis didn't mention anything like this. Though he usually warns us if it involves family."

"He wasn't family," Rika admitted, longing for a sip of water and a strong dose of sedative. "He was... a friend. Sorry for dumping this on you, but I just can't believe it."

He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose, feeling utterly miserable.

"Death is always hard to accept, and losing someone close is even harder," Arrek said sympathetically.

He wasn't a master of consolation and didn't really know what to say in such situations, so he simply suggested:

"Let's go see the doctor, and we won't go back to the lecture. I don't think anyone will notice, and you'll have time to pull yourself together."

Rika didn't object. He got up from the windowsill and walked with Arrek to the infirmary.

The doctor examined the student and, assessing his condition as unsatisfactory, left him in the ward for a few hours, giving him a sedative.

Arrek stayed with him until the end of the lecture, and then went back to class.

Rikald, left alone with his grief, began to replay unpleasant thoughts in his mind again.

Ethelstan's death brought him unimaginable pain. The searing ring of sorrow around his heart flared up in his chest, causing him to shed bitter tears on the pillow over and over. He cried for about half an hour. Then the sedative finally took effect, and Rika fell asleep.

The doctor woke him at lunchtime. The attendant brought Rika's meal straight to the ward, and he reluctantly ate under the watchful eye of the medical professional.

Satisfied that the guy was feeling better, the doctor summoned the first-year mentor to the infirmary and left them alone.

"Are you all right, Umino?" the man asked, scrutinizing the guy's pale face. "Your mother didn't indicate in the form that you had suffered a personal tragedy."

"She couldn't have known," Rika replied, looking at the floor. "She wasn't acquainted with my friend. I'm sorry, sir. This will pass soon."

"'This' could lead to serious trouble," Sadis emphasized the first word. "If the anxiety doesn't subside, you must tell me immediately."

Rikald nodded. Then, catching himself, he said:

"Yes, sir."

The man seemed satisfied with his response and asked:

"Will you stay in the infirmary for the night or return to class?"

"To class," Rika answered without hesitation.

As much as he wanted to hide from the seniors for a while and sort out his feelings, he couldn't leave Arrek and Irman to handle problems for him.

"Then go. You have biology now. Joss is waiting for you in the hallway."

Rika thanked the mentor briefly and, fearing to look him in the eye, dashed out of the ward.

Arrek was indeed waiting for him by the door. After assessing Rika's condition as lousy, he led him to the biology classroom.

After the class ended, the first-year students headed to the geography room, where they were to do their homework under the supervision of their mentor.

Arrek explained that this kind of torture was reserved only for first-years; older students did their extracurricular assignments in the common room.

But honestly, Rikald didn't care where he had to grapple with the terribly difficult assignments.

He entered the classroom, took his seat, and bent low over his math notes, trying to grasp the new topic.

A few minutes later, Sadis entered the classroom. He greeted his class with an indifferent nod and concentrated on checking notebooks and essays. Throughout the entire time allotted for this session, he didn't look at the students even once. Yet no one dared to speak a word.

Rikald was deeply impressed by the man's influence over the students. He had seen strict teachers before, but never one whose mere presence could render students to keep silent. This collective fear instilled an unreasonable dread of the man in Rika as well. Like the others, he remained silent, quietly scribbling in his notebooks.

After the extracurricular session ended, the guys finally got a chance to relax a little.

There were still two hours before dinner, so Rika and Arrek went to the common room. There, they were joined by Irman, who seemed a bit on edge.

"Something's brewing," he warned quietly. "Maybe we should hint to Sadis to drop by in about ten minutes?"

"And what exactly would you say to him?" Arrek asked with a bitter smile, scanning the room carefully. "'Teacher, I have a bad feeling. Could you take a stroll past the common room this evening?'"

Stredford wasn't in sight yet, and Arrek sighed in relief, leading Ricky to a corner of the room where a table stood empty by the bookshelves.

Irman followed them closely, not missing a step.

"Must you be so sarcastic?" the class leader asked irritably, casting a doubtful glance at Rika.

The newcomer looked eerily pale, and it seemed he was barely breathing from the fear that had gripped him. Someone like that wouldn't get into a fight—or might just faint at the most crucial moment. But they needed a big fight, the bigger, the better. The more people involved, the more likely the teachers would rush in to stop the chaos, and even the headmaster wouldn't be able to turn a blind eye to the incident. But as it stands...

Irman shook his head and positioned his chair to keep an eye on the entrance to the common room.

Rika, who had been in a state of deep apathy all this time, looked at Arrek with surprise and asked a perfectly reasonable question:

"Hey, why don't we just go to Sadis and tell him everything? He did say we could come to him with any issue. Wouldn't that be a way to avoid unnecessary trouble?"

"Rika," Arrek sighed wearily, "do you want to end up in the infirmary for a week? Sadis will skin you alive for snitching. Sure, he'll step in, but you won't escape punishment. And afterward, the other students will grind you into dust themselves."

Rika turned to Irman and stared at him with horror in his eyes. But Irman just grimly nodded, confirming Arrek's words.

"Don't panic," the class leader said darkly, clenching his bandaged hand into a fist as he noticed Bailey entering the common room, followed by several seniors. "We'll fight them off."

Rika followed Irman's gaze and swallowed hard, feeling his insides tighten into a knot.

A group of eight, led by Stredford, was moving toward them.

All the students who happened to be in the seniors' way quickly stepped aside, not wanting to get into trouble. Within seconds, those nasty faces approached the table where the defiant freshmen were sitting, looming over them like trolls from a scary fairy tale.

Rika felt the hostile stares of the entire group fixed on him and lowered his eyes. Only now did he realize what kind of mess he had gotten himself into, and it was as if his mind short-circuited. He couldn't even move, feeling like a mouse in a snake pit. But luckily, his defenders still managed to keep their composure.

"Hey, Cody," Arrek was the first to greet, smiling carelessly. "How was your break?"

"Hey, Joss." Stredford nodded rather amicably, pulling out a chair and sitting down at their table.

Rika was still avoiding eye contact, focusing on his hands, clenched tightly together, not even daring to look at the brute. Which, in a way, wasn't the worst decision.

"A little birdie told me that some of the youngsters have gotten too bold. Any idea who that might be?"

"I can't imagine who would dare," Arrek responded sincerely, looking the senior straight in the eye. "And who's this birdie?" he threw a sidelong glance at Bailey, who was standing behind the group of third-years. "Did a giant goatsucker croak it out?"

A nervous chuckle rippled through the line of freshmen who were trying to stay away but couldn't help eavesdropping on their conversation.

Cody flashed a grin and glanced back at Bailey.

"Sharp as ever, Joss." He smirked and then fixed his gaze on Arrek again. "You know, there's something about you that's always made me respect you. And that's why you're still in one piece."

"I'm flattered, truly," Arrek responded earnestly to the statement. "It's nice to hear."

"But that could change." Cody was smiling, but there was a clear threat behind it. "You know it's not polite to talk back to your elders, right?"

Arrek met his gaze with an equally 'friendly' smile.

"I was just defending what's mine. And I'll keep defending it, no matter how your opinion of me changes."

Cody liked the answer, and he chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

"You know what? It won't change," he declared in a tone that made it sound like his words were the greatest favor Arrek could ever receive. "And because of that, I really don't want to hurt you. But here's the problem: if I let you off, every bug in this anthill will think they can start dictating their own terms. And that's bad. Authority has to be respected. You haven't forgotten the rules, right? Every newcomer, first and foremost, belongs to me. And if he can't stand up for himself, then he deserves nothing but humiliation. Understand?"

"Yes. I understand." Arrek nodded, and there was a cold edge in his voice. "But this newcomer is MINE. That's how it is. Sorry."

"And you're not planning on sharing, I take it?" Cody asked with a grin that, thanks to his scar, looked more like a feral snarl.

"Naturally." Arrek grinned back just as predatorily. "You understand, don't you?"

"I do. And I'm not even interested anymore. I don't need someone else's cast-offs."

The casual conversation that had sprung up between Arrek and Stredford sent an uncomfortable shiver down Rika's spine. He didn't like where the discussion was heading, but he couldn't bring himself to clench his fist and punch the smug face of the senior.

Usually, Rika had no trouble at least snapping back when someone tried to drag him into a fight. But today, all his bravado had deserted him, and he couldn't muster a single word. The only thing he managed was to lift his gaze to Cody.

Noticing that Rika was looking at him, Cody grinned even wider and grabbed his chin, tilting his face to get a better look.

"Not bad," the senior remarked, admiring the pretty, pale face of the freshman. "Worth fighting for, huh, Joss?"

"Undoubtedly," Arrek replied, glaring at the senior from under his brows, and not roughly but firmly pushed Cody's hand away from Rika's face. "But as you said, you're not interested," he reminded him.

Stredford laughed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm not. But my guys don't care whether this bitch has moaned under someone or not. They want to try. If you can protect him, no one will lay a finger on him without your permission. If you can't... Sorry, Joss, but then the whole pack will have their way with him."

"And what, I'm supposed to fight right here?" Arrek feigned surprise.

"Here and now, Joss. But I'll be rooting for you."

Cody winked and, standing up, moved behind the backs of his "guys".

"Do you think we can handle this?" Irman asked Arrek very quietly, eyeing the seven guys surrounding them. All of them were sturdy, well-built, with eyes gleaming with anticipation of easy prey and cocky smiles on their crooked faces.

"Arrek, let me try to talk to him," Rika suddenly spoke up, grabbing his neighbor by the sleeve. "Really, they wouldn't actually rape me. That's illegal."

Irman, hearing this, even laughed.

"You're so naive, Umino," he said, glaring challengingly at their opponents but still not making any moves.

"Are you just going to keep yapping?" one of the seniors asked, cracking his knuckles.

Arrek stretched his lips into a fake smile.

"Don't worry, darling, I'll have enough attention for you too," he said mockingly, his eyes flashing with malice as he took off his jacket and handed it to Rika.

Rika clung to the fine fabric as if it could save him, pressing Arrek's jacket to his chest.

"Irman, don't get involved just yet," the redhead asked as he got up from his chair.

"Just yet? So, you mean until you're down?" the class leader asked, flaring his nostrils in anger.

"No, not that long," Arrek laughed. "Once you see I'm running out of steam, jump in."

Herder nodded but said nothing, shifting in his chair to block the newbie in case anyone got too eager to lay their hands on him in the heat of the fight.

Arrek stepped away from the table, moved slightly to the side, and, after undoing a few top buttons of his shirt, habitually stretched his neck. His movements were quick and fluid, and in the next moment, he assumed a defensive stance, raising his clenched fists in front of him, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

"So, who's first, birdies?" he asked challengingly.

Bailey stepped forward.

"Oh, you want to defend your tarnished honor?" Arrek's smile widened. "Easy to be brave when you've got a whole crowd behind you, huh?"

"You'll regret that... Stop being a smart aleck," the lanky guy growled and swung at him.

But his fist sailed past Arrek as he smoothly dodged to the side, avoiding the clumsy and utterly ridiculous attempt by the sophomore to land a hit.

"Rule number one, Bailey: it's better to be smart than stupid," Arrek said mockingly.

As Bailey's own momentum carried him forward, Arrek grabbed his wrist, spun around, and, finding himself behind Bailey, twisted his arm back. The sophomore yelped in pain as his shoulder was wrenched, bending him forward. Without wasting a moment, Arrek twisted again, delivering two sharp, precise punches to his gut, finishing the little skirmish with a well-placed uppercut.

Bailey's head snapped back, and Rika saw the sophomore's eyes roll back as his heavy body crumpled to the floor at Arrek's feet.

"See? Being smart really is better," Joss said cheerfully, casting a glance full of excitement at his fallen opponent. "Although... you probably don't see anything now."

He stepped aside to avoid tripping over Bailey's useless body and once again took up a defensive position.

"Well? Who's next?" he asked with a challenge, beckoning his opponents with a finger. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

But no one was eager to form a line.

Seeing the freshman's agility, those eager to claim the newcomer for themselves simply rushed Arrek all at once.

Thanks to his constant training at the boxing club, Arrek skillfully dodged strong but clumsy attacks, blocked punches, and expertly countered every attempt to knock him off his feet.

The grin never left Arrek's face, and it seemed he was genuinely enjoying the chaos unfolding around him. Joss kept smiling even when someone's fist smashed into his lower jaw, splitting his lip and causing him to sway dangerously. But Arrek merely grunted, running his tongue over the cut and licking away the droplets of blood. Then he resumed his defensive stance and began to throw his nearest opponents around with even greater ferocity.

However, there were too many who wanted to take advantage of Rika and take down Arrek, more than one person could handle. After a few minutes of desperate defense, Arrek began to retreat, losing ground, and gradually buckling under the barrage of punches raining down on him.

"To hell with this!" Irman growled, and, tossing off his jacket, threw it to Rika.

Rika didn't even have time to say anything before the class leader had already charged into the fray, smashing the heads of two third-years together with such force that they collapsed unconscious onto the floor, slumping over each other.

Irman immediately lost interest in them and, with a powerful shove, flung aside a large guy who had raised a heavy book above Arrek's head, ready to strike him in the back of the head. Twisting skillfully, Irman positioned himself behind Joss, fending off several more rapid attacks.

But even together, they couldn't hold off these brutes. The guys understood this all too well, but they continued to fight back fiercely, as if their lives depended on the outcome of this battle.

A few minutes later, another powerful punch to the stomach made Arrek's legs give way, and he staggered, taking a blow to the ear that proved to be his undoing.

Rika saw his neighbor's face twist in pain and turn pale, and in the next moment, another punch sent him crashing to the floor, unconscious.

Several freshmen, risking getting hit themselves, rushed over to Joss and dragged him to the side. Left alone, Irman fought back with even greater intensity.

The class leader's energy seemed inexhaustible. Just like in the geography classroom, he used everything that came to hand: tables, chairs, books, chessboards, boxes of board games. He snarled like a wild beast, throwing himself at his opponents, and it seemed like he was about to start tearing them apart with his teeth.

Someone raised a hefty piece of a broken bookshelf above his head, ready to strike.

"Irman, behind you!" Rika shouted in warning.

But the shelf never came down on the class leader's skull...

***

The arrival of a new student in the middle of the school year always causes a stir, and St. Isaac's Academy was no exception. However, unlike other schools, the interest in new faces here manifested in a much more... aggressive manner.

Amis knew all too well that a conflict was inevitable, especially since Joss had stood up for the newcomer. But he never imagined that Irman would also get dragged into this unpleasant confrontation.

This infuriated Amis. It irritated him so much that he wanted to destroy the leech clinging to the first-year head guy himself. But all Amis could do at the moment was watch. And his observations slightly cooled the anger brewing in his heart.

The runt mostly stuck close to Joss. He looked at Irman with a certain wariness and quite rarely, which was a relief. Yet, the newcomer was still causing problems.

Earlier that day, Amis had overheard a conversation between Bailey and his classmates. That pimply jerk had been bragging about how he was going to give the newcomer and Joss a "heavenly evening." And he definitely wasn't talking about anything romantic.

That conversation had sparked serious concern in Amis, leaving him tense for the rest of the day.

And when the brawl finally broke out, he found himself once again in the role of a bystander.

But when Joss started losing strength, and Irman rushed to help him, Amis felt the suffocating grip of fear wrap around him.

Outside the academy, there were bad rumors about Herder. The guy had earned a sinister reputation as a complete psycho. Just a year ago, he had beaten a teacher half to death, allegedly because the man had made advances toward him. The teacher had spent a long time in intensive care, and only a miracle had saved him from death. Though the incident was hushed up, Herder had to spend time in a psychiatric facility. When he was released, his father sent him to St. Isaac's Academy, hoping that the strict rules here would keep him in line. But something told Amis that today wouldn't end without bloodshed, and all the efforts of the psychiatrists and Ralph Herder would be in vain. Irman would be locked up in an asylum for the rest of his life, which would completely destroy his already difficult existence.

So Amis was on high alert.

Soon enough, Joss was out of the fight, and Irman was left alone against four opponents. No matter how strong Herder was, he couldn't handle such overwhelming force. And when a piece of a shelf was raised above his head, the sophomore couldn't stay seated any longer.

Amis lunged at the brute and tried to push him aside, but all he managed to do was earn a puzzled look in his direction.

"Get lost!" the third-year growled, shoving Amis away like a pesky gnat.

But Amis was no gnat—he was more like a stubborn tick.

He threw himself at the big guy again, only to be sent flying against the wall. This continued until Amis took a blow from the shelf right to the stomach.

He let out a loud cough and doubled over. The third-year, seizing the moment, turned back to Herder.

But Amis wasn't about to let him carry out his plan.

Charging at the brute, Amis sank his teeth into the guy's arm like a rabid poodle, clamping down so hard that he broke the skin. His tongue was scorched by the disgusting salty taste, but despite the nausea rising in his throat, Amis didn't release his bite until a heavy blow to the temple sent him into the vivid dreams of unconsciousness.

In the heat of his rage, Irman didn't immediately notice the unexpected helper. He skillfully dodged the fists aimed at him, not forgetting to return blows of his own, but he still got hit a couple of times.

Now his head was ringing like a bell, an annoying buzz filled his ears, and his vision blurred as if the room was shrouded in a foggy haze.

He shook his head several times, retreating to the wall to cover his back, and suddenly stepped on something fragile.

His mind cleared a bit, and Irman saw beneath his foot a pair of glasses with cracked lenses and a broken frame. Next to the glasses was Setton's face, lying unconscious on the floor. A thick, crimson drop of blood trickled from his temple down his pale cheek.

Irman raised his gaze to the group of four miscreants surrounding him, and in a fit of fury, he kicked the one standing right in front of him in the groin. The guy howled in pain and, retreating two steps, collapsed to his knees, clutching his crotch with both hands. His comrades immediately charged at Irman, paying no attention to the unconscious sophomore lying at their feet.

But the class leader didn't let them get close to Setton; with one furious shove, he scattered them to the sides, dealing out blows left and right.

Rika watched the fight with bated breath.

There was something mesmerizing about Irman's swift movements. He attacked the seniors with the grace of a predatory animal, knowing exactly what to do and where to strike to temporarily incapacitate his opponents.

But in the end, he began to falter, quickly losing strength and ground.

Rika could tell that Irman was about to collapse. The guy was already swaying. Sometimes he missed punches, and sometimes he missed his own attacks.

A deadly silence hung in the common room, broken only by the cursing and groans of the fighting guys. The students, who had earlier kept their distance from the brawl, now formed a tight circle around the combatants, not wanting to miss the climax of the battle.

No one cheered for the fighters, whistled, or tried to push them toward each other.

Everyone silently waited for Irman to fall. But the guy seemed to be made of steel. Despite losing his balance, he caught the arm of a third-year who lunged at him and, pulling the guy toward him, drove his knee into his face, breaking his nose.

Blood spurted out, and the senior dropped to the floor like a sack, quietly whimpering in pain.

Irman straightened up, his fists still clenched desperately.

It was clear that he wasn't going to give up, despite the fact that his left eye was covered in blood seeping from a cut on his brow, and his bruised leg refused to bend.

Cody, realizing that his crew was facing a crushing defeat, stood up from his chair and approached Irman.

"It seems Joss was the only one claiming the newcomer. What the hell are you doing in this fight?"

Irman spat a glob of blood at Stredford's feet and clenched his fists tightly before responding.

"Because I couldn't care less about a bastard like you," he rasped. "And I've been dreaming of smashing your face in for a long time. This was too good an opportunity to pass up."

"And how'd that work out for you?" Cody sneered. "Looks to me like your face got smashed instead."

"Who said I'm done?" Irman mimicked the third-year's grin and, suddenly lunging forward, landed a punch to Stredford's jaw with such force that it made him stagger.

Cody brought his hand to his chin, touching the bruised spot. His eyes flashed with anger, and with a powerful punch to the stomach, he knocked Irman off his feet.

The class leader fell onto his back, and was immediately met with a barrage of kicks, making him writhe in pain. When he tried to roll onto his stomach in an attempt to get up, Cody grabbed his arm, twisted it, and ordered his guys:

"Break it."

Irman tried to wrench free from Stredford's iron grip, but he didn't have the strength left. One of his opponents picked up a shelf from the floor and, with all his might, brought it crashing down on the class leader's shoulder.

A guttural howl of pain echoed through the room, and Irman's arm fell limply to the floor.

Cody smiled in satisfaction.

"Finish off this trash," he said, returning to his seat with the air of a victor.

Two of his lackeys approached Irman to carry out his order. But Rika, who had been sitting in stunned silence until that moment, didn't let them.

He threw Arrek's and Irman's jackets onto the table and charged into the fight. But his punches didn't land. The guys caught him before he could do anything. They easily grabbed him, laughing like maniacs, and started taunting him:

"Look at that, the prey just ran right into our hands."

"What, can't wait to hop on someone's dick?"

"You know, bunny, that tonight you'll be serving us all night long?"

"And if we don't like it, we'll break your arms too."

"Get off me!" Rika screamed as the guys, having lost interest in Irman, carried him back to the table and threw him down, pulling up his shirt and running their hands over his torso.

"So warm and soft."

"And probably very sweet too."

"What the hell do you want?!" Rika shouted, his voice strained and unfamiliar to him, as a rough hand squeezed the inside of his thigh. "Are you really going to fuck me right here?"

"Of course not," one of the guys replied. "We're just evaluating what now belongs to us."

"Let him go, you bastards!" Irman yelled, snapping out of his shocked state at Rika's screams.

He even managed to get up and take a few steps toward his classmate, but Cody, who had risen from his seat, blocked his path.

"They earned their trophy," the senior said, addressing the class leader. "Don't interfere."

"Fuck you," Irman spat, trying to sidestep the brute, but Cody didn't let him, knocking him to the floor with another punch.

"Herder, I'm warning you, if you don't back off, my guys will take care of you and Setton. Don't make me go to extremes."

Irman involuntarily glanced at the sophomore who had gotten involved in the fight and was still lying unconscious. He swallowed hard. In this state, Setton could easily be taken advantage of, and there didn't seem to be anyone willing to stand up for him.

Irman got back on his feet, wincing from the throbbing pain in his arm, and positioned himself in front of the unconscious sophomore.

He could hear Rika cursing, trying to wriggle free from the excited third-years' grasp. But, unfortunately, he couldn't help him right now.

"Behave yourself," Cody warned, turning away to watch his "guys" have their fun with the newcomer.

Tyler sat the disheveled guy on his lap, holding him tightly. Rob moved closer, groping their "trophy," running his hand under Rika's shirt.

Cody even felt a twinge of jealousy.

The newcomer had a really attractive face, with big brown eyes and soft, tempting lips. Sex with such a cutie could be a lot of fun, but Cody wasn't willing to break his own rules, even for such a sweet guy.

He turned away from the arousing scene and kicked at his friends lying on the floor, trying to rouse them.

Joss also stirred, but didn't open his eyes, still painfully shaking his head.

Rika, trapped in the grip of strong, rough hands, struggled desperately to break free. But it only seemed to make things worse, further inciting his tormentors.

'Isn't anyone going to call the teachers?' Rika thought, his body beginning to tremble violently.

Would no one step in to help him?

What kind of administration does this academy have? How could they allow this to happen? And why is everyone around acting like nothing unusual is going on?

Dodging the unwanted touches, Rika caught sight of his friends. Arrek was lying against the wall, weakly groaning and clutching his head. Irman was standing, shielding the unconscious sophomore with his body, hugging himself with his uninjured arm. His face was as white as chalk. It seemed the shock from the pain had passed, and now the full brunt of it was hitting him.

However, noticing that the newcomer was looking his way, Irman found the strength to shout:

"Rika, fight back! What the hell are you acting like such a wimp for?!"

"Because he is a wimp," Tyler laughed, grabbing the freshman by the crotch and squeezing hard to assert his dominance. "Now he's our toy for the rest of the year. Tell me, bunny, are you happy?"

Rika closed his eyes, biting his lip.

There was little to be happy about in this situation.

But what could he do against these people on his own? Absolutely nothing.

So, he just had to endure it. Eventually, they'd let him go. Then he could think about what to do next.

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