William Foster temporarily put aside the matter of the placement test and said, “Where did you go after the exam yesterday? Did you sneak out of school again?”

At this, the boy finally managed to stand up straight and asked casually, “Did someone see me leave the school?”

William Foster: “No, they didn’t.”

Samuel Clark pondered for a moment. “Did the surveillance cameras catch it?”

William Foster: “…No, they didn’t either.”

Samuel Clark was clearly making sure that there were no loose ends about leaving school, and only then did he answer openly, “I didn’t leave campus.”

“……”

William Foster tried to organize his words in his mind, wanting to say something more.

But Samuel Clark was really out of patience.

“Teacher,” he said, “if this is about my grades, that’s enough. You teach your class, whether I study or how much I study is my own business. You really don’t need to talk to me about this.”

Samuel Clark’s voice wasn’t loud. In the noisy office, filled with the sound of pages turning, teachers assigning tasks, and students chatting as they came and went, his words were spoken casually and didn’t attract attention.

But William Foster heard every word clearly, and was stunned by this casual and arrogant remark. After a long pause, he finally said, “What kind of attitude is that? Is that how you talk to a teacher—then why do you even come to school?!”

Samuel Clark met his gaze without flinching.

Only then did William Foster notice that the boy in front of him didn’t just break the rules by “not wearing a school uniform”—he even wore an earring in his right ear, a piece of black onyx encircled by silver. This not-so-subtle black earring was half-hidden by his messy hair.

Why do you even come to school?

This question echoed several times in Samuel Clark’s mind.

“Just think of me as someone here to kill time,” after a while, Samuel Clark reached out, pulled the test paper off the desk, and grabbed it carelessly. “Don’t bother with me.”

Only Samuel Clark’s test paper had been withheld in the whole class. When he walked in with it, the previously lively classroom instantly fell silent, as if someone had suddenly hit the pause button on a movie.

A boy in the front row was sticking his butt out, upper body sprawled across his desk, reaching for a classmate’s cookies in the second row. When he saw Samuel Clark come in, he froze in that awkward position.

“The school tyrant’s aura is too strong,” the boy whispered, “I don’t dare move. I’m so tired like this. Hey, can I just have one of your cookies…?”

For all the students in Class 7, Grade 11, ever since they saw the class assignment list, the only word to describe their mood was suffocating.

Two days ago, the whole grade stood anxiously at the school gate.

“Which class is Samuel Clark in?”

“Class 7. Phew, I’m in Class 6.”

“Damn, I’m in Class 7…”

“Man, what kind of luck is that? Hang in there, there’s only two years left of high school. Two years will fly by in a flash.”

Who is Samuel Clark?

The infamous school tyrant.

The most notorious misfit in the school.

Back in Grade 10, because he refused to wear the school uniform, the grade director lost his temper several times, made him stand as punishment, called his parents, and even had him stand in front of the whole school to make a public self-criticism. In the end, none of it worked—he still refused to wear the uniform.

With a strong faculty and a strict school atmosphere, Linjiang No. 6 High School, whose motto is “Civilized and Harmonious, Diligent and Pragmatic,” hadn’t seen another student like him in over a decade.

Samuel Clark walked past them to the last row.

His T-shirt and jeans stood out even after leaving the office, and in the sea of gray-blue uniforms in the classroom, he was even more conspicuous.

He was tall, and since he was late on the day of registration, there were only two empty seats left in the class. Other than the last row, there was nowhere else to sit. The other empty seat was to his left, across the aisle, and had been empty since yesterday—apparently, that student was on leave.

Samuel Clark didn’t care who the absent person was. He dragged out his chair, planning to go back to sleep. As he did, the boy in front couldn’t help but tremble, gripping his pen.

Samuel Clark thought for a moment, picked up his chair, bent down slightly, and patted the boy on the shoulder with his other hand.

The pen almost flew out of the boy’s hand, and he had to turn around. “Is… is there something you need?”

Samuel Clark: “Aren’t you cramped?”

“Huh?”

Samuel Clark pointed at the boy’s chest, which was pressed tightly against the edge of the desk. By his estimate, the boy had left himself less than thirty centimeters of space. If he wanted to go to the bathroom, he’d have to slide down, squat, and crawl out from under the desk. He asked again, “Aren’t you cramped?”

The boy opened his mouth. “I…”

Of course I’m cramped, but I can’t say that! And I definitely can’t get too close to you!

Samuel Clark got tired of waiting for an answer and simply pulled his own desk back a bit.

First period in the morning was English. Samuel Clark was just about to lay down and get some sleep when someone knocked twice on the window beside him.

A few heads squeezed the window open from the hallway and poked in. “Boss.”

Samuel Clark rested his hand on the back of his neck, turned his head slightly at the sound, and said, “I’m trying to sleep. If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”