Samuel Clark played a few rounds of games with them. During that time, David Bolton took a phone call. His mom was yelling on the other end, “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you know what time it is? Why aren’t you home yet?” David Bolton lied with his eyes wide open: “I’m stuck on a few problems, so I stayed to ask my classmate for help…”

David Bolton’s mom didn’t believe a word of her kid’s nonsense: “Nonsense! Is your classmate right next to you? Why can’t I hear anyone explaining the problems?”

David Bolton was out of options and could only cast a pleading look at Samuel Clark.

Samuel Clark, while typing on the keyboard, played along and said in a convincing tone, “This problem is actually pretty simple.”

David Bolton signaled with his eyes, ‘If you’re going to make something up, make it sound good.’

Samuel Clark: “I’ll say, you write.”

Samuel Clark even managed to sound like he knew what he was doing, dragging out the last syllable: “‘Solution,’ colon.”

David Bolton: “……”

“And then?” David Bolton waited a long time but didn’t hear anything more, “…Say a bit more.”

Samuel Clark: “Then you can move on to the next problem.”

“…………”

Luckily, David Bolton’s mom couldn’t hear exactly what Samuel Clark was saying over the phone: “Once you finish going over the problems with your classmate, come home early. Mom made your favorite braised pork.”

David Bolton couldn’t stall any longer. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and, before logging off, screamed internally: Of all the people he could ask for help, why did it have to be this one? Even the net café manager probably knows high school material better than the guy sitting next to him!

David Bolton hung up the phone. “Boss, your explanations really get straight to the point.”

Samuel Clark finished clearing the minion wave and said, “You’re welcome.”

“I’m heading out then,” David Bolton said before leaving. “Don’t stay too late yourself. It’s just the start of the semester—getting caught wouldn’t be good.”

Samuel Clark twisted open a bottle of mineral water beside him and replied, sounding extremely perfunctory.

“Go ahead,” Samuel Clark said. “They won’t catch me.”

Samuel Clark stayed in the net café until it got dark, watching a BBC documentary until the end. He started to feel a bit bored, leaned his head back, took off his headphones, and planned to go to the front desk to buy something to eat.

At the front desk, there was nothing but instant noodles and some duck legs and chicken feet. Samuel Clark glanced over, but nothing appealed to him, so he just grabbed a mint from the side.

After paying, he unwrapped one and popped it into his mouth, then pushed open the door to get some air in the stairwell.

He had barely taken a few steps when there was a “bang” from the area in the stairwell where junk was piled up.

“That’s all the money you’ve got?”

“My breakfast money for tomorrow is in there too, I really don’t have anything left…” It was a boy, his voice timid and hesitant.

Bang—!

Another sound of something being kicked over.

“I told you, if you can’t come up with two hundred this time, don’t blame us for being rough,” the guy kicking things said in a hoarse voice. “Are you looking for a beating?”

This kind of black-market net café was a high-risk place to begin with.

All sorts of people mixed together, so things like this weren’t unusual.

The mint in Samuel Clark’s mouth felt especially cold. He leaned against the wall and listened for a while, then bit the mint to pieces before casually walking over to the pile of junk.

In the area surrounded by junk stood four people, all with that classic dyed yellow hair, not wearing school uniforms—probably not students from No. 6 High. The one being surrounded, on the other hand, stood out in his gray-blue school uniform.

“I’m sorry, please let me go. Tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll definitely give you the money…”

The four yellow-haired guys finished counting the hundred-something yuan in their hands, exchanged glances, and started laughing: “Tomorrow? Tomorrow it won’t be this amount.”

They didn’t get to laugh for long, because as soon as they finished speaking, the one holding the money felt a tap on his shoulder from behind.

“—Who is it?!”

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” Samuel Clark stepped forward, casually resting his hand on the guy’s shoulder like they were buddies, but his words were completely different, “You guys are too noisy.”

The delinquent holding the money turned his head and froze when he saw Samuel Clark.

To be fair, even though Samuel Clark had a notorious reputation, his looks still turned plenty of heads at school.

Black T-shirt, dark blue jeans, an earring.

Aside from this getup that clearly didn’t look like a proper student, Samuel Clark’s features were sharp and striking, with slightly upturned eyes that looked distracted, but there was still a wildness in his gaze that couldn’t be hidden. Anyone who saw him would think he was the kind of bad student who always had disciplinary notices posted about him.

Most importantly, he looked even more like someone who’d come to rob people than they did.

“You…” The delinquent with the money was intimidated by his presence, stammering, “Are you here to rob us too?”

Samuel Clark smiled. “You could say that.”

Samuel Clark took his hand off the guy’s shoulder, flexed his wrist, and casually asked, “How much have you guys taken from him so far? Do you want me to do it, or will you hand it over yourselves?”

The delinquents: “……”

The four yellow-haired guys were scared off.

They were only sixteen or seventeen themselves, just out to scare some easy targets. But when they ran into someone who looked even tougher than them, they didn’t dare act cocky anymore.

They didn’t care about anything else, just pulled out all the money they had in their pockets, threw it on the ground, and after saying, “Sorry, boss, we didn’t know this was your turf,” they ran down the stairs.

Samuel Clark bent down, picked up the scattered money, stacked it neatly, and crouched down.