The entirety of the first-year students from the blue dorms were behind Braydon, watching with interest. Like most teens, their eyes were locked onto the drama with no intention of getting between them. In fact, there were a few within their ranks who chose to do the opposite. "Shut his big mouth up Braydon!" a boy with red hair shouted. "Yeah! Teach him a lesson." Another chimed in. Their shouts seemed to bolster Braydon’s confidence, causing him to puff out his chest and inch closer towards Michael. It was clear that he was gearing up to fight—disregarding any consequences that might arise. So typical of nobles... Michael lamented, watching the hot-headed youth with pity. People of noble status could often avoid responsibility with mere words or a few greased palms. Children of such families were conditioned to such fallacy. So long as it didn’t cross a certain line, they were free to do whatever they pleased. As Michael looked upon the somewhat handsome face of the young Braydon, he very much wanted to deliver the punch that the kid so deserved. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novèlfire.net But he did not—at least not yet. "Are you going to teach me a lesson?" Michael asked calmly, not backing down. Braydon chuckled, "Oh I’ll teach you a lesson alright..." The boy moved, telegraphing a winding right hand that was thrown from his waist. It was clumsy, almost too slow. "Argh, I’m gonna be late!" A voice called, filled with panic. Michael saw a figure flash by, knocking into the swinging figure of Braydon. Time seemed to slow down as he witnessed the youth get barged into, whiplashing his head into his shoulder. The guy fell to the ground, letting out a pained groan—obviously winded from the sudden and unexpected collision. "O-Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!" Rudy stood over the top of Braydon, his face full of remorse, "I was in such a hurry that I didn’t even see you two there." His words were said with such sincerity that even Michael who had known the guy had been standing not far away during the time of the altercation actually started to believe him. Rudy even bent down and offered Braydon a hand up, which was promptly slapped away. "You bastard..." he replied breathlessly. "Oh, well sorry again but I must be going—I can’t be late to the feast." He said, turning to the others, "you guys should hurry up too, otherwise we might miss out on the delicious food." Rudy then turned to Michael and gave him a small wink before stepping over Braydon’s body as if he was a dead animal on the side of the road. Michael stifled the laugh that almost escaped, his hands reflexively moving up to his mouth to cover it. Seeing the pitiful Braydon steamrolled by a commoner was nothing short of a poetic justice. Being stepped over afterward was just the icing on the cake. After all, how many times had Braydon stepped on or over others? Of course what Rudy did was far more literal—yet all the more satisfying because of it. Filled with a childish glee that he hadn’t felt in so long, Michael grabbed Melody’s hand and rushed after Rudy who had began to run down the halls—following the path that was lit up on the ground before them. "W-What are you doing!?" Melody squealed at the unexpected physical contact. However, he didn’t care. Chasing after Rudy, Michael felt his heart thumping in his chest, laughter escaping his lips as his body felt free. Gone was his responsibilities, his ambitions—it was as if he was just living in the moment. They ran for some time, reaching the stairs a few minutes later. This was where Rudy stopped to catch his breath, the grin remaining despite his fatigue. Michael too slowed down, walking up beside him. He felt a tug of resistance on his arm, followed by the sound of someone gasping for air. He turned, only to see Melody with her hands on her knees, her once perfectly straight and luxurious hair out of place—looking frazzled. In the three years he’d known her, this was the first time he’d seen her in such a state. "You... Bastard..." she cursed between gasps for fresh air. Michael looked at Rudy next to him, the two sharing a brief look of confusion. They had not run for long, nor were they overly fast—so why was Melody so out of breath? Rudy erupted into laughter, his giggles infectious as it washed over the group. Soon, Michael joined in despite the glare burning into the side of his face. Everything had happened so quick that he’d just gone with the flow. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, even now. "Oh man, that was fun." Rudy said smilingly, turning to Melody. "Looks like you need to work on your fitness a little more if you’re so tired after a small jog," he added with a grin. Instead of replying, Melody sent him a glare and waved her left hand, releasing a jet of water from her palm hitting Rudy directly onto his face. The guy could not dodge or protect himself in time, the sound of gurgling briefly filled the hallway. "Ha... Hahaha!" Instead of getting angry, Rudy laughed with glee, "thank you, I was feeling a little parched from the exercise," he replied, sending Michael a wink. Melody’s expression faltered, clearly at a loss of how to respond. Yet this only caused Michael to laugh, gripping his sides as they began to cramp up. Not only had he seen his "fiancée" in such a disheveled state, he’d now seen her speechless—two things that had never come to pass before, at least since he’d known her. Unfortunately for Michael, his laughter was cut short by another jet of water—this time aimed at him. But unlike Rudy who had his face drenched, Michael felt his pants grow wet, causing him to freeze and look down. "HAHAHA, Michael soiled himself!" Rudy exclaimed, pointing at the scene while bursting into laughter. Melody let out a huff, walking past the two of them and making her way down the stairs with measured steps. Michael could only watch as she strut away, unable to respond.