As soon as class ended, Oliver stepped into the hallway.
He had barely taken a few steps when someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind.
“Hi, Oly!” Enid fell into step beside him, grinning in a way she was making absolutely no effort to hide.
“You really made a scene back there.”
“I noticed.”
“No, I mean everyone noticed.” She held her phone in front of his face.
“You’re already all over Nevermore’s social media.”
Oliver looked at the screen.
A picture of the broken desk with a caption: New student breaks a desk in half with his head while taking a nap in History class.
Below it, dozens of comments, theories, and memes.
“…This is exactly why I hate social media.”
Enid laughed.
“It hasn’t even been an hour and people are already calling you ‘Concrete Head.'”
Oliver closed his eyes briefly.
Compared to the system that constantly found new ways to torment him, a stupid nickname was nothing.
He could live with it.
“Forget that,” he said.
“I heard Wednesday Addams is your roommate. Why wasn’t she in class today?”
Enid sighed dramatically.
“I tried to get her to come this morning.”
“And?”
“She looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘History is merely a collection of lies written by the victors. I’d rather die than spend an hour listening to propaganda.'”
“And I still stand by that statement.”
Both of them turned around.
Wednesday stood a few steps behind them in her black Nevermore uniform, expression completely blank, giving no indication of how long she had been there.
Enid gave an awkward smile.
“…Wednesday.”
Wednesday ignored her and shifted her gaze to Oliver, studying him the way someone might examine an insect they hadn’t decided whether to step on yet.
Oliver looked around once, then pointed at himself.
“The giraffe is me?”
“You’re unnecessarily tall.”
“I have a name. It’s Oliver.”
Wednesday looked him directly in the eyes.
“I don’t care.”
Enid glanced between them.
“So… did something happen between you two?”
“Nothing,” Wednesday said.
“Nothing that requires medical attention,” Oliver added.
Enid decided not to pursue it.
“Are you coming to the after-class fencing session, Wednesday?”
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Wednesday’s mouth.
Not warm.
Never warm.
The kind that suggested she was looking forward to something that would make most people uncomfortable.
“Naturally.”
Enid blinked.
“You actually enjoy fencing that much?”
Wednesday looked at her as though the answer were self-evident.
“How could I not? It’s one of the few sports where the objective is to stab the person standing in front of you. Civilization insists on calling it a competition. I find that charming.”
“I have something to take care of in Jericho,” Oliver said, already turning away.
Enid called after him.
“Principal Weems isn’t exactly a fan of students skipping!”
“Then I’ll get her permission,” Oliver replied without looking back, lifting a hand as he continued toward the administration building.
Wednesday watched until he disappeared around the corner.
Then she turned to Enid, expression unchanged.
“What kind of outcast is he?”
Enid blinked.
“Honestly? I have no idea. He’s ridiculously strong though. During History he fell asleep, smacked his head on the desk, and split it clean in half.” The source of this chapter is g.com.
“I’ve already observed that his skin is unusually dense.”
Enid frowned.
“Wait — how do you know that?”
“A guess.”
A brief silence followed before Enid tilted her head.
“By the way — weren’t you dead serious about leaving Nevermore yesterday? You practically packed your bags. What changed?”
Wednesday’s gaze drifted toward the academy gates.
“My departure has merely been delayed. I still have no desire to spend the semester imprisoned in an institution overflowing with adolescent hormones.” She paused almost imperceptibly.
“However, certain developments have made it temporarily inconvenient to leave.”
She didn’t elaborate.
She never did.
***
Oliver left the administration building a few minutes later with an expressionless face.
Principal Weems had rejected his request without a second thought.
Students weren’t permitted to hold part-time jobs during school days.
She had made that perfectly clear.
“…Yeah, that’s not happening.”
The problem was he didn’t have the luxury of following that rule.
He barely had enough money for daily expenses, let alone tuition.
Classes ended in the afternoon anyway — there was nothing stopping him from heading into Jericho afterward and picking up whatever work he could find.
If Weems didn’t approve, she’d simply have to disapprove.
As he walked toward the academy gates, the familiar mechanical voice echoed in his head.
[Main characters are supposed to be poor. They work for everything they have.]
Oliver’s eyelid twitched.
[What kind of protagonist would you be if you could actually afford your daily expenses?]
“Shut up.”
[The system is merely narrating the harsh reality.]
“As always, you’re talking nonsense.”
He ignored it and kept walking toward Jericho, already planning where he could find work before sunset.