Chapter 5
“C hancellor Morgan, did you receive my parents’ generous donation to Pantheon?” Kay crossed his fingers, each one adorned with an excess of rings.
Mr. Morgan readjusted his tie, failing miserably to sneak past our balcony to go on stage to give his usual boring welcome speech. “I did. I’d like to say it’s a delight to have you three back this year, but that would be a lie.”
“It wouldn’t have hurt to say thank you,” I said, my eyes locking on the old computer he grasped in his hands. The same as last year. “Don’t you agree, sir?”
Mr. Morgan’s face paled. We’d had an understanding for the past two years. He would stay out of our business, and I would stay out of his extramarital activities. Not like he had any power, anyway—he was merely a lackey, beholden to the whims of those in higher positions. I might have arrived at Pantheon as an outsider, but now I was part of the chessboard, the students my pawns. Eat or be eaten. Be the predator or become the prey.
“That’s right.” Mr. Morgan’s lips contorted into a hard line. “Apologies. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He slipped away from our balcony with his tail between his legs. I took my phone out and opened the AI chess game I’d created a few years back when social interactions weren’t enough to keep my brain entertained.
“You traumatized him,” Cillian said in his thick British accent.
“He’s going to miss us.” Kay sighed. “Maybe at the end of the year, we should send his wife everything Levi has on him. It’d be a shame to leave this place without some drama.”
“I don’t give information out for pleasure,” I quipped. “It’s better to save it for something more efficient.”
“You’re a party killer as always,” Kay mumbled.
My opponent opened in 1.e4. King’s Pawn Opening, the most popular and scholarly move. That was why I always played with the black. I could get in my opponent’s head with just one move and choose from various counterattack strategies to annihilate him.
“Hey, guys. How was your summer?” The voice came from the most utterly boring person on earth—son of the French Defense Minister and third-year politics student, Sylas. Only I knew his deepest secret. It was satisfying to know that I was the only one capable of ruining his perfect image.
“I was on my father’s yacht, you?” Each time Kay could flaunt his money, he would.
“Humanitarian mission. We helped in refugee camps,” Sylas said, and I couldn’t help but curl my lips into the closest thing to a smile I could manage. “Next year, why don’t you guys join me?”
I need to optimize the AI algorithm and implement new chess moves. It was far too easy to beat.
“The world needs more people like you, Sylas.” Kay pointed at him, knowing perfectly well that he was too selfish to do that. “Those hands are certainly not fit for labor.”
“Or anything.” Cillian snorted. He always managed to get under Kay’s skin with just a few words.
“What about you, Levi?”
I increased my pace, unleashing a pawn storm for checkmate. “I don’t do socials, but I do warfare, surveillance software, and AI.”
The Unifier student in him grimaced. “You’re maybe not the right person for a humanitarian mission.” Of that, we could agree. “I’ll see you after the ceremony. I’m sure one of you will be elected headmaster of their house.”
“Am I the only one who wants to punch him?” Kay asked before leaning on his arm against the balcony wall, encroaching on my personal space. “Now, Levi, what was the show with the white-haired girl about? You left us and headed straight in her direction like a nuclear missile. Didn’t figure she’d be your style; she looks so… pure, and you’re so… you.”
I was two moves away from checkmate, but in a bad move, I let my opponent’s pawn slip through my fingers.
Dalia Mercier and her Kiss of Death.
It had been 1666 days since I last saw her.
I scowled. “Is your straight side interested in fucking her, or is it the gay part of you trying to dig deeper into my psyche like my fucking therapist?”
He grinned. “That’d depend on which one pisses you off the most.”
“Leveraging your half-Korean heritage to your advantage won’t work with her,” I said, trusting her to have more brain cells than to fall for his smooth-talking.
I squandered my available time, the clock ticking in my opponent’s favor, as I scanned the rows, seeking that shock of white hair amid the crowd.
“I didn’t know you, out of all the people, could feel threatened. And by me? I’m getting a hard-on just thinking about it.” Kay laughed. I didn’t. “Why so possessive? I never minded sharing with any of you.”
Dalia’s journey at Pantheon University was about to take a dark turn. I would be the shadowy figure lurking in the background, ready to lure her into the depths of my revenge game that I’d designed specifically for her. She knew I was staring at her. I could feel the way her eyes drifted to the side, and her friend—Yasmine, a scholarship kid, if I remember correctly—wasn’t exactly discreet.
“In the future, refrain from sharing. I remind you that I am still your roommate, and bleaching my eyes is not an option,” Cillian said.
“It’s not my fault you’re a virgin,” Kay taunted.
I curved my hand into a fist. My fingertips still stung after grazing her skin earlier. Washing my hands with sodium hydroxide wouldn’t be enough to get rid of the feeling of her.
“I’m going to break her.” I cut their daily squabble, a tic working in my jaw. “But slowly. I don’t want to drive her out of Pantheon because what would the fun be in that? She wants to be here so badly? Well, I’ll make sure she feels the constant reminder of my presence everywhere.”
She made me feel powerless, and I’d sworn that I would never ever feel that way again.
I’d killed that weakness called feelings a long time ago.
Dalia was all alone, and this time, it was my turn to haunt her. My loathing for her didn’t vanish; if anything, it became even more maddening.
I would take everything from her. I’d peel away her layers and expose her vulnerabilities. I’d shape her into a weapon to use against Daddy dearest. Bullies like him deserved to fall. Four years ago, I decided I’d end his reign and found a strange error in his enterprise. A gut feeling, but it wasn’t not enough to bring him down. Yet.
Who’s fucking powerless now?
Kay chuckled. “It’s going to be entertaining to watch. I’ll be glad to assist you—”
“No.” I interrupted. “She’s mine.”
My phone vibrated. I only had ten seconds left before the end of the game. I pre-moved all my moves, and… checkmate. The black won.
“Good afternoon, new students and returning students!” Mr. Morgan basked in the crowd’s applause, which gave him what his narcissistic personality craved. He played the humility card, laying a hand across his heart as my two idiotic friends applauded. “As you know, our university policy is acceptance. We want each student to find their place and believe in your potential. This is why Pantheon founders created the four houses and the head of each house to guide you during your studies. Think of your house like a fraternity or a sorority, building long-lasting friendships. We’ll give you all the keys to succeed, thanks to our rigorous academic curriculum—”
The pompous speech was boring, that was a given, but the moment he fully lost me was when his disgusting PowerPoint slide appeared on the screen. He even struggled to switch slides with his remote. How had no one updated those slides? Were they all blind to mediocrity?
I needed a distraction, so in a matter of seconds, I downloaded the data I had intercepted when I’d connected Dalia to my Wi-Fi. Pantheon was a vast network of potential victims and opportunities for chaos, and with every keystroke, I solidified my reign. No one was safe from my reach. My reputation had been built upon ruthless precision because no one was innocent in this world of the elite and powerful.
Dalia’s passwords, browsing history, messages, photos, contacts—all laid bare before me. It was a treasure trove of ammunition. This time, I was the one infiltrating her life like a malware. Her last Google searches were about “how to make friends,” “how to fit in at a new school,” and “how to leave your family behind without feeling guilty.” My lips curled. How sweet. Going on to the next, I noticed most of her life revolved around the violin and music. Looks like she hasn’t changed. No pictures with friends, and her contacts included mostly older people from church. She was lonely. Nothing unusual to report, apart from the fact that she seemed deeply intrigued by ways to get an orgasm. Probably a virgin.
“This year, our talented artist Tara Ahmad will be the headmistress of the Pioneers. She’s shone with her leadership skills, and she has the top grades in most of her classes.”
More applause.
Tara’s brown eyes narrowed on me since she couldn’t bear to be ignored. I indulged her earlier only because Dalia was watching us when I delivered her the news that the little sexual game we’d been playing was futile and over. I was utterly bored, and all of her best efforts couldn’t spark anything. Not that she wanted me—or worse, liked me. She probably hated my guts, but what she hated even more was failing. A true Pioneer at heart.
“For the Guardians, our future lawyer, Lidia Brickel, who published a best-selling book about women’s rights!”
Applause again even though no one cared about the Guardians. They were invisible. However, the worst house, with their idealistic ideologies and team-building activities, was the—
“For the Unifiers, Sylas Archambault! He showed impeccable academic records and is active with many charities; he is a role model to follow.”
“Obviously.” Kay flung his legs onto the seat before him, his platinum-toned sneakers dangling above. You wouldn’t believe he was the heir to a French luxury fashion empire. “The look on your face when you’ll be elected headmaster will be priceless.”
“I don’t want to deal with a bunch of terrified idiots and tell them what to—”
“And Levi Delombre will be the headmaster of the Tacticians since he’s shown great academic expertise and is deeply involved in the campus’s activities .”
I didn’t miss Mr. Morgan’s irony since my involvement at the university gave him more problems than anything. He motioned for me to stand—he’d dared to write my name on this awful slide with our house emblem—and I raised my hand briefly in acknowledgment. Shit. The bastard had won this round.
Maybe I could find a loophole to expel myself from this dreadful task. Maybe the fact I was one year ahead for my age—I could definitely play on the immaturity card.
“Now, it’s time for our new students to discover which house they’ll belong to for the rest of their studies.”
He finally started listing the students’ names, and I straightened my posture.
“We really have to stay for the whole thing? There are hundreds of them,” Kay groaned, jerking his head back.
“It’s part of the whole ‘we welcome you in’ tradition,” Cillian quoted, scrolling through his Kindle for a nonfiction book he hadn’t read yet.
More names.
More applause.
“Dalia Mercier,” Mr. Morgan called, and I leaned forward, lifting my hand for none of my friends to speak. “Unifiers.”
A part of me had wanted her to be thrown into the den of the Tacticians under my care.
“I’ve never seen Levi so obsessed with anyone or anything before.” Kay laughed. “I’m almost jealous.”
Cillian lifted a brow. “It’s probably just his psycho tendencies.”
“Shut up, both of you,” I rasped.
I didn’t like that smug smile on Sylas’s face, nor how relieved she seemed. Unifiers would finish last again like every year; there was nothing to be thrilled about.
“Disappointed?” Kay teased.
“No,” I said.
It just made the game even more interesting.
As the proceedings droned on, I delved into the chancellor’s computer since he’d never bothered to notice the RAT I had installed on his device a year ago through phishing emails. He made it too easy for me.
“What are you doing?” That came from Cillian.
“Doing everyone a favor. And they say I’m not a team player.”
Suddenly, Mr. Morgan’s screen switched into update mode, and the slideshow disappeared. Oops.
“You’re one crazy genius motherfucker, you know that?” Kay gave me a friendly shoulder slap, which resulted in me narrowing my eyes on him.
From the stage, Mr. Morgan shot me a stern look, his eyes suggesting he suspected my involvement in the current chaos, but he couldn’t prove it. I had taken control of his computer; the update was simply a decoy.
“Technical issues, nothing serious,” Mr. Morgan said. “First years, I—come to see me for your house results. Monique! Can you print the test results? The computer doesn’t seem to work! The ones I’ve called can leave and get settled on campus, and Monique…”
Gathering my belongings, I made a swift exit, swinging open the back doors. Within moments, a stream of students followed. When I thought I was freed, someone shouted my name.
“Mr. Delombre!”
I looked back and saw a kid with a backpack big enough to fit the remains of a human body. Probably a first year—the type that’d had Pantheon posters hanging on his bedroom wall since the age of eight and, judging by his geeky shirt, played video games online while having no clue how to make real friends.
“I’m Miguel. I’m a Tactician and a computer science student too. I’ve been wondering if you need an assistant or—”
“Get the fuck out,” I said, but he continued to follow me like a damn puppy.
“You’re our head,” he said, “and I have a list of questions I’ve been meaning to—”
“I told you to get out of my face.”
News flash, he didn’t.
“I know you’re busy, but I—”
I stopped and towered over him, which made him retreat two steps back. “Congratulations, Michel, since you want to be involved so badly, you can be the Tactician’s new doggy. Maybe that way, you’ll be obedient and stop killing my ears with your incessant ramblings. No one likes a crybaby. Now, be invisible and leave me alone.”
The boy closed his lips and lowered his head.
I was finally free to leave in peace. I’d saved my best game for last, prepping for Dalia’s arrival all this time. That girl couldn’t resist following whatever dream had led her to this place, and thank fuck for that. She made it so easy for me.
In chess, the king may be the most important piece, but it’s also the most useless. He’s trapped, waiting for his fall, relying on his pawns, just like Mercier and people like him. Those who think they are untouchable.
And how do you destroy a king’s kingdom?
You break his centerpiece.
The one who started it all.
The queen.