Chapter Four: The Price of Disrespect
As the bell rang signaling the end of the first lecture, the teacher quietly packed up his materials and left the room. The energy in Class 301 shifted in an instant.
With Arpit leading the charge, all the boys stood up and began heading toward the cafeteria. The plan was clear—lunch and laughter. Initially, they discussed sticking to the usual affordable menu, but Arpit interrupted.
"No limits today," he declared casually.
Cheers erupted.
The boys of Class 301 began placing orders without hesitation—loaded fries, double-decker burgers, shakes, gourmet pizza slices, cheese sandwiches, and more. It was a fast-food festival.
Once everyone had eaten their fill, Arpit strolled to the payment counter.
"Bill please," he said, pulling out his Infinity Card.
The stunned staff handed him the total.
"Rs. 34,000, sir."
Without blinking, Arpit swiped the card.
Transaction complete.
The boys stared in disbelief. Some were laughing nervously, others just looked stunned.
"You just spent thirty-four thousand rupees like it was nothing," one whispered.
Arpit shrugged with a relaxed smile. "Don't worry. I have plenty more where that came from."
They walked back to the classroom in a daze. The luxury, the ease, the sheer confidence Arpit exuded—it was magnetic and unsettling.
As the next class began, Raman leaned in.
"Okay seriously, bro. This is getting out of hand. You have to tell me what's going on. Who are you really?"
Arpit sighed, looking between Raman and Ansh.
"I didn't plan to tell you like this. But fine. Listen."
He lowered his voice.
"I was adopted. My biological father left behind a fortune—no, more than that. He wasn't just rich. He was something else. Astral-level. Left me an AI assistant, wealth I can't even begin to measure, and a team of people who serve me like I'm royalty. That card I used today? Barely a fraction of what I have access to."
Raman blinked.
"You're joking, right?"
Arpit shook his head.
"I was just like you. Two weeks ago, I was worried about NEET exams. Now? I'm living in a private villa with armored cars, personal guards, and tech no one's even seen yet."
Raman's face went through a storm of expressions—shock, disbelief, awe, and something more complicated: uncertainty.
Before anyone could say anything else, a staff member burst into the room. He looked furious.
"Who parked in the teacher's lot?! Whose car is it? Come out now or I'll personally make sure it gets towed and smashed!"
Arpit turned back to Raman and Ansh, dismissing the threat. But the staff member wasn't letting it go.
"You think I'm joking? Come out now or I'll have it trashed myself!"
Arpit stood slowly.
"Do it," he said calmly. "If you can afford the repairs."
Gasps echoed across the room.
The staff member stormed forward, seething. "You little—who the hell do you think you are? Some prince? Some royal brat?!"
Arpit didn't flinch. "I told you nothing wrong. I just warned you."
Their physics lecturer, startled by the rising tension, stepped in to calm the situation. He placed a hand on the staff member's shoulder.
"Let's settle this calmly, please."
Grumbling, the staff member turned to leave. But Arpit's voice rang out again.
"Where are you going?"
Everyone turned. The lecturer froze. The staff member stopped mid-step.
Arpit's voice was colder now.
"Apologize. You insulted my mother. Publicly. Make it right. Now."
The staff member spun around, eyes bloodshot. "I'll never apologize to you, you bloody mother—"
That was it.
Arpit's calm shattered. In one fluid motion, he threw his phone like a missile. It struck the staff member squarely on the forehead.
Blood streamed instantly.
The lecturer shouted in panic and rushed the staff member out for first aid, while the class exploded into chaos.
Arpit remained seated, trembling with rage. He picked his phone up from the floor, dialed a number, and held it to his ear.
"Sebastien," he said, voice steady but sharp. "Send the hunting dogs. Now."
Back at the villa, Sebastien went pale.
"Deploy Unit Alpha," he ordered instantly.
Within two minutes, sixty fully armored guards loaded into black tactical vehicles. Each man carried advanced American and Russian weaponry—LMGs, SMGs, shotguns. They moved like a private military strike team.
The convoy tore down the main road toward the coaching center.
Back in Class 301, Arpit was still seething.
Then the door opened.
The physics lecturer returned—accompanied by the coaching center director, the chemistry lecturer, and the wounded staff member.
The staff member, bandage hastily taped to his forehead, began screaming at Arpit again.
"You think you can buy respect?! You think money makes you invincible?!"
He charged forward.
And then—
BOOM.
The classroom door burst open.
In stormed the armed guards, faces hidden behind visors, dressed in sleek black tactical gear.
The staff member was on the floor in seconds, pinned down by two guards.
Another pair rushed to Arpit's side, checking for injuries.
Sebastien entered calmly, his presence silencing the room. He pulled out his phone and made a call.
Seconds later, the director's phone rang.
He glanced at the screen—and his face turned white.
He answered.
A voice on the other end roared. "Have you lost your mind?! Do you know who you're dealing with?! APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW!"
The director stammered, phone shaking in his hands.
Before he could even speak, Arpit stood.
He turned to his friends.
"Let's go."
Raman and Ansh stood without hesitation.
They left the classroom in silence, the guards forming a protective circle around them.
And thus, the boy who once quietly sat at the back of Class 301 walked out as something far more powerful.
[End of Chapter Four]