The next morning, the soft chime of the bell echoed across the campus, signaling the start of another day at Westbridge University.
Claude walked steadily toward the lecture hall, his bag slung casually over his shoulder.
Thanks to the system's grooming schedule, his styled hair, polished shoes, and perfectly fitted uniform made him stand out without him even realizing it.
Inside the hall, students were already gathering.
Conversations halted for a brief second when Claude entered, though he remained unaware of the curious gazes cast his way.
Some looked at him with subtle intrigue, others with concealed wariness, and a few with admiration.
Claude, however, chose his usual seat—the quiet corner where he could stay unnoticed.
At least, that was what he thought.
As the professor arrived and began preparations for the lecture, Claude pulled out his notebook, keeping a neutral, unbothered expression.
But beneath the surface, more than one pair of eyes lingered on him, measuring, questioning, and wondering.
As Claude reached into his bag to take out his notebook, his sleeve shifted just enough to reveal a glint of polished metal.
The faint shimmer of the Royal Celestial Edition Watch peeked out beneath his cuff.
It was subtle, almost hidden, yet sharp eyes in the room caught it instantly.
Whispers stirred like sparks in dry grass.
"Did you see that?"
"A watch… wait, isn't that—?"
"No, it couldn't be. There are only ten of those in the world!"
Some students leaned forward, trying to catch another glimpse, while others exchanged quiet, knowing looks.
Among heirs, luxury accessories weren't just fashion—they were declarations of power and legacy.
Claude, oblivious, calmly jotted down notes, his sleeve falling back into place to cover the watch.
To him, it was just the system's reward, something he hadn't yet considered showing off.
But to his classmates, that brief flash was enough to ignite a storm of speculation.
And at the center of it, Alexander Castillo's sharp eyes narrowed slightly, watching Claude with renewed focus.
Alexander sat upright, his expression composed as ever, eyes seemingly locked on the professor at the front of the hall.
To anyone watching, he was the image of discipline—calm, attentive, unshaken.
But inside, chaos raged.
The image of that watch, the faint gleam beneath Claude's sleeve, refused to leave his mind.
The Royal Celestial Edition… impossible.
Even within the Castillo Conglomerate, with all their wealth and influence, such an item had been beyond reach.
That watch wasn't something one could simply buy. It was granted—bestowed by connections and authority of the highest level.
A mere heir could not casually obtain it.
And yet… a supposed pretender, someone who introduced himself with no family name or legacy, was wearing it as though it were nothing.
Alexander's fist curled under the desk, hidden from sight.
Why would a faker… have something like that? Unless… he's no pretender at all?
The thought unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
He forced his breathing steady, outwardly calm, but his keen eyes flickered once toward Claude, who remained quietly writing notes, as though unaware of the storm brewing around him.
For the first time, Alexander Castillo's certainty wavered.
Claude kept his head down, pen gliding steadily across the page as he copied the lecture notes.
His expression remained neutral, but a faint crease formed between his brows.
He could feel it—the weight of eyes on him. Not just one or two glances, but several.
It was subtle, yet unmistakable.
Is it just me…?
He thought, his pen momentarily pausing.
Why are they looking at me like that?
He shifted slightly in his seat, resisting the urge to glance around.
Did I do something wrong? Or….
His eyes flicked to his sleeve for a brief second.
The edge of the watch was still hidden, but a pang of realization hit him.
Don't tell me… they saw it?
Claude straightened his back, forcing himself to keep writing as if nothing were happening.
He could practically feel the whispers and glances brushing against him, but he maintained his composure, the noble-like temperament the system demanded of him acting as his only shield.
Inside, however, his thoughts swirled.
Great...
Just great....
If they really saw it, this act just got ten times harder.
The bell rang, signaling the short break between lectures.
Claude stretched his arms slightly, letting out a quiet sigh before glancing around the room.
Most students clustered together, laughing, chatting, and exchanging numbers.
Connections were being built as heirs naturally gravitated toward those of equal status.
But then Claude noticed them—one particular group sitting toward the back.
Unlike him, who was merely left alone out of caution and mystery, this group wasn't just ignored.…
.....they were treated as if they didn't belong at all.
Other students avoided eye contact with them, conversations seemed to shift away whenever they tried to join, and their presence was brushed aside with a kind of cold dismissal even sneers.
Claude's brows furrowed slightly.
So I'm not the only one standing apart… but their situation looks worse than mine.
While he was being observed carefully, treated with wary respect due to his hidden background, they were being disregarded entirely, like shadows no one wanted to acknowledge.
Claude tapped his pen against his notebook slowly, deep in thought.
Why though?
If they made it into Westbridge University, they must've had the qualifications.....
Then why treat them as if they don't even exist?
He leaned back in his chair, quietly observing.
For the first time, Claude realized the social battlefield of the classroom wasn't just about heirs flaunting their names… it was also about who was allowed to stand in the light, and who was cast into the shadows.
Claude glanced once more at the three students sitting quietly in the back before the professor returned.
They didn't speak much, only exchanged whispers among themselves, yet the air around them was heavy with exclusion.
He jotted their faces in his memory, a silent note to himself.
When the lecture finally ended, the professor dismissed the class with a wave.
Students began to disperse, voices filling the hall as groups reformed, eager to head out together.
Claude packed his notes neatly, his pace steady as he left the room alone.
The corridor was calm, sunlight spilling through the tall windows as he walked.
Then, the familiar flicker of light appeared before his eyes.
|╣NEW TASK ISSUED╠|
Claude blinked, slowing his steps. "Already…?" he muttered under his breath.
|╣Task: Make connections. Wealth does not exist in isolation. Build alliances, form networks, and establish ties.╠|
Claude stopped in his tracks, his brows drawing together. "Connections…?"
|╣Correct. Influence is as valuable as currency. To grow wealthy, host must not only appear rich, but move within circles of power.╠|
Claude exhaled softly, tilting his head.
"Easier said than done… If I approach the heirs, they'll pry into my background. Dangerous. But those three…"
The system pulsed faintly, as though in approval.
|╣Host must decide. Connection is opportunity.╠|
Claude smirked faintly, resuming his walk back to the dorm. "Alright then. Looks like tomorrow just got a little more interesting."
Claude adjusted the strap of his bag as he made his way down the campus path, but then his eyes caught sight of the three students again.
They were huddled together near a quiet corner, speaking softly among themselves.
He slowed his pace, watching them from a distance.
Despite the cold shoulder from their classmates, the three seemed closer to each other than anyone else in the lecture hall.
Their bond was obvious—the kind forged not by wealth or influence, but by shared struggle.
Claude's lips pressed into a thin line. "They really are different…"
But just as he was about to leave, another figure walked toward them.
Claude narrowed his eyes, curiosity pricking at him.
Instead of heading straight back to the dorm, he moved closer, slipping behind a wall of hedges to listen unnoticed.
What he heard next soured his mood instantly.
"So, the three scholarship strays again, huh? Thought you'd crawl back to the hole you came from."
The student's tone was mocking, laced with arrogance.
One of the three clenched his fists but stayed quiet, the second lowered his gaze, while the third tried to force a shaky smile.
"We earned our spots here. We're not leaving."
The bully scoffed, stepping closer.
"Earned? Don't make me laugh. Westbridge is for heirs and elites. People like you only drag the name of this university down."
Claude's expression darkened behind his cover.
His hand tightened around the strap of his bag as he listened, a mix of anger and bitterness stirring inside him.
Scholarships… just like me. So that's why they're treated like outsiders.
The sharp sting of familiarity hit him.
He could almost see himself standing in their place if not for the system shielding his background.
Claude's jaw tensed.
So this is what they face openly, while I hide behind an act…