"What did you just say?" Ms. Zhao's voice dropped an octave.
She had only been teaching for a few months, and her biggest fear was losing authority over her students. Seeing Austin—a known rebel—actually talking back to her in her own office made her blood boil. "Maybe I should just pick up the phone and call your father right now. Let's see how he feels about your little 'miracles' on the quiz."
Austin didn't flinch. Instead, he let out a short, dry laugh.
"What's so funny?" Ms. Zhao snapped. She was used to this being her 'nuclear option'—the one threat that brought even the toughest slackers to their knees. But with Austin, it had failed spectacularly.
"Ms. Zhao," Austin said, leaning back with a hint of coldness in his eyes. "Don't you think that running to a student's parents every time there's a problem is just a sign of a teacher's incompetence?"
Ms. Zhao froze. She had expected a plea for mercy, not a philosophical critique of her teaching methods. She opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat. She thought about it for a second. If she couldn't handle a single eighteen-year-old boy without calling his father, what kind of educator was she?
"You... you have a point," she admitted, much to Austin's surprise. "Fine. If calling your parents is incompetence, then I will handle this myself. Starting tomorrow, you will report to this office every day after school. I'm going to personally tutor you in mathematics until you can pass a test without 'divine intervention'."
"Wait, what?" It was Austin's turn to be stunned. He wanted to slap himself. In trying to be clever, he had just traded his free, post-school lounging time for private sessions with a teacher.
"You heard me. Now, take your quiz and get out," she said, tossing the paper at him. "I didn't even bother grading it. Think about what you've done."
Austin grabbed the paper and slunk out of the office. He stuffed the quiz into his pocket, his mind a mess. On one hand, spending an hour alone with a woman as beautiful as Ms. Zhao was every high school boy's fantasy. On the other hand... Math? He'd rather eat glass.
When he returned to the classroom, the atmosphere was thick with tension. As soon as he reached his desk, Vincent—the golden boy, the captain, and the bane of Austin's existence—stood in his way.
"Austin. Outside. Now. We need to have a talk in the alley," Vincent said, his voice trembling with suppressed rage.
"A talk?" Austin smirked. He knew exactly what this was about. Vincent was playing the knight in shining armor for Chloe after the "lingerie incident" earlier. "Sure, Captain. Lead the way."
They walked out to a secluded corner of the campus. Vincent spun around, his face reddening. "I don't know what you said to Chloe, but I'm warning you—stay away from her. A piece of trash like you shouldn't even be breathing the same air as a girl like that."
"Trash?" Austin's eyes grew cold. The "Mad Dog" inside him was waking up. "Vincent, you're the one acting like her bodyguard when she didn't even ask for one. My business with her is none of yours."
"You think you're special because you grew a spine today?" Vincent sneered, stepping into Austin's personal space. "Look at yourself. You're a loser with a factory-worker father and zero future. Chloe is a queen. You're just a toad dreaming of eating swan meat. If I hear you bothering her again, I'll make sure you're expelled before the week is over."
"Try it," Austin whispered, stepping even closer until their chests nearly touched. "But remember—I have nothing to lose. You do."
Vincent stepped back, momentarily unsettled by the raw intensity in Austin's eyes. Just then, Chloe herself appeared at the end of the hallway.
"Vincent! Austin! What are you two doing?" she demanded, her eyes darting between them.
"Nothing, Chloe," Vincent immediately switched back to his charming, heroic persona. "I was just giving Austin some... friendly advice about his grades. For your sake."
Chloe frowned, looking at Austin. "Vincent, I told you I could handle it. Austin, the bell for evening study is about to ring. Don't you dare skip it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Austin said, giving Chloe a look that made her blush and turn away.
Vincent watched them, his teeth gritted. "We'll finish this later," he hissed at Austin before walking back to his seat.
The evening study session was quiet, the only sound being the scratch of pens and the ticking of the clock. Austin sat in the back, but he wasn't studying. He was exploring the limits of his new God-Eyes.
He discovered that by focusing his mind, he could do more than just zoom. He could change the "frequency" of his vision. He looked at the textbook on his desk. With a thought, the cover became transparent. He could see the diagrams on page 50 while the book was still closed.
Then he looked at the wall. He saw through the bricks, through the insulation, and into the next classroom. He saw the students there—some sleeping, some whispering.
He even looked at Leo, sitting in front of him. He dialed the focus deeper. He saw Leo's sweater vanish, then his shirt. Then, to his horror, he saw Leo's ribcage and the thumping of his heart.
Okay, that's too far, Austin thought, quickly resetting his vision. I don't need to see my best friend's anatomy.
But the realization was staggering. In an exam hall, he could put his textbooks in his bag at the front of the room and simply "read" through the fabric. He wouldn't just pass; he would be a god.
That night, on his way home, Austin passed a barbershop. An old song, Good People, Good Dreams, was playing softly from the speakers.
He stopped and looked at his reflection in the glass. He looked like a mess—long, unkempt hair, a haunted look in his eyes. On a whim, he walked inside.
"Cut it all off," he told the barber. "Short. A buzz cut."
When he walked out twenty minutes later, he felt lighter. It was a ritual—a way to kill the old Austin and announce the arrival of someone new. A clean start, he thought. For my dad. For Chloe. And maybe even for myself.
When he got home, his father was sitting at the kitchen table, surprised by the new haircut.
"Son? You look... different," his father said, a small, rare smile touching his lips.
"I decided to take things seriously, Dad," Austin said, sitting down to open his math book. "I'm going to make it to university. I promise."
His father's eyes welled up with pride, and he immediately went to the kitchen to plan a special meal for the next day. Austin felt a pang of guilt—he knew he was mostly planning to use his "cheat eyes" to win. But as he looked at the math problems, he realized that for the first time in three years, he actually wanted to understand them.
Meanwhile, across town, Vincent was sitting in the back of a black Mercedes S600. His family's bodyguard, a scarred man named Biao, was driving.
"Someone bothered you at school, Young Master?" Biao asked, watching Vincent in the rearview mirror.
"Just a fly that needs swatting," Vincent said, his face twisted in a dark, ugly sneer. "A kid named Austin. He thinks he's a hero now. Give it a few days. I don't want it traced back to me yet. But when the time is right... I want him broken."
"Understood," Biao replied, his eyes cold. "I'll handle it."
Austin, lying in his bed miles away, didn't know about the storm gathering against him. He just closed his eyes, the golden mist of the God-Eye system swirling in the darkness, ready to change the world.