Poor Lad

"Good morning, gentlemen. You know the procedure, right?" The muscular guard greeted them with a polite nod, stepping forward to search their bodies.

This all began after a noble smuggled a rifle into the university, hidden in his clothes. After enduring relentless bullying, he snapped. In a fit of fury, he shot three students dead, each bullet landing squarely in their temples.

A noble killing fellow nobles was not rare, they actually laughed about families losing their heirs, now that they will be more vulnerable in the political situation.

But of course, the academy was having none of it, and they instantly took the kid to court, resulting in his execution and this new guideline. 

After a thorough pat-down, the guard motioned for Leor to step forward. Another guard, standing by the door with a small register in hand, offered it to him silently. Leor signed it instinctively and handed it back before stepping aside to wait for Johan.

Johan was next, and Leor couldn't help but notice his nervousness.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down in streams. Despite this, his face remained unnervingly blank, as if carved from stone, probably trying to mask something. 

Seeing him like this darkened Leor's expression.

The guard's hands moved quickly, efficiently checking Johan's tuxedo and pants. His fingers slid into every pocket with practiced ease. But when he reached Johan's waistband, his body stiffened. Without hesitation, the guard stepped back, pulling a sleek black revolver from his belt.

"Hands in the air! Both of you!" the guard barked, his voice sharp enough to make Leor's ears ring.

Before Leor could even react, the second guard, the one with the register, had his revolver trained on Leor's chest. Around them, chaos erupted. Guards on the walls above turned their semi-automatic rifles toward Johan and Leor, their barrels gleaming ominously, like ready to blow someone to shreds. From behind, the heavy sound of boots thundering against stone grew louder.

Leor sighed inwardly. 

Of course, university guards didn't care whether you were a noble or a commoner. If you were deemed a threat, they had the right to shoot first and ask questions later. 

'But aren't they being a little too aggressive?' Leor thought with some worry.

Then—

He glanced at Johan, coldness flashing in his eyes. 

Without a word, they both raised their hands and dropped to their knees.

"Drop the weapon, you with the blonde hair!" the guard shouted, gesturing at Johan with his revolver.

'Johan. Of course. First killed my wallet, Now me.'

Leor turned toward him, his gaze icy and sharp. 

Johan's expression remained unreadable, but Leor could see the panic beneath his calm mask. His fear was palpable.

Then, without so much as a word, Johan pulled something from inside his pants and tossed it onto the ground in front of him.

A butchering knife.

'He still had that damn thing on him? I should've been more careful.' Leor thought with some regret and anger.

The main guard crouched down, carefully picking up the knife with his leather gloved right hand. He turned it over in his hands, examining it with a furrowed brow.

Leor clenched his fists, trying to mask the icy dread pooling in his stomach. 

'Damn it, Johan. What were you thinking? Or... was this his plan all along, to get me arrested?' Leor's gaze darted toward Johan, suspicion gnawing at him.

Johan looked like he was on the verge of tears, his face pale, sweat dripping down his temples. His heart pounded so loudly that Leor swore he could hear it from where he knelt. 

'Yeah, definitely not a mastermind. This idiot has no clue what he's doing.'

"It's a misunderstanding, sir!" Leor blurted out, desperate to de-escalate the situation.

The guard with the revolver aimed at his chest shifted slightly, nudging the cold barrel closer to his heart. "Quiet!" he barked, though his posture relaxed ever so slightly, like Leor didn't even exist.

The main guard examining the knife straightened up, his sharp eyes darting between Johan and Leor. "Explain yourselves," he demanded, his tone firm but less aggressive. After all, it was just a knife—not a gun or something more deadly.

It was actually baffling to Leor on how seriously this is being treated. It's like they're specifically looking for troublesome or suspicious people for some reason.

Leor noticed the guard, who was drawing on Leor's chest with the sleek revolver, subtly motioned to his colleagues on the wall, and the semi-automatic rifles aimed at them lowered. 

For now, at least, the situation seemed less likely to end in a bullet.

Leor looked coldly at Johan, his gaze saying "Say something!"

Johan's mouth twitched, but he got the idea, taking a deep breath, he adopted a cold face.

"My name is Johan Von Adlerhof," Johan said, his voice steady but cold. "I came here to study at this world-renowned university. It's my first day, and I must say, excellent treatment—just as expected from the greatest university in the world." His laugh was bitter, almost manic.

'Wow, he has the talent for it.' Leor complimented Johan in his heart, he could never be this shameless. Leor shook his head with newfound respect

I chimed in, helping him solidify his new persona, "He's a Great noble from the Dunkeld Empire if you don't know what Adlerhof represents."

"But… sir, you were carrying a weapon," the guard's mouth twitched, his tone now respectful but still cautious. "Please forgive our rude behavior. We can never be too careful. It's all to make this place safer for esteemed gentlemen like you."

The main guard spoke respectfully, almost sucking up to Johan. The guard with the revolver, who had aimed it at Leor's chest just moments ago, silently withdrew it and returned to his post, as if he'd never been threatening to kill them.

Leor shook his head. 'Johan, the arrogant noble, won't work too well in front of the guards though, and they will definitely investigate Johan. It was just for the students after all. Ah, I've got a better plan.' A malicious smile crept up in his mind.

"Johan… he suffers from PTSD," Leor said quietly, glancing at him with what he hoped was concern in his eyes. 

"His parents, (you know how nobles are) used to beat him over the smallest mistakes, and it was not just a normal beating, they tortured him to satisfy their sadistic desires. They're gone now, but the trauma lingers. I'm basically his guardian, Johan's grandfather hired. I forgot to disarm him before we came here, it's all my fault. He's extremely paranoid, please, can you let this go? I promise to be more careful with him in the future."

The guard's stern expression softened, and he cast a pitying look at Johan. "Poor lad," he murmured. "Not all parents deserve children."

Every commoner hated nobles, the hatred so deep only made it easier for Leor.

This was not new to him, he had seen countless ptsd cases in his life as a soldier, but such a young lad suffering this much, even his stoicism wavered a little.

Leor nearly winced at how thickly the guard was laying it on, but Johan's clenched fists and trembling shoulders told him he was fuming.

"Come on, little brother," Leor said gently, guiding Johan by the arm as though he were fragile. "It's okay now. I'll give you your medicine after class."

They passed right through the guards, who didn't stop them. The guard with the register automatically offered it to Johan, who signed it without showing any emotion.

The guard patted Johan's shoulder as if treating him like a wounded puppy. "Be careful. There won't be any next time, lads."

'Yeah, right, madmen, Like you were not just gonna fill us with bullets..' Leor cursed him under his breath.

Johan looked at Leor coldly, mumbling something under his breath—probably threatening to kill him or something.

"You're welcome," Leor said with a bright smile, flashing his white teeth at him. A grin crept up on his face.

But—

We are definitely late for the class.