Chapter 4: The King's Of Elyon Hill's Academy.

The Backyard Confrontation.

 Peter took a few slow steps back, his breath uneven as he gently exhaled. His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted himself, tucking his shirt back into place before zipping up his trousers. The air between them was thick with tension, heavy like the silence before a storm. He turned to leave, his shoes scuffing against the floor, but before he could take another step, Nelly's voice cut through the quiet like a knife.

 "Peter… wait."

 Her words were shaky, barely above a whisper, but they stopped him dead in his tracks. He didn't turn around—not yet. Behind him, Nelly's tears fell freely, streaming down her cheeks like rain. She wiped at them furiously, her fingers trembling as she tried to pull her disheveled clothes back into place.

 "C-Can't you take a joke?" she choked out, her voice breaking. "You… you seriously wanted to rape me?"

 The accusation hung in the air, sharp and accusing. Peter's shoulders tensed, but he still didn't face her.

 Nelly swallowed hard, her throat tight. "I swear… once I leave here, I'm reporting you to the school. You'll get punished for this."

 That finally made him turn.

 Slowly, almost lazily, Peter pivoted on his heel, his expression unreadable. His eyes locked onto hers—cold, calculating. Then, step by deliberate step, he closed the distance between them. Nelly flinched as he approached, her breath hitching when he stopped just inches away.

 A slow, humorless smile curled at the corner of his lips.

 "Me?" Peter said, his voice low and dripping with something dangerous. "Peter Chris. One of the kings of this school. And you think you can report me… to my own subjects?"

 Nelly's brows furrowed in confusion. "W-What are you talking about?"

 Peter tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "No one told you about this place, did they?" He let out a dry chuckle. "Or maybe you were too distracted by the fancy buildings, the polished hallways, the 'prestigious' reputation." His smile turned mocking. "But you never stopped to ask what really goes on here."

 Nelly's heart pounded. She wiped her tears again, her curiosity battling with her fear. "I don't understand. Schools are just… schools. We go to learn. What's so different about this one?"

 Peter closed the last bit of space between them, his hands coming up to grip her shoulders. His touch was firm, almost possessive. "Then tell me, Nelly… what do we really do here?"

 She swallowed. "W-We… we learn."

 Peter nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Yes. But not just that." He released her and turned away, his voice dropping to something almost reverent. "By day, we study. But when the sun sets… we rule."

 Nelly's breath caught. "Rule? How?"

 Peter glanced back at her over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. "We fight. Every evening—sometimes even at night—we battle to see who's strong enough to lead. Who's fast enough. Who's smart enough. And at the end of it all… the winners are crowned kings."

 Nelly shook her head, still not fully grasping it. "Kings? But a kingdom only has one king."

 Peter laughed, the sound dark and amused. "Not here. Elyon Hill's Academy has three." He held up three fingers, counting them off. "First—the God of War. Strongest in the school. Undefeated. Then there's Creed. Ruthless, with a legion of followers. And finally… the Ruler." His smirk widened. "Smart. Charismatic. His army? Mostly women."

 Nelly's mind raced. "Okay, I get the 'God of War' title. But… Creed? Ruler? What do those even mean?"

 Peter waved a dismissive hand. "That's enough for today, Nelly." He turned fully away, his tone final. "You don't need to know everything. Just go to class."

 Peter turned around, ready to leave through the backyard gate, when suddenly, he felt a gentle hand grab his. The touch was soft but firm, stopping him in his tracks. He paused, took a deep breath, and slowly turned back to face Nelly.

 Her eyes were pleading, filled with a mix of desperation and curiosity.

 "Nelly, please… Peter, please," she begged, her voice trembling. "I want to hear more. I need to know more."

 Peter's expression hardened. Without a word, he gently but firmly pulled her hands away from his. His face was serious, his jaw tight with tension.

 "That's enough," he said, his voice low and controlled. "We've talked enough for this week. If you really want to know more, then ask around. But be careful who you ask." He paused, his eyes locking onto hers with a warning. "If you ask the wrong person… you might end up in trouble. So be careful."

 With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Nelly standing alone in the backyard.

 She watched him go, her mind racing.

 "I don't understand him at all," she thought, frustration bubbling inside her. "Just a few minutes ago, he almost… he almost forced himself on me. Then he lectures me like I'm the one who did something wrong. And now he tells me to be careful? And I still don't even know why he stopped when I told him I was a virgin!"

 She let out a heavy sigh, running her fingers through her hair.

 "Gosh…"

 After a long moment of battling with her thoughts, she finally turned and left the backyard, her heart still pounding with confusion and anger.

 The Classroom Tension

 Meanwhile, Peter entered the SS1 classroom and immediately took his seat in the front row. His best friend, Josiah, who sat right behind him, reached forward and grabbed his shoulder.

 Josiah grinned, his voice playful but curious.

 "So, brother… how did it go? Who asked who out? And did either of you say yes?"

 Peter exhaled sharply, as if carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders. Without a word, he removed Josiah's hand from his shoulder and simply looked at him before sighing deeply.

 Josiah's smile faded instantly. His expression darkened, his eyes narrowing with concern.

 "Brother…" he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell me you didn't do what I think you did."

 His fists clenched tightly, knuckles turning white.

 "Come on, man, we've talked about this! Don't let your urges control you. Just tell me… did you do it?"

 Peter shook his head slowly.

 "No, brother. I didn't. I almost did… but I stopped."

 Josiah's eyes widened in shock.

 "Wait… what? How—"

 Before he could finish, the sound of approaching footsteps cut him off.

 A sharp SLAP! echoed through the classroom as Miss Tina, their teacher, struck both Josiah and Peter across the back of their heads.

 "Do you two have no manners at all?" she snapped, her voice sharp with irritation. "Am I the one teaching here, or do you two want to take over?"

 Josiah immediately shook his head wildly, his hands raised in surrender.

 "No, no, no, Miss Tina! I'm not the teaching type, I swear! We're sorry—please, continue!"

 Miss Tina smirked, amused by his frantic reaction. Then she turned her attention to Peter, her eyes narrowing.

 "And you, Peter? What do you have to say for yourself?"

 Silence.

 Peter didn't answer. His face was a storm of emotions—anger, frustration, and something darker simmering beneath the surface. He simply shook his head.

 Miss Tina's patience wore thin. She marched down to his desk, standing right in front of him.

 "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Peter!" Her expression darkened, her voice turning icy.

 But Peter was angrier than she was. Once again, he shook his head, refusing to speak.

 Miss Tina's face twisted with fury. She raised her hand, ready to slap him—

 "Miss Tina!"

 A deep, authoritative voice cut through the tension.

 Principal Mr. Charles stood in the doorway, his expression stern.

 "Please don't do that," he said calmly. "If there's a problem, report it. Don't take matters into your own hands."

 Without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down the hallway.

 Miss Tina, still fuming, hurried after him.

 "Mr. Charles! Sir, please—wait!" she called out, panting from the quick chase.

 He stopped and turned back to her, sighing heavily.

 "Miss Tina, what is it now?"

 She caught her breath, then spoke in a rush.

 "Sir, did you see how he acted just now? Right before I was about to slap him?"

 Mr. Charles shook his head.

 "It doesn't matter, Tina. Just don't slap him. If he causes trouble, send him to me. That's all." He paused, giving her a pointed look. "And remember—you're still a new teacher. Ask questions first before you do something… stupid. Like you were about to just now."

 With that, he turned and walked away, waving dismissively.

 Miss Tina stood there, her face burning with humiliation.

 In her mind, a dangerous thought formed.

 "Stupid? I'll show you stupid. We'll see what's so special about him."

 To be continued…