046 Trashy Trio - Part 2 - Mirai’s POV

  Karl led the way, his pace brisk and focused.

  I kept close to his six, trying not to trip over my own nerves. My mind was still stuck on the fact that we’d left Mark behind with her.

  Gwendolyn Quentin.

  The Bloody Queen of the Second Years.

  And Mark, being Mark, was probably antagonizing her as we spoke.

  I bit my lip before finally breaking the silence. "What do you think of Mark’s chances?"

  Karl barely gnced at me. "Against Rank One?"

  "Yes, Karl, against Rank One," I repeated, exasperated.

  He shrugged. "No clue."

  I nearly tripped. "What do you mean you have no clue?!"

  "Exactly what I said. No clue. I don’t know how she fights."

  I stared at him, completely fbbergasted.

  Was he serious?

  I thought I was ignorant about ESPer matters, but even I knew more than Karl did—and Mark swore up and down that Karl had a professor for a dad.

  "Wait, hold on," I grabbed his wrist, making him stop. "Calm down. And stop running in the hallway. We already look suspicious enough as it is."

  He scowled. "We're loitering during css hours, Mirai. We are suspicious."

  "Right, so let’s not make it worse by looking like we just committed a crime."

  Karl sighed, but didn’t shake off my grip.

  "Fine. But we still need to hurry."

  "I know." I released him with a nod. "Let's just… not make it obvious."

  We resumed walking, slightly more composed, but my mind still lingered on Mark.

  He better not do anything too stupid.

  Karl had finally calmed down, leading the way with a determined stride. I followed, still trying to wrap my head around everything.

  "Are you sure this is worth it?" I asked, my voice quiet.

  Karl didn’t even look at me. "Yeah."

  That wasn’t good enough.

  I reached out again, this time not just with my hand, but with my Eloquence. My ESP let me feel the emotions in his words, the conviction behind them. "Karl."

  He finally stopped and turned, his usual scowl softening just a little.

  "Is this really worth it?"

  For a moment, there was silence. Then, through my ESP, I felt it—the pain in his heart. Deep, real, genuine. Not anger, not some fleeting grudge. Something much older, something that ached.

  That was one of the reasons I had agreed to all this.

  Karl’s expression shifted, something uncharacteristically gentle passing over his face.

  "I’m going to avenge my big sister."

  I nearly tripped.

  "Wait, hold on. Your big sister?"

  That wasn’t what I expected. Who in their right mind would pick a fight with Karl’s big sister?

  "How old is she even?" I asked, dumbfounded. “And we are about to throw hands with Second Years… Ugh… What am I even thinking for agreeing to this?”

  Karl didn’t answer. Instead, he sighed, rolled his shoulders, and—without another word—started taking off his shoes.

  "Karl?"

  Then went his suit jacket.

  "Karl, what are you—"

  He cracked his neck.

  And then—

  BOOM.

  Karl kicked the door down. With fire.

  I stood there, utterly speechless, watching as Karl stormed inside.

  Then he punched a professor in the face.

  "KARL!"

  He didn’t even flinch.

  I rushed in after him, eyes wide. "You didn’t say anything about a professor being one of the people you wanted to pick a fight with!"

  Karl barely spared me a gnce. "I said the entire css."

  "YOU DIDN’T SAY IT INCLUDED THE PROFESSOR!"

  Chapter 46(Mirai’s POV, Past Tense)

  The moment Karl’s fist connected with the professor’s face, I knew we were doomed.

  The professor, a man with curly red hair, a stubbled jaw, and an even nastier scowl than Karl’s, barely flinched before punching right back. And his fist? On fire.

  Karl didn’t even hesitate. He met the fming fist head-on with his own fire, shouting—

  "DIE, YOU SHITTY DAD!"

  …What?

  Wait.

  What?

  The two’s fists cshed, and in an instant, the entire room was engulfed in a roaring explosion of fmes. The heat forced me to shield my face, and around us, students screamed as they scrambled away. Half the css retreated to the edges of the room, while the other half—braver, stupider, or just used to this sort of madness—rushed forward, trying to separate the two.

  "Karl!" I yelled over the chaos. "You didn’t tell me this was family drama!"

  "Back me up!" Karl shouted back, not even looking at me. "Keep my dad’s ckeys off me!"

  That’s when one of the students, a boy with gsses and an exasperated look, raised his voice.

  "I am NOT Professor Brandt’s ckey!"

  …Wait.

  "Did you just say Brandt? Ugh… I am still in disbelief…"

  It finally clicked. Karl Brandt. Professor Brandt.

  Oh.

  OH.

  This was his dad?!

  This family drama was off the charts.

  And here I thought Mark’s family was unique.

  Okay. I think my brain just short-circuited.

  First came denial.

  Then acceptance.

  And then back to denial.

  "Restrain her!" shouted the gsses-wearing senior as Karl and his father exchanged fming punches like some kind of dysfunctional fireworks dispy.

  I gritted my teeth, dodging the senior’s grab—only to immediately trip on my own feet and sm face-first onto the floor.

  "Ow—!"

  Before I could get up, a girl tackled me down, pressing me against the ground.

  Above me, Professor Brandt—Karl’s dad—actually paused mid-fight to gnce my way.

  "Cute girlfriend," he remarked, tone casual as if he wasn’t currently fighting his own son. "You sure you want to show that nasty temper of yours?"

  Karl, predictably, reacted with all the grace of an enraged bull.

  "DIE!"

  Professor Brandt dodged Karl’s fming fists and actual fireballs with an ease that was honestly insulting. He moved through the room like a breeze, dancing around his students, using them as shields while his son burned through the air like a human torch.

  "Shit, god, Prof’s gone crazy!" one of the second-years yelped.

  "Don’t use us as human shields, you old bastard!" another added.

  Karl, meanwhile, was literally flying, using his fmes to propel himself midair like a crazed phoenix. His offense was manic, wild, overwhelming—sending the second-years into a hasty retreat.

  And yet, his father looked…

  Bored.

  Like he was just taking it easy.

  In fact, he actually took the time to step back from the chaos and introduce himself to me.

  "Hello," he said, smiling as if he wasn’t actively dodging his son’s murder attempts. "The name’s Carl Brandt. Carl with a C."

  I took a deep breath and tried my best to keep my voice steady.

  "I hope we could’ve met under better circumstances, Mr. Brandt," I said. "I thought we’d be picking a fight with fellow ESPer prospects, not, uh… causing trouble for you."

  Carl dodged a spear of fmes that Karl hurled at him, caught it with one hand, and threw it right back.

  Right into Karl’s gut.

  With a sickening crunch, Karl was impaled to the ground.

  "FUUUCK!" he howled, writhing.

  I stared, stunned.

  Was that even allowed?

  How was that even possible?

  Carl, completely unfazed, turned back to me and asked in a polite tone, "Are you aware of the consequences of fighting fellow students?"

  Honestly? No. Not really.

  I had… not looked into how these things were handled.

  Greg had pulled something simir when he fought John, and he was still here, so that meant we’d be fine… right?

  I blinked, piecing my thoughts together. "I mean, this is just the equivalent of a schoolyard brawl in the backyard, right?"

  Carl stared at me.

  Then he facepalmed.

  The gsses-wearing senior sighed and actually took the time to expin.

  "Unauthorized fights between year levels are prohibited," he said. "This could get you a serious demerit."

  Oh.

  Yeah, I did know about that part.

  I crossed my arms. "I don’t really care about demerits this early in my academic career. What’s more important is getting Karl’s participation."

  Carl raised an eyebrow. "Participation?"

  I nodded. "I have to cater to Karl’s request if I want him to py ball with the team-building activities."

  At that, Carl snapped his fingers.

  "Ah," he said, as if something had just clicked in his head. "So there is team function in the first years. I understand my son isn’t exactly a team pyer, so I appreciate you trying to put him on the straight and narrow path."

  Meanwhile, Karl was still filing on the ground, desperately trying to pull the spear of fmes out of his torso.

  "You fucking bastard!" he roared, still trying to rip the spear of fmes out of his gut. "You didn’t even show up to Sis’ birthday—"

  He growled, his entire body trembling with rage. "And those bastards who ruined her? They’re still fucking breathing."

  His breath hitched. His voice turned raw, bitter.

  "You lied to me."

  Carl Brandt remained silent.

  "You told me they were done for—" Karl’s fmes fred, heat distorting the air around him. "That they were punished for what they did!" His eyes burned with something deeper than anger. Something sharp. Wounded. "Fucking piece of shit!"

  I felt my lips twitch.

  Karl wasn’t just mad. He was seething.

  "You let them walk away like nothing happened. You let them live their lives while my sister—"

  Karl gritted his teeth, his breath heavy.

  "She’s crippled because of you!"

  The atmosphere shifted.

  The second-years—who had up until now been treating this as some insane cssroom brawl—went quiet. The gsses-wearing senior hesitated before speaking up.

  "Karl, that’s not—"

  But Professor Carl Brandt simply raised a hand.

  The senior shut up immediately.

  Carl’s usual zy, amused expression had faded, repced with something… harsher.

  "You’re being immature." His voice was calm. Cold. "It’s been ten years since that happened."

  For a moment, Karl didn’t react.

  Then his fmes fred.

  "Bullshit."

  With an explosion of heat, Karl ignited the fiery spear impaling him—bsting it apart with his own fmes.

  He staggered forward, shoulders heaving, body drenched in sweat, looking both exhausted and murderous.

  "Heartless bastard."

  Karl’s fmes still crackled in the air, but his breathing was heavy. Even so, he gred at his father, the raw hatred in his eyes refusing to fade.

  Carl, in contrast, looked completely unimpressed.

  "If I’m so heartless, then why is your sister still alive?" he said ftly.

  I froze.

  Karl did not.

  "Oh, fuck you." He spat onto the floor, embers flickering from his lips. "Yeah, because that’s the only reason you give a shit, huh? The academy?" His voice dripped with venom. "Your cripple of a daughter who lost her ESP? She’s a disgrace, right? That’s what you think, isn’t it?"

  Carl’s expression remained unreadable.

  Karl’s voice broke.

  "She would’ve died if she kept using her power. And you—" His fists trembled at his sides. "You couldn’t let her stop. You just had to push her past her limit—"

  Karl sucked in a sharp breath.

  "Now what? She’s a fucking vegetable—" His fingers dug into his palms, nails biting into his skin. "And you couldn’t even bother to visit her on her birthday—"

  Karl took a step forward, fmes licking at his heels.

  "And then I find out—" His voice turned hoarse, almost desperate. "The people who did this to her? The ones who ruined her? They’re doing fine—" His head snapped up, eyes burning. "Despite the incident."

  Silence.

  Even the second-years who had been watching from the sidelines weren’t saying a word.

  And then, the gsses-wearing guy decided to speak up again.

  "That’s no way to talk to a tenured professor—or your father—"

  Karl’s response was immediate.

  "Oh, fuck off, four-eyes."

  The senior visibly flinched.

  "Four-eyes?" he repeated, sounding genuinely offended.

  For some reason, that was the moment I realized that this whole fight was completely, absolutely, spiraling out of control in a direction I never imagined possible.

  The tension in the room was unbearable. Karl stood rigid, fmes still smoldering at his feet. His father, Carl Brandt, remained composed, but his sharp eyes betrayed something I couldn't quite name—exasperation? Frustration? Or something deeper?

  Then Carl spoke.

  "Css dismissed."

  No one moved.

  The second-years hesitated, exchanging uneasy gnces. Some of them looked to the gsses-wearing senior for guidance, others to their professor, as if silently asking if he really meant it.

  Carl sighed, then repeated, "Css. Dismissed."

  This time, there was no room for argument. His voice had dropped into something cold, final—an order, not a suggestion.

  The grip on my arms loosened, and I was finally let go.

  One by one, the students began to file out. Some left reluctantly, gncing back at Karl and Carl like they were leaving behind a ticking time bomb. Others practically sprinted for the door, clearly eager to escape the family drama before it got any worse.

  I turned on my heel, ready to follow them.

  "You stay."

  I stopped.

  Carl Brandt’s gaze was on me.

  I swallowed.