CHAPTER 137: YOU’RE A MISTAKE, SO JUST OBEY.

"I gave you a task to perform, and you don’t have the right to refuse," Sylas said.

Aris was no fool. After knowing Aramith’s strength now, how could he..."I can’t!"

In a swift motion, Sylas was before Aris, gripping him by the jaw. After his humiliation in front of all the students, nothing angered him more than seeing the faces of Aramith or Aris.

"I said, you don’t have the right to refuse. Unless you want me to reveal everything?" He spat.

Aris’s eyes quivered, and that made Sylas smile.

He was in control, and that excited him.

"You know you’re in no place to negotiate. You should be begging instead."

Sylas drove Aris’s face into the dirt. Laughter erupted around him.

"Only seven of us know, but if you try to rebel, I’ll make sure everyone finds out."

Aris wanted to speak, but his throat wouldn’t work.

Fear.

"It’s because of you that your mother couldn’t earn any more money."

Shut up!

"I feel disgusted even from touching you, bastard boy."

Aris forced again, but sound wouldn’t come out.

Aris didn’t know how Sylas found out, but the truth silenced him more than any muzzle ever could.

His mother ran away from home at a young age and became a prostitute. She sold her body at night to earn money just to survive.

And when one day, A rich man bought her for the night, she was excited and planned to get pregnant with his baby.

She thought of using that child as a way to get more money from the man. Some other prostitutes had done that before, but luck wasn’t on her side.

Instead of gaining from this man, she was beaten and thrown away. It was a miracle she even survived such brutality.

Her face was marred, and without that, she found it difficult to get customers.

Since then, she took odd jobs to get money, eventually turning back to that same rich man to let her son work as a servant so he could earn some money. It was pitiful, but she had no other choice.

Aris understood everything and worked hard there, though frequently abused. Whether it was the trauma or fear that did it, he’d forgotten what that household had done to him, only looking for earning.

And when he one day heard of an academy where anyone could be accepted, he did his best to get there.

He wasn’t aiming to be a prodigy. He only planned to get close to someone with a powerful background, so he could leech from the person.

That was how he joined Sylas’s group.

And that was the same reason why he forced himself on Aramith.

But now, Sylas knew his dark past and threatened to reveal it to the whole Academy.

As for Sylas’s request...

"All you need to do is find something I can use against that Aramith, and you’ll be off my list."

Everyone had a dark past or something that could be used against them. Aris had to find out about Aramith and use it against him. That was all Sylas needed.

Revenge.

Karma.

You humiliated me and took so much from me, so I’ll pay you back.

"You’re a mistake, so just obey," Sylas now stepped on the back of Aris’s head.

He knew his place, but.

"I can’t—"

"Hold him," Sylas ordered.

Boots slammed into Aris’s back, forcing him down. Two boys pinned his arms, and another gagged him with a rag.

A final boy approached him with a sharp blade.

The blade pressed cold against his scalp.

Then came the scrape. It was harsh, tearing cruelly against his head.

Tufts of hair fell, scattered across the dirt. Laughter rose with each strip peeled from him.

The boy wielding the blade was careless and cruel.

It was intentional.

The cold metal took bits of his skin. Hot pain flared, and thin trails of blood trickled down his temple.

Aris’s breath came in ragged bursts through the gag. He wanted to scream, to curse, to fight, but all he could do was listen. Listen as their laughter drowned out the sound of his dignity being torn away.

By the time the last tuft dropped, his head was raw, stinging, his scalp marred with crooked cuts. They would scar.

Sylas admired his work. "You’re now looking more like your true self. Everyone who looks at you will clearly see a bastard." He grinned mockingly before shoving his face into the dirt again, then kicking him in the chest.

Aris didn’t resist anymore. Silent tears soaked the ground beneath him.

Sylas’s boys held Aris down, their laughter echoing in his ears. His scalp burned where hair had been torn away, his breath ragged from the blows to his ribs.

Sylas crouched, shadow falling across Aris’s face. "Poor little Aris. Can’t even scream, can you? Your silence makes you the perfect toy. And all this is your own doing. You decided to go against me." He pinched Aris’s chin and forced his gaze upward.

Then his voice dropped, smooth and poisonous. "Remember how your mother got crippled. She took on more men than she could."

The words sliced through him. Aris’s chest tightened; a memory crashed into him. His mother—her lips split, her trembling hands clutching his cheek.

"Don’t worry, Aris. It’s nothing to worry about. Mama will be fine," He had wanted to believe her smile, but all he saw now was blood, the way her body had never healed.

"She couldn’t fight them off," Sylas went on, savoring every syllable. "Couldn’t keep her pride. She was just another broken whore who thought she mattered. I heard she was an ugly slut."

Aris’s stomach churned. His nails dug into the floor, desperate to hold himself together.

Sylas leaned closer, a grin tugging at his mouth.

"That’s the beauty of filth like you. Even your secrets aren’t worth keeping. They’re weapons. And I hold them." His palm tapped Aris’s cheek almost kindly—before slamming his face into the dirt again.

Laughter roared from the others.

It was hard to believe these boys were still teenagers.

Aris struggled, but nothing changed. He was to be bullied. He remembered his mother’s words.

I’m sorry I’m your mother. You will have problems because of my terrible decisions, she cried.

That’s the benefit of being a bastard, he thought.

He finally gave up, crying silently as his head was left bare.

Sylas squatted before him. "Now, remember that you’ll be in a lot more trouble if you breathe a word about me being involved in your decision to shave your hair." He paused for a moment, appreciating the good work before him.

"And I also heard you were keeping your distance from my target. Do that again, and you’ll regret it."

He kicked Aris away.

And with his bleeding scalp and heavy heart, Aris left.

Aris staggered to his room, glad he didn’t meet anyone else on the way.

The room was silent save for his ragged breathing. His scalp throbbed, his ribs ached, yet it was the words that broke him. The reminder of where he came from.

He lay down, forcing his lips into a smile as Aramith glanced his way.

The boy’s violet eyes lingered on the streaks of blood near his temple, his mouth parting as if to speak. But he said nothing. He could easily guess what had happened, but it wasn’t his fight...yet.

Aris turned away quickly, pretending not to notice. He pulled the blanket over his face, practising the smile he would have to force on the next day. Only the pillow beneath him knew the truth of his silent tears.

I’m sorry. But he didn’t know who he was apologizing to.