Blackstone Code-Chapter 418: Asking for Directions

Five minutes before Lynch arrived at the school, a serious discussion was underway in the meeting room.

The student council president was firmly negotiating with the school board. Her face was cold and stern, while the dean of academic affairs wore a faint, somewhat submissive smile. The principal and vice principal pretended not to hear.

In the Baylor Federation and worldwide, prestigious universities were dominated by powerful school boards. Especially in the monarchist nation of Gephra, student power was suppressed to the extreme. Some royal-affiliated schools even adopted semi-military management: attend if you want, leave if you don’t.

Students dared not openly challenge or even question school authorities.

But now, the atmosphere in the room was unusual and contrary to expectations.

“I reviewed this year’s enrollment plan. Nearly ten percent are recommended students—more than any previous year. What you’re doing is ruining our school environment!” the student council president, a girl with golden brown hair and flawless fair skin, slammed the table hard.

The dean of academic affairs forced a bitter smile, while the principal and vice principal remained silent.

Wiping sweat from his brow, the dean spoke quietly, “Listen, Anna…”

“This isn’t as simple as you think. We don’t want so many recommended students either, but last year’s situation—you know the financial crisis, economic collapse, and the rising opportunities—people who were previously uninterested have now become interested.”

“We all know that when social order collapses, opportunities arise.”

This phrase, popularized by a well-known sociologist, reflected a harsh truth: when order breaks down, the focus of society shifts, creating chances for the bold and opportunistic.

The Federation was no exception. Speculators appeared frequently, and recent domestic and international changes made future trends clearer.

That’s why it became necessary to send younger family members to a Saint Harmony university for prestige.

These schools and their members were practically a universal pass in high society circles.

Because the social elite were almost entirely made up of these people, having such status could drastically change outcomes.

As a result, many students who wouldn’t normally qualify through standard procedures, and never intended to attend a Saint Harmony university, were admitted via recommendation letters and connections.

Federation universities didn’t use straightforward exams but relied on interviews.

A recommendation letter from someone influential could get even a useless candidate admitted, provided they could pay tuition.

The interview system seemed designed to open a fast track for those who took shortcuts, allowing questionable candidates to become students.

For example, two years ago, a tycoon’s son was admitted to a prestigious university because he loved doing housework and had a healthy, sunny attitude, despite barely passing art, which was only accepted because his graduation piece was deemed postmodern abstract art. ꭆáΝỔβĚȘ

Such cases sparked controversy.

Now Saint Secheka Academy faced a similar problem: many recommended students entered through interviews, risking a rapid decline in school standards.

These students clearly came from privileged backgrounds but were not true family elites, and would likely disrupt the school’s atmosphere.

As student council president, Anna couldn’t stand by. To her, this school belonged not only to the administration but also to the students.

The dean’s cautious explanation calmed her somewhat. She knew anger wouldn’t change anything, but she had to show the student council’s stance and prevent disorder.

The Federation had more than one Saint Harmony university—they could always be redirected elsewhere.

The room fell silent. Anna finally relented, “We can’t change past admissions, but going forward, I don’t want any more recommended students. It’s for the sake of the school and the students!”

The principal, vice principal, and other administrators continued to feign deafness, but the dean nodded and wiped his sweat, “Yes, I will find a way to refuse them.”

The administration clearly feared Anna, or at least didn’t want to offend her—typical of Saint Harmony universities.

The student council wielded immense power, sometimes enough to change school leadership.

Students admitted here, aside from recommended ones, were either outstanding scholars with potential to change fields or children of Saint Harmony members.

The council had a vast social network and could organize events and approve research funding without school interference.

Many parents poured money into the school to secure their children’s futures.

The council itself was an elite group; each member came from influential families—scholars, capitalists, or politicians—with resources, power, and execution ability.

Even the school board couldn’t handle them, making student council power sometimes surpass that of the administration.

As the parties reached a compromise, the atmosphere softened. Anna achieved her goal and began to apologize.

She came from an exceptional family and knew how to navigate the world.

After asserting her power, she lowered her stance and made conciliatory remarks to maintain appearances.

At that moment, Lynch entered the school gates.

He no longer went unnoticed—newspapers called him a young leader. Despite the reporter’s gratitude, the media portrayed him that way.

After politely declining two girls who offered to guide him, Lynch found the administration building himself—it was straight ahead past the main gate.

After registering at the guard post, he stepped into a place desired by ninety-five percent of the Federation’s high school students.

The polished marble floor was spotless, with metal inlays filling the gaps between the tiles. Meticulously maintained, walking here felt like being inside a grand palace or hall.

The bright and spacious architectural style gave the building a transparent, open feel, stirring a unique sense in anyone who entered.

The school’s architect was internationally renowned—he even designed the presidential palace.

The place was impressive, but it was hard to find anyone.

Lynch checked several offices, but no one responded. Whether it was because of summer break or some other reason, the administration seemed absent.

He regretted not accepting the two girls’ earlier offer to guide him. While wandering, he caught faint voices around a corner.

The doorplate indicated it was a meeting room. The deep red door with gold trim was slightly ajar, probably because no one expected anyone upstairs during the break.

If he were an ordinary student, he would have waited quietly until whoever was inside finished, then explained he’d been waiting to show sincerity.

But Lynch wasn’t an ordinary student, so he knocked directly on the door.

It might have been impolite, but he didn’t want to waste time—who knew how long he’d have to wait?

After several seconds, a woman who looked like a teacher opened the door halfway. She studied Lynch, not immediately recognizing him.

To most teachers, students all looked the same unless they had made a strong impression.

She gave Lynch a quick once-over and softly asked, “What do you need?”

As she examined him, Lynch returned the glance and replied, “I want to ask where the recommended admission interviews are held.”