How To Survive A Calamity-Chapter 260: Vice-Headmaster [1]

It didn't take me long to finish with the guys from Class C — two or three minutes, give or take. After my initial display of making quick work of the biggest guy among their ranks, the remaining nine were so deadpanned with shock that before they could get their heads back in place, it was already over.

"Fuuu..." After tossing the last of them over the pile of bodies I'd built up, I exhaled a sigh, clapping my palms together to get rid of the dust.

I couldn't help it; there was a small smile on my lips. I hadn't been ganged up on in an alley like this in a while. Plus, the ten idiots helped as a medium of stress relief.

And God knew I desperately needed that right now.

"Now then..."

With that out of the way, my mind felt lighter and I could think more clearly. Without glancing backward at the pile of idiots, I decided it was time I took care of something I'd been pushing off all day...

***

"Gulp..."

In a few minutes, I found my way to the Administration block of the Academy, and I was now standing right outside what was perhaps the most intimidating door ever.

It wasn't so much that the door itself was pressuring, but the idea of the person who sat behind it on the other side of the room.

A golden nameplate with illustrative and elegantly carved letters stared back at me: Arslan D. Blank.

How long had I been staring at that same nameplate now? I had already been standing right outside that door for what seemed to me like a passing eternity.

I believe I lost track of time after ten minutes, give or take. Everything after that was filled with my paranoia running countless devastating scenarios and "what ifs" inside my head.

Eventually, I started to feel hot and sweaty inside my uniform and pulled at my tie like a ram getting dragged off to the slaughterhouse. "Dammit, ten brain-dead idiots aren't enough to blow off this much stress."

"Uhm. You've been standing there for a while now, young man. Is there a problem? You're sweaty — are you constipated?" the voice of a lady said next to me in the empty passage.

She was the receptionist at the desk outside who had already given me the go-ahead a while ago.

Paying little attention to her words, I groaned like I had a bad stomach. "No..."

"Then you can go in. Why haven't you gone in? People are complaining your face scares them," she urged.

I glanced at the young woman. The fleeting thought that this receptionist was a bit too forward for my liking crossed my mind for the briefest of seconds, but too occupied by more overwhelming matters, I decided to just ignore her.

But she was right. I did have to go in at some point.

"Ah, fuck it..." As if to throw it all into the wind, I took a step forward and reached for the door handle. If I continued agonizing outside like that, I really might get constipated.

"E-excuse me..." I squeezed the words out of my dry throat as I inched inside, high on alert as if expecting an ambush the moment I stepped in.

But nothing of the sort happened.

The door pushed open, and I walked in right behind it. A vast, well-furnished and spacious office spread before my view. It had old-school aesthetics, mostly furnished with some type of quality mahogany that, in both my lives, I could never recognize.

Tall bookshelves lined one wall, and an exclusive minibar was set up on the other. There were wide windows, a small crystal chandelier, and a fine three-seater leather sofa with one-seater couches neatly arranged.

A wide desk sat atop a rich burgundy-colored rug with unraveling patterns like a mandala. And seated right behind the desk, his face beautifully immersed in paperwork, was the Vice Headmaster of Aegis.

His silky orange-red hair fell loosely along the sides of his ears and neck, framing an elegant face.

Arslan's deep orange-red eyes didn't even lift to look at me after I entered. He just continued to scribble away with his quill pen on his documents without a change in his expression.

And it continued like that, I'd define, for more than six minutes.

While I just stood there awkwardly at the door, listening to the sound of pen scratching paper.

— Scribble, scribble.

"..."

"..."

With each silent second that passed, I felt more uncomfortable, shifting on my feet. My stomach twisted and churned as I let the pressure begin to get to me, and it felt like I could throw up.

Put in such an uncomfortable position like this, I defaulted to doing what I had recently begun doing best; I spiraled mentally.

Multiple thoughts and questions raced through my mind in a whirlwind as I desperately sought meaning and intentions behind Arslan's actions from yesterday and even now.

I started questioning if I had made a mistake coming here after all. Maybe I could have just pretended the night before never happened... Or I could have taken my time to carefully weigh my options and chances of taking Arslan on somehow.

But deep down, don't ask me why, I knew that was impossible.

Realizing my thoughts were only going to continue going in circles, I decided to say something... anything.

"Uhm..."

"Sit," Arslan said calmly, finally.

While I struggled to utter coherent words, Arslan's voice resounded quietly, causing me to forcefully restrain myself from twitching.

Following his order like it was the most normal thing in the world, I stepped forward and slowly took a seat right in front of him. All this time, the red-haired man's eyes still never glanced at me.

— Scribble, scribble...

Sitting this close to him, the sound of the scribbling pen on paper was much closer, making me feel even more uncomfortable. The silence suddenly felt twice as deafening as I found myself reflexively holding my breath.

After taking my seat like Arslan commanded, that signaled the second stage of a long stretch of silence.

Until finally, he slowly set the pen down, and Arslan raised his head to speak to me.