The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 199: Malicious Glances

At that moment, the man standing before him took on an air of exaggerated gravity. Ethan Caldwell stroked his chin in a pantomime of deep, serious thought, a playful glint dancing in the depths of his dark eyes as he watched Julian’s anxious expression: "In that case, perhaps I should drive that orange sports car? It’s a BMW, surely a brand like that isn’t too conspicuous?"

"Be quiet, Ethan Caldwell!"

Julian Sterling’s face flushed a deep, vibrant crimson, his voice rising in a sharp, mock-indignant rebuke directed at the towering man before him. Far from being offended by the outburst, Ethan Caldwell responded with a low, resonant chuckle that seemed to vibrate deep within his chest, the sound rich with genuine amusement. The two of them continued their lighthearted bickering as they traversed the expansive, sprawling garage, their footsteps echoing against the polished concrete as they prepared to depart for Julian’s university.

Saint Lawrence University was situated in the heart of the city’s bustling central district. While it wasn’t exactly in the opposite direction of the Caldwell Empire’s headquarters, the sheer distance between the two locations meant the commute was far from brief. On this particular morning, Julian’s schedule was relatively forgiving, with his first lecture not commencing until the second period. Despite the comfortable timeframe, he had insisted on arriving several hours early, wanting to finalize the lingering administrative paperwork and ensure every detail of his enrollment was settled without haste.

The first day of classes in this new, prestigious environment lacked any grand, cinematic flair. It was, at its core, the familiar routine of student life: navigating lecture halls, listening to professors drone on from their podiums, scribbling hurried notes into journals, and eventually packing one’s backpack to head home. However, from the very moment his first session began, Julian was haunted by a peculiar, unsettling sensation. It was a cold prickle at the base of his neck, a malicious, scrutinizing gaze that seemed to bore into his back with unrelenting intensity. Because Julian had been assigned a seat in the second row, with ten rows of students and dozens of peers behind him, he found it impossible to turn around and pinpoint the exact source of this ill-intentioned observation without being blatantly obvious.

Suddenly, the student seated directly beside him nudged Julian’s elbow with a sharp, conspiratorial flick. A voice, lowered to a hushed whisper, drifted into his ear: "Hey, have you noticed the guy sitting at the very last table in the right-hand row?"

Due to the requirements of the course, which demanded collaborative group work for assignments, Julian had already spent the morning chatting with this particular classmate. His name was Kian Foster, a student one year his senior. Kian was the quintessential social butterfly, extremely extroverted, perpetually active, and possessed of a natural talent for striking up conversations with anyone in his vicinity.

Spurred by Kian’s observation, Julian allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. He cast a discreet, sideways glance toward the dim corner at the back of the hall before whispering back: "Are you referring to the person dressed like a flamboyant, neon-colored chameleon?"

"Pfft..." Kian Foster couldn’t suppress a sudden, muffled burst of laughter. He clamped a hand over his mouth, his eyes crinkling with mirth as he replied in a suppressed tone: "That’s exactly the one. I’ve been watching him for a while now, he hasn’t stopped glaring at you. It’s like he’s trying to burn a hole through your head with his eyes."

Julian’s eyebrows arched slightly at the confirmation. He finally understood the origin of that icy, skin-crawling sensation he had been feeling. Yet, a sense of confusion remained, he had no memory of this stranger, nor did he understand why someone he had never met would harbor such blatant animosity toward him. Julian stole one more quick look at the individual before glancing down at his own attire to see if he had somehow committed a social faux pas.

He was wearing a simple, crisp white cotton T-shirt paired with dark-colored denim jeans, a style so minimalist and understated that it was almost entirely unremarkable.

If anyone were to accuse Julian Sterling of trying to steal the spotlight with an extravagant wardrobe, they would be profoundly mistaken. In stark contrast to Julian’s ordinary, everyday appearance, the person at the back of the room was a walking cacophony of fashion choices. His clothing featured a chaotic, splattered pattern that resembled a painter’s palette that had been violently overturned, incorporating every imaginable color of the rainbow in a disorienting swirl.

And that was to say nothing of the accessories. Draped around the man’s neck was a heavy, solid gold chain so thick it looked more suited for a large canine than a human being. Hanging from this chain was a massive, garish pendant encrusted with a stone the size of a pigeon’s egg. It was impossible to tell if it was a genuine, albeit poorly cut, gemstone or merely a piece of high-priced, gaudy glass, but the design was undeniably clumsy and pretentious.

In the world of the Academy of Fine Arts, students were typically known for their distinct, stylish, and often avant-garde fashion senses. Compared to the general population, Julian’s look might have been considered a bit plain or even lackluster, but the man in the corner was something else entirely, a disastrous, failed version of a "creative" aesthetic. While the outfit was certainly eye-catching, it achieved its prominence by being a literal assault on the visual senses, a grave violation of any objective standard of refined beauty.

As Julian sat there, silently cross-referencing his mental database of the original Julian’s acquaintances and the enemies of Aaron Sterling to see if this "chameleon" was a ghost from the past, Kian Foster nudged his shoulder once more, clearly eager to share more gossip about the strange figure looming in the back.

"What’s wrong?" Julian Sterling asked, his voice low as he leaned slightly toward his new acquaintance.

"Try turning around and taking one more look at him." Kian Foster urged, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.