Although defying the ruling authority within the established system was clearly a declared crime...
for the Academy's General Administration, that meant absolutely nothing.
They weren't directly rebelling against power—
rather, they gave the young cubs of the future a choice:
to define for themselves what true loyalty really meant.
On the other side, in Milosh's test chamber, his new body was only good for one thing—enduring pain.
But after ten hours of endless boredom, he could do nothing but stand and curse this world.
"I'm the loyal protagonist… who are you?"
.
Frankly, the picture didn't answer.
In his opinion… nothing happening here held any meaning.
He was simply sitting here, sipping on regret and back pain in advance.
"They need me… not the other way around."
When he finally stood up and realized he was already out of the race,
right before leaving and officially surrendering,
he decided to check the mysterious box that never appeared in the plot.
When he found the lighter resting inside,
he didn't understand at first…
and after some serious thinking, he still didn't understand.
So, he took the simpler route—
he burned it, and didn't think too much about it.
After all, it was just a picture.
Nothing more.
Yes… that sounded about right.
Either way, he figured he was already out of the competition,
and maybe he could make up for it later.
In truth, he didn't expect to make up for anything—
but at least, he wouldn't drown in shame afterward.
But contrary to what he thought…
things didn't go as he expected at all.
When the two guards saw the picture burning in flames—
and Milosh's smiling face as he walked out—
they looked into each other's eyes.
He was thinking to himself,
"So… losing feels this good?"
He actually felt relieved that he wouldn't have to spend all that time doing something stupid like kneeling.
But before he could even guess what might happen next,
he was restrained in less than five seconds,
with barely any resistance—
and sedated right after,
not even getting the chance to say, "Wait—"
And indeed, when he finally fell unconscious...
he was carried—still asleep—into a closed, dark room.
When he opened his eyes fully, he found a man sitting before him.
A man who was, without a doubt, an investigator.
How did he know?
"Would you like to explain the reason behind your actions?"
Yes. Definitely an investigator.
No question about it.
He was even giving him the option to answer or not—
that was peak investigator energy.
Milosh's expression froze, his face turning to ice.
"Isn't it obvious?"
he said in a hoarse voice, roughened by fear.
But inside the investigator's mind, the image was very different—
he saw a tall young man, taller than him, with strong muscles, a cold handsome face,
and a commanding aura, speaking in a voice that carried weight.
In truth, his presence here was just a formality—
A symbolic act to confirm the reason for burning the photo.
Even if Milosh stayed silent, nothing serious would happen to him.
And it seemed Milosh already knew that,
and despised the pointless bureaucracy of it all—
mocking the investigator silently for disturbing his peace.
"Just a formal procedure, as you know…"
the investigator said nervously.
He was new here—this was his first time assigned to such a situation.
He had been a mere church servant before,
and now suddenly, he was here.
"And you can't figure that out without asking me?"
Milosh thought to himself,
"A formal procedure, huh… so I'll be thrown in prison,
but they need a reason first—just so they don't feel guilty about it."
He had once read a piece of advice on an internet forum—
"The strongest answer is the one that builds on the other person's expectations."
Because when you make the person in front of you imagine the answer, it'll always sound better than the truth.
Of course, Milosh couldn't just say he just felt like burning the ruler's picture.
If he did that, he wouldn't just get thrown in prison—
they'd probably extend his sentence and throw in an extra meal,
because clearly, he'd be too stupid to keep his first one from getting stolen.
The investigator's lips trembled as he placed a hand on his forehead.
"Yes, I know… but you still have to tell me, you know… as procedure."
He couldn't tell Milosh directly that he'd be released anyway—he was forbidden to say it.
But based on past experience, Milosh would surely understand what he meant.
Except… he didn't.
Inside Milosh's head, thoughts spun like a rollercoaster.
"As you know...? No, I don't know anything, actually."
He thought fast—then made a split-second decision.
If he was going to end up in prison anyway,
then he'd at least leave them feeling guilty—
not as a rebel, but as a loyal soldier.
Milosh stood up, locking eyes with the investigator.
"It was an insult."
"What?"
Milosh exhaled, giving him the look of someone who's just caught a liar.
"How dare you—how dare you defile the image of the Supreme Ruler!"
The investigator swallowed nervously as Milosh leaned closer, eyes sharp with accusation.
"The image of the Supreme Ruler is… one of the holiest symbols in the entire Empire!"
He continued, his voice rising with every word.
"Its place should be among the cleanest, finest, and most honorable halls!
Yet it was left in a mere room—no, worse—
four dim walls, buried underground, lit by a pathetic flickering light!"
Milosh's eyes blazed, his tone now bordering on fury.
"That is a great insult!
Burning the picture wasn't destruction—it was purification!
I simply released its spirit and placed it within my heart,
to protect it… instead of leaving it in that disgraceful hole!"
After a few moments,
the investigator's mind echoed with Milosh's last words,
each one replaying like a ringing bell inside his head.
When he looked back into Milosh's eyes,
he suddenly smiled, stood up,
and placed a two hands on Milosh's shoulder.
"Student William… you are truly… truly the ideal example of what a student should be.
I'm very proud of you."
He withdrew his hand, gathered the papers scattered on the table,
neatly stacked them, tucked them under his arm, and said:
"Your result is perfect. Expect remarkable success.
I'll make sure to inform the committee of your performance."
Under Milosh's cold stare,
he wanted to shout, "Wait!"
but before he could speak,
the investigator had already left the room.
Milosh froze in place,
his hand twitching with tension.
What's happening…? Am I going to prison or not?
He didn't explain anything… should I just sit here and wait for my fate?
He sat quietly,
but inside him, a volcano of confusion and frustration raged.
He remained there for a long time—
long enough for a janitor to eventually enter and tell him he had to leave so the room could be cleaned.
When Milosh stepped outside,
no one stopped him.
He kept walking—
out of the academy's towering building—
and finally, at last,
the sunlight touched his face again,
soft and warm,
gently striking his eyes after what felt like an eternity in the dark.