The room the staff left Noah in was small, windowless, and too quiet. Just a single metal table. Two chairs. A faint hum from the ventilation.
To most students, it would feel like a disciplinary chamber.
But to Noah Sato…it felt like the inside of a jungle cave before a storm.
As seconds dragged on, something inside him shifted.
Not consciously.
Not intentionally.
Just the instincts of a boy who once survived an entire month in the Amazon at age five.
Noah's breathing slowed. His eyes lost their warmth. Every muscle relaxed in a way that looked unnervingly controlled.
His expression turned blank—cold—empty.
If anyone saw him now, they would think he was suppressing murderous intent.
But Noah was simply… nervous.
I probably messed up some rule… or that phrase I said… maybe it was some exam cheat code? Am I in trouble?
He took a silent breath.
His gaze lifted to the door.
But the way he looked at it—steady, unblinking, calculating—made it seem like he was studying the best angle to break someone's neck if they walked in.
The fluorescent light above flickered faintly.
Noah didn't move.
He sat completely still, only his eyes shifting slightly—measuring the room, the shadows, the corners.
Unintentionally radiating the same aura a cornered, wounded lion gives off when surrounded by hyenas.
Pure animal tension.
Pure survival instinct.
Outside the room…
Three student council members and two academy security officers stood before the door, hesitant to enter.
Avery Quinn, the president, frowned at the data pad in her hand.
"His vitals are abnormal," she whispered. "Heart rate… impossibly steady. Stress level… zero?"
Vice Commander Elias Ward peeked through the small window in the door—and froze.
Inside, Noah sat in perfect stillness. Expression unreadable. Eyes dull and predatory.
Elias flinched back.
"…What the hell kind of high schooler sits like that?"
A junior council member swallowed hard.
"He's not sitting. He's… waiting. Like he wants us to walk into his trap."
Avery's eyebrows tightened.
"That's impossible. His background doesn't match this demeanor."
The junior whispered:
"President… that's exactly why it's scary."
Avery exhaled. "Fine. We go in. Maintain distance. No sudden moves."
Elias nodded, touching the stun weapon at his side—just in case.
Inside
The door clicked.
Noah didn't move.
Didn't blink.
He simply looked.
To him, it was a harmless glance—he just wanted to see who entered.
To them?
It was like a predator marking its next target.
Avery stepped inside first. She maintained perfect posture but her heartbeat picked up.
His eyes… they're dead. Hollow. As if he's seen things children shouldn't.
Elias followed and instantly felt a chill crawl up his spine.
He's gauging our combat ability. With one glance… he's sizing us all up…
The council members took cautious positions. No one dared sit.
Noah blinked once.
Slowly.
It made them all tense.
Finally, Noah spoke—soft, polite, confused.
"…A-Am I in trouble?"
Everyone flinched.
The gentle voice did not match the oppressive aura crushing the room.
Avery swallowed.
"Noah Sato. Before we begin questioning… may I ask why you are emitting this… pressure?"
"Pressure…?" Noah tilted his head. "Sorry, I'm just… anxious."
Elias nearly choked.
ANXIOUS?! What level of monster projects killing intent just because he's nervous?!
Avery steadied her voice.
"Please relax."
"I… am relaxed," Noah said honestly.
The room collectively panicked inside.
Because if this was him "relaxed," then what was he like when he wasn't?
Noah, oblivious, tried to smile to ease the tension.
It came out as a stiff, unnatural stretch of the lips—it looked more like a predator baring its fangs.
Three council members visibly stepped back.
Avery inhaled sharply.
This boy… what kind of training produces instincts like this?
Noah sat there, wondering:
Why does everyone look scared? Did I forget to shower?
He truly had no idea.