《Breaking Ghoul》 The Project Gateway High. Deputy''s Office.The room reeked of stale coffee and marker ink. The table was littered with exercise books, all bearing the heading ''Mathematics.'' On top of this mess sat a silver mac-book, its screen under the intense scrutiny of the deputy headmaster.If they could still be called that, his glasses had only one remaining lens and were missing an arm. This forced the middle-aged man to tilt his head to keep them in place. The single lens had a visible crack that split it into three parts. Together with his scruffy coat, he looked like he had just stepped out of a comic book.John barely resisted, unleashing his usual disses. His months of work; and even his future ¡ª depended on this man''s go-ahead. He could not lose himself after going through the pain of setting up this meeting."Hn," Deputy Woo-Hat acknowledged with a nod as he continued scrolling through the sleek interface. His right hand wouldpause on the touchpad while his left propped up his ''glasses.''The effort it took to remain silent was immeasurable. Sensing his breaking point, John immediately introduced: "Automatic headcount, seamless attendance capturing and grading¡ªno more paper cuts!" His words flowed like a rehearsed play.Woo-Hat remained unresponsive before finally asking, "Can this system also accommodate the other students from elementary on top of the high school traffic?" As a veteran in web development, he was skeptical of a high school teenager''s ability to pull off a system of this magnitude."Well, the framework I am using allows me to scale the project¡ª""That won''t do. This system is clearly vulnerable to a Denial of Service attack. Do you even know what that is?" Woo-Hat asked, finally removing his nose from the laptop."I do. In fact, I was the top student in computer science¡ªwith a 98% average.""Oh." Woo-Hat buried his nose back into the screen, scrolling idly around a single point before blurting out,"So, you pulled this off alone?""Yes, and that''s exactly why I''m the best man for the job¡ª""No, that won''t do. Even Picasso didn''t build Rome by himself. You need a team." Woo-Hat shut the laptop and clasped his hands under his chin, striking a pose that belonged in a CEO''s office.''But Picasso wasn''t even born at that time,'' John thought but wisely kept it to himself. He needed this man''s help to reach the school owners. But getting past him was not going to be easy.Noticing Whis shaken expression, Woo-Hat conceded, "However, there might be some merit to your work. I''ll need to take a closer look at it," Dropping his ''glasses.'', he continued, "The school appreciates your generous offer." He reached for his coat while grabbing some notebooks.John knew that was just a polite invitation to leave. "But can I take the laptop for a final test before the presentation?" He reached for it, but Woo-Hat instantly dropped his books, scooping the laptop into one of his desk drawers."Can''t do, the first impression is always the strongest. You should go get some rest." Woo-Hat''s gaze flicked to the dark circles under John''s eyes. A flicker of nostalgia crossed his face. Once, he had been an ambitious lad too. Yet... ah. He still had to crush the boy''s dreams."Fine, I''ll be on my way," John sighed, rising to his feet. Leaving his laptop behind felt like a mistake, but this was Gateway, the richest school in the city. Naturally, its security was top-notch. His baby wasn''t going anywhere. He''d spent too much time in the hood. Now, everyone looks suspicious. It was high time he moved uptown.As he closed the door behind him, a smirk tugged at his lips. ''At least I got his attention.'' He stretched his arms, letting out a triumphant chuckle. "Poverty¡ª" His voice dragged out as he punched in the air while continuing, "I finally have the upper hand! Seventeen-year-old Bill Gates, ha-ha-ha!" His laughter echoed down the hallway, and moments later, a series of howls from nearby teachers spread out."Who''s that !?""Noise!""Get me my stick!""Oops!"Students peeked through windows, eager to spot the unlucky culprit. But they were too late; John was already halfway down the hallway, heading for the stairs to the ground floor....Behind the closed door, Woo-Hat''s hands trembled. After losing his previous job, he had started to doubt himself¡ªto wonder if his programming career had slipped beyond recovery. He had convinced himself that his best years were behind him.But now, a broad smile crept onto his face. "This-this is it."The moment John introduced his idea, Woo-Hat saw its trajectory from the runway to the takeoff. Across the country, in underdeveloped nations, how many schools still lacked even a basic website?Let alone a system that allowed parents to monitor their children''s time of arrival and the current route of the school bus, along with many endless features. The moment this product hits the market, it''ll take the world by storm, and its creator will be the greatest genius of the century.* * *Slowing down at the corner, John took the stairs down to the ground floor. But after a few steps, his body froze like a lamb that had spotted a tiger. Out of the shadows emerged a dark-skinned youth with a lollipop perched at the corner of his mouth, flanked by two other boys.Who else but the notorious bully, Sweet Tooth? John slowly turned to retreat when he suddenly felt a hand grab his collar with practiced quickness. In an instant, he was slammed against the wall. The other boys rushed in, seizing his arms."Oh, where are you rushing off to, stick-man?" Sweet Tooth sneered, smacking his lips as he pressed his elbow against John''s neck. A muffled groan escaped John''s clenched teeth, but Sweet Tooth only pressed harder and taunted, "What, you can''t hear me?"In a burst of anger, John managed to push Sweet Tooth back. Through gritted teeth, he demanded, "What do you want?" In all his two years at the school, he had never encountered this squad. He couldn''t fathom why they would target him, knowing he wasn''t even rich. Especially Sweet-Tooth, weren''t they pals back in the day when they were both green newcomers?But the gang only chuckled, offering no explanation. "Stick-man sure has some fight in him," Sweet Tooth said, delivering another elbow to John''s neck. "They should probably make a game about you¡ªoh, wait, they already did," he added, laughing as his cohorts joined in. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.Desperate to break free, John attacked using his free limp. However, his counterattack was anticipated, and his blow was swiftly blocked."That''s a p*** move, even for you, sticks." Sweet Tooth jeered as he stopped John''s right leg a few inches below his nether region. Any slower, and he''d be having blue balls till dismissal time. Annoyed, Sweet Tooth released his grip on John''s leg before continuing to batter him in the stomach."Gugh!" John groaned as the force of Sweet Tooth''s blow sent pain shooting through his gut."That was for that low blow," Sweet Tooth said, swinging his fist again. "And this is for your frequent visits to our class. Has your Fountain [classroom] run out of b*** already?" he taunted, unleashing another blow that sent John staggering. This time, split flew in the air.Disgusted, the two boys holding John''s arms loosened their grip to flee. A momentary lapse flashed in John''s eyes. Seizing the cover, he swung his right hand and landed a solid punch on Sweet Tooth''s face¡ªknocking a tooth out in the process. Don''t know if it was the sweet one.Caught off guard, Sweet Tooth stumbled, and his gang quickly dragged him down the stairs. John slumped to the ground, taking long, labored breaths as he clutched his knees.Though he had managed to fend off his attackers for the moment, he knew he''d only worsened his situation. Bullies hated nothing more than a retaliating victim.The gang halted their descent by clinging to the railings. One of the boys had already backed away. Poking a cornered chicken was not a wise idea.However, Sweet Tooth had a different idea. Stiffened in disbelief, the punk had just returned a blow. He started licking his lips in delight, but the taste of iron and a gap that ought to contain a..."You did not!" Sweet Tooth shouted as he clawed for John''s clothes. The Teacher John''s heart skipped a beat as adrenaline surged through him; his fist clenched, ready for the inevitable clash. Scenes of Jackie Chan''s moves started to flow through his eyes, and yet the anticipated impact never came. "Hey, hey, let him have it. Time''s running out," Ronnie barked, struggling to hold Sweet Tooth back. "Do you want the teachers involved? Especially Gaza and Tomato?" His words had the desired effect. The other youth reluctantly held Sweet Tooth''s other arm, helping Ronnie to hold him back. He could risk him lashing out later, but he cannot lose his monthly allowance. His parents would not tolerate violence on his report. "Let go of me!" Sweet Tooth tried to shrug off Ronnie''s grip, but the boys were determined. "You and me, tomorrow, at the school grounds!" he shouted, attempting to intimidate John. That was the only thing he could do, after all, he''d already exhausted his three strikes after getting caught sneaking alcohol into school on Valentine''s Day. This time, if news of this got out, it was definite expulsion. John exhaled a sigh of relief as the youths retreated. But he could feel a headache coming after him. Now, of all time, he''d booked himself a match with Sweet Tooth. Not to mention his sickly physique, he had almost near-zero experience in brawls. The last time John had gotten into a scuffle was back in elementary school. Escaping that encounter had been nothing short of a miracle, all thanks to the other kid''s caution about his recent operation ¡ª afraid he might accidentally kill him. But tomorrow... Sweet Tooth would undoubtedly try to restore his reputation by all means necessary, and a few of his teeth would not cut it. "Gruuh!" John''s stomach growled in protest. Was it the lingering pain or the anticipation of what tomorrow might bring? No matter what, he must avoid the fight otherwise, if the school staff decides he''s a violent wild-ling, he might lose the opportunity to pitch his idea. "Gruuh!" His head turned toward the nearest bathroom as if seeking escape from the uncertainty ahead. * * * "And where are you coming from?" As the glass door swung open, the squad was met by a stern-faced teacher dressed in a worn-out suit. A man from the hood with tons of problems and was underpaid, but his single gaze shifted the expressions of the youths instantly. "We couldn''t find any extra chairs, sir. T," Ronnie quickly interjected his wit on full display. Gonzo''s expression remained impassive as he scanned the group. His eyes soon fell on the bloodstains on Sweet Tooth''s face. "And what happened to you, Savior?" he asked. The boy standing beside Ronnie opened his mouth to reply¡ªbut before he could, Sweet Tooth stomped his foot, stepping forward to cover the mishap. Acting nonchalantly, Sweet Tooth answered, "I fell on the stairs, sir," his voice inadvertently breaking into a whistle.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Ha-ha-ha!" Laughter erupted from the crowd as they noticed his missing tooth. Even the normally serious students, busy scribbling notes, dropped their pens in amusement. "Silence!" Sir Gonzo bellowed, his cool, unyielding demeanor instantly quelling the clamor. A few stifled chuckles managed to escape, which only incited Sweet Tooth further¡ªa boy more accustomed to being the target of insults now found himself with a chance to retort. Yet, once again, all that emerged from his mouth was a defiant whistle. This lone sound sent the bored students into another wave of mockery, with shouts of "Whistling-man!" echoing from the back of the class. Before Gonzo could regain control, his unsightly face contorted with displeasure. "Who said that?!" he demanded. The entire class quieted as all eyes shifted toward a figure in the left corner¡ªa student whose wool hat was worn so low it nearly concealed his eyes. "Ah, Taps, please join your friends," Gonzo ordered once he identified the culprit. A tall boy, a sly smile playing on his lips, made his way over to the group; his suppressed laughter betrayed no remorse. [Note: At Gateway High, after Grade 7, students are graded from 1 to 5. A "4 Orange" is equivalent to grade 11, class - orange.] "Okay. You 4 Orange students are becoming notorious for mischief around here. If you were as disciplined as the Fountains [John''s class], I could spend my day without frowning¡ªor having to pester Brother Charles," Gonzo sneered. "Now, I''ll ask one question, and I expect one answer: which classes did you visit in your search for the ''extra chairs?''" He continued to question. The silence and lack of response only further cemented the truth forming in his mind. "So not only do you fool around in other students'' classes, but you also forget your chairs when it''s my lesson?" "Now you''re busy sneaking away during my period¡ªand one of you even got hurt?" Gonzo snapped, smacking his lips in derision. "My Geo lesson must''ve been incredibly boring." With that, he turned and began rummaging through the front desk. Sweet Tooth couldn''t bring himself to confess that it was John''s doing; if he did, many people would become his ''friend'' today, and a huge mob is likely to stand beside him. Gonzo continued shifting books on his cluttered teacher''s table. The object he sought was evident by the ashen faces the squad had worn. Getting flogged in front of the class would certainly lower their "heat level" by a large margin. Fortunately for them, after a few moments, the teacher failed to find it. "How lucky¡ªI forgot to bring Brother Charley. Anyway¡ª" Gonzo''s voice was abruptly cut off by the chime of his phone. Seconds later, a smile crept onto his face. "Seems there''s a blockage in the senior bathroom pipes, and the responsible staff is on leave." Gonzo scanned the rows of students; some turned away, some looked down, while others offered nothing more than poker faces. He teasingly smiled at each one, fully aware of the mischief brewing in their minds. But today, they were not the ones who would face his wrath. His gaze abruptly shifted toward the squad lingering by the door. "Heh... since you''ve escaped Brother Charley''s disciplinary lesson, you will assist in the fetching of toilet water as well as help fetch the water during lunch" The squad''s expressions darkened¡ªnone more so than Sweet Tooth''s. His face twisted as if he had swallowed a fly. He could already hear the whispers, see the smirks. He was going to be the talk of the year. And it was all because of that punk-ass Stick-Man. His veins bulged as he clenched his fists. That match was on. But first¡ªhe needed more money for the hit on John. Publicly cleaning the toilets. Losing his tooth. All for ten lousy bucks. ... Meanwhile, John casually shooed a fly away. "There are so many annoying things at this school; luckily, this is the final year of torture," he muttered under his breath. Getting up, he pulled his pants, closed the lid, and grabbed the handle ¡ªbut it didn''t work. "Well, this is what those janitors are being paid for," he remarked dryly as he left the room, not knowing what he left would only fuel the chaos that was gonna come. The Lunch Box Gateway was a joint name for both high and elementary schools. The primary school (elementary) consisted of parallel rows of quiet classrooms, completely different from the noisy building that housed the senior high. As John made the final turn at the corner, facing the direction of his classroom, today''s events flashed through his mind. He knew it was only a matter of time before the entire stream heard about his "match." And all those freaks in his class would probably cheer him on to take the challenge. "Sigh," John let out a mouthful of air as he raised his head, reading the sign that had been written on bond paper and plastered on top of the sliding glass door: 4 Fountain. The work had been done hastily; they couldn''t even get a metal or wooden frame. Even though the building had just been unveiled, Gateway''s stingy nature would put Mr. Krabs to shame. "Bang!" Using more force than intended, the door made a sound as it rebounded off its track, grabbing the entire class''s attention. All the curious eyes stared at John, waiting. Scratching his head in embarrassment, John said, "My bad, I thought the railing was still blocked with those chip crumbs." "John, you do this all the time! Do you think you''re some sort kind of Ethan Hunt? What if you broke that glass door? Winter is approaching; do you want us to freeze to death?" rang a sharp feminine voice from the center row of the class. That sharp tongue belonged to the class''s "witch," Trisha. With her flawless face and nicely tied hair, you would never expect such venomous words to spill out of her smooth pink lips. "It''s all your fault for playing tag in class; don''t push the blame on me," John retorted. He had long gotten used to her bickering mouth. Besides, wouldn''t everyone know how weak he was if he took an entire minute to open the door? As John walked away, a crooked smile crept off Trisha''s lips. "Interesting, but why won''t he react?" Indeed, she was the culprit. This newcomer had given her different vibes from the rest of the class. Not only did he give up pursuing her midway, he''s now interested in another. Was he playing her or practicing on her? Either way. "only I get to decide who plays who." John headed to his desk at the back of the class, in the right corner. But the gazes of the classmates followed him all the way. Even though he didn''t have a third eye, the tingling sensation on his back gave it all away. "What''s going on?" John asked his seatmate, Tashman, who only let out a high-pitched, all-knowing laugh. Before John could press him further, a sound rang from behind him. "Well, if it isn''t our secret Casanova¡ªwho''s the lucky girl this time?" Caspa said while offering himself a seat at the desk, even though that was prohibited by Woo-hat''s laws. "I don''t know what you''re talking about," John swiveled his head toward Tashman. He wondered if this brat had been running his mouth again. But Tashman''s expression only said one thing: Everyone knows, bro.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Yes, my man!" Out of nowhere, John found himself the victim of a street handshake, the American drug exchange one. But among youths, it only had one meaning: "rizzler." "Ah, honestly, what''s the news?" John continued to feign ignorance, but that only provoked the other youths to poke at him further, especially Xavier, who had just passed on the handshake. "How did you manage it? One kick, a direct score!" "She accepted?!" John exclaimed, but the laughter that followed made him realize he was just naive and had been schemed against. Suddenly, it hit him, that line from Sweet Tooth: "And this is for your frequent visits to our class. Has your Fountain run out of b*** already?" Hitting his face with his palm, John understood what the matter was about. But doesn''t Sweet Tooth have a girlfriend? "It was nothing; I only got her phone number," John sat down, adjusting the back window behind him. He continued, saying, "I was just trying something new; she''s probably taken anyway." John said as he turned around, only to be met by disbelieving eyes. "Don''t lie. Flex''s younger brother, Taps, studies in that class; she''s not taken, bro," Xavier said, his tone confident with his information. His confidence traveled directly into John''s heart. If that were the case, things might not be as simple as time-pushing. ¡­ The sun hung high in the sky, exerting a fiery presence on the school sporting fields, which were dotted with students. The smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of distant gossiping teens, and the penetrating warmth relaxed John''s fatigued mind. Scanning the entire field, John spotted a circle near the goalposts. He could see his friends unloading their backpacks. This was his favorite time of day ¨C lunchtime. Knowing there''d be no leftovers if he idled around, John started walking towards the group. Along the way, the smell of slow-baked bacon and grilled sausages only made his stomach growl louder. A few steps away from the group, a rational thought surfaced in his mind. It had been two months since the term began, and all this time, he had never been seen bringing a lunch box to school. As he neared the group, his thick skin began to feel thin. He recalled his statement from a day ago, where he mentioned he had no friends in this world. And yet, he shamelessly ate these kids'' food from their parents without any remorse. What kind of monster was he? Suddenly, all the hunger, like a stone thrown into a dam, vanished. "Hey, John, why aren''t you taking a seat?" said Zeg Egg, John''s classmate from back in elementary school. They both studied at a school in the hood before splitting up at grade seven, only to reunite at the crossroads: grade eleven. Taking a seat, John unconsciously wrapped his legs around each other, a posture commonly taken when waiting for food in rural areas. Seated to John''s right was Kelvin, who cast John a sideways glance along with a raised eyebrow before slowly bringing out his lunch box. "Who''s going to pray for us?" Caspa humorously asked. They had never prayed before. After all, it was deemed a rookie move and an outdated event. Everyone chuckled in reply. Having gotten his "prize," Caspa turned towards John and let out a mischievous grin. "Hey, since you didn''t bring your lunch box today either, why don''t you pray?" "Uh," John blinked, waking up to a group that cast him questioning looks. "Oh, God bless our¡ª" His voice was abruptly cut off by Ziggy, who sat beside Caspa, who in turn sat on John''s left. "What are you doing? He''s just messing with you," Ziggy laughed. His opened lunch box let out an aroma that made John''s stomach growl in protest: polony. Unable to take it anymore, Kelvin lashed out, "How long are you going to continue eating our food? Next time, bring your lunch," Kelvin said while opening his lunch and placing it in the center. The Truth "Here, have a pair," said Xavier, who sat between Ziggy and Ghost. His opened lunchbox had four slices of bread and two roasted eggs. Before his long hands reached John, Ziggy had already presented his rice on the lunch box cover. "Hold this," he said. "I got him," chimed the instigator Caspa as he received all the food, placing it in front of John. "Wait, after I mix the noodles, I''ll give you my share," said Caspa as he took the noodle spices out of his pockets. "Here, take mine," said Ghost, noticing how everyone was making him the bad guy. John stood in place, stunned. Ever since he arrived, he never said a word about food. Since when had his "favor" been worth so much? It''s not like he was going to complain if they refused to give him some. Suddenly, his heart could no longer contain his emotions. Scooping everything up, he began filling his mouth. Laughing off, Caspa continued to say, "Hand over your lunches; I''ll do the sharing today." His hands extended, grabbing everybody''s lunch. But he paused at Ghost, who had retrieved his from the lunch circle and now had it in his hands. "Here, you can have mine," he said, looking at John on his left. "I-m good, already full," John''s muffled voice escaped through his stuffed cheeks. But that only made Ghost personally scoop out his rice and pour it into an empty lunch lid. "Anyway, did you see that hat trick from Haaland that won City the match last night?" said Caspa, shifting the conversation. "Yeah, I was up all night, didn''t even write those geo notes," said Ziggy, "That game cost me ten bucks." Xavier scoffed, shaking his head. "I told you to sell all those blue jerseys while you still had the chance." Ziggy rolled his eyes as John interjected, methodically setting down his lunch lids. "I''d rather make money so I can watch the game live in the stadium than be all hyped up like a kid watching Tom and Jerry." "What do you know? You don''t even like sports," said Ghost. "But money is more important, and you need education to make it," John replied.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it "Or an elf," Ghost mumbled. "Nah, the real money is in the streets. Ever see the money on that power series?" Ziggy countered. "You mean drugs? That''ll end you in bars quicker than a granny can¡­" Ghost began, but Xavier cut him off. "That''s the low-level stuff Ziggy''s talking about¡ªthe street side. The real players don''t touch the goods. They control who moves it." "So basically, what? You''re saying there''s a market?" John asked. Ziggy nodded. "A big one. And it''s booming." Ghost scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah? And how many people end up dead or rotting in jail over this ''booming market''? Y''all need to quit this fast-cash nonsense before you end up in some documentary." "Egan did it. The other guys just weren''t smart and ruthless enough. We ain''t built like that; instead, we should spend more time working math problems," John argued. "See, it''s better to just pass and get a job," Ghost said. "But getting all those girls and hosting those parties¡­" Caspa chimed in, a dreamy look in his eyes. "Yes, boy¡­ that''s the spirit!" Xavier exclaimed, offering a smooth handshake. But Ghost and John silently shook their own hands. That method was just full of risks. Besides, where were they going to find a distro (drug wholesaler)? ¡­ "There''s the bell; we should leave before Woo-hat comes down," said Caspa. "Who cares about that energetic fool?" Ziggy scoffed. "Eeh¡­I don''t want to be seen picking up papers," said Ghost, standing up. "Here, I have to visit the bathroom," Xavier said, passing his bag to Zeg Egg. "Me too," said John, following right after. "I guess I should hurry back and finish those notes before the geo lesson starts," Ziggy muttered to himself. ¡­ "What was that? You made me look mad," Ghost said, grabbing Caspa into a vice. "What are you talking about?" Caspa squeezed a laugh. "You were supposed to back me up!" Ghost hissed. ¡­ "Bro, I''m telling you, I''ll be the Gustavo of this empire," said Xavier, zipping his pants. "Boy, with your grades, you''re only fit to be Pink-man," John retorted. "And even that might be a challenge, hah," continued John. "Fuck you," Xavier muttered. "But seriously, we should use these people''s addiction," Xavier continued, lowering his voice. "Man, lower your voice. One, you have no supplier. Two, you have no ties with the street, " John whispered back. "Biggest goddamn dealer in Southern Africa, ha! First, get your periodic table right," John scoffed. "Right now, you''re too green," John continued, walking away, not noticing that Xavier had already halted his steps. "We should work more on those chem exercises, and maybe you might just reach 60% before consultation day," John continued as he grabbed the railing. Finally noticing the silence, John swiveled his head backward, only to find Xavier standing at the base of the stairs, mumbling some inaudible words. "Come on, we still have afternoon lessons before home time," urged John. "Nah, I have to see this girl first," Xavier said, raising his head and smiling. "Oh¡­ good luck," John said with an all-knowing smile as he began climbing the stairs, not realizing the way up was down. And that someone had already found this universal truth before him and would only realize it after many months would have passed.