Marcus followed behind Max as fast as he could. He kept calling out for him, but Max wasn't responding. It wasn't because he couldn't hear him. It was because Max didn't want to talk or even look at his brother. 

After Max's encounter with Ren Adachi, he finally understood why Janus and Marcus had been so secretive. It all revolved around one word: brotherhoods.

To most people, the term sounded harmless, almost like an organization born from loyalty and camaraderie. But for high society, a brotherhood wasn't about team building and private dinners. It was modeled after criminal organizations formed by powerful offenders who preserved rank and loyalty even inside prison. Power didn't vanish behind bars; it reorganized itself.

And somehow, Janus had decided that such a system belonged in a high school.

Had his uncle lost his mind?

"Max."

"Leave me alone."

"Please, I can explain."

Max stopped walking and turned around to look at his brother, who also made a sudden halt. "You're good, Mr. Thompson. You and our uncle. You're both the same." Max told him with a half-hearted smile. Marcus wanted to say something to at least defend himself, but words just wouldn't come out of his mouth. Max found it funny how he didn't even try to say anything at least, even if it was a stupid excuse.

"Has it ever crossed your mind to even tell me, for god's sake?!" Max now asked with a louder tone.

Marcus aggressively scratched the back of his head and finally opened his mouth. "I wanted to tell you, okay? But Uncle told me not to. He knew that you'd react like this."

Max couldn't believe what he just heard. He almost wanted to punch him out of complete anger. "React like what? Like a normal person? Do you even know what brotherhoods are? God, Marcus, I am a future chairman of one of the biggest corporations in the world. I have kept my name and our family name clean for as long as I can remember. What do you think the outcome would be if something happens to me here?" Max asked, his temper reaching its utmost limit.

Marcus started looking worried. He was searching for the right words to say next, trying his best to turn the situation around. "You don't have to worry about that. There are rules, okay? Rules that keep the brotherhoods at bay. We cannot physically hurt the students. There's a certain—" Marcus instantly stopped when he saw his brother's horrified reaction.

"We. You said we," Max repeated, and Marcus cursed under his breath upon realizing it himself.

Max forced out a laugh and brushed his hair back with his fingers. After everything he had already experienced today, this was finally the end of the line for him. Nothing he'd learn now would be more shocking than this. "Of course. The uniform and the brooch said it all. I'm an idiot," Max said, still trying to laugh it off because this all seemed like a big joke now.

Marcus knew that whatever he said now wouldn't make Max feel any better. He knew that the smartest thing to do was to accept his mistake and give Max the time to think.

"You have always kept secrets from me. You've lied so much before that I thought you'd at least get tired of it, but I guess I was wrong," Max told him, but this time, he wasn't laughing anymore.

"Max, I—"

"I've always wanted the truth from you. Apparently, all this time, that hasn't been clear enough." 

Max didn't break eye contact. But before he started saying anything else that would end up hurting him and his brother, he decided to just walk away. And this time, Marcus didn't follow him.

* * *

On the second floor of the Hall of Caelus, where the 2nd-year classes were placed, Max arrived at room 201, where Class II-A could be found. Students placed in an A-class had an above-average grade of 94% from their previous year. For Max's case and for any other student who enrolled this year, their grade would be based on the score they received on their placement exams. Students in this class also had a handful of awards and achievements, since it was one of the requirements needed to be part of the class. This was the reason why Ren Adachi mentioned that being in an A-class was an impressive accomplishment.

Max, who had been staring at the door for a while now, took a long, deep breath to calm his nerves. His conversation with his brother hadn't ended well, and the loud noises coming from inside his new classroom were making him anxious.

After gathering all his courage, Max finally opened the door. The moment he did so, everyone in the room became quiet. Students who had even been playing around stopped what they were doing to look at him. There were twenty students inside the class, a number that Max wasn't expecting to see because he thought there would be more of them.

Max avoided eye contact and proceeded to look for an empty seat. But as he was doing so, a tall student suddenly stood in his way and told him, "Hey, aren't you even going to greet us?"

"Yeah. Didn't your parents teach you any manners? Introduce yourself, new kid," another student added.

Max looked around the room with a blank expression. Everyone was looking at him with mocking smiles. As much as he hated where this was going, Max knew that if he didn't play along, this wouldn't end well for him. 

"I'm Maximilian Sinclaire." Max finally introduced himself before pushing away the student who was blocking his path.

The class howled at Max's surprising behavior, while the student he pushed didn't seem to like the attitude at all. Feeling embarrassed at the dismissive response, he followed Max to the seat he chose to claim, which was the seat at the far right of the room.

As soon as Max hung his bag on the table's hook, the student who stopped him earlier suddenly kicked his chair away and grabbed Max's shoulder, forcefully making the young heir face him.

"You think you're all that just 'cause you're a Sinclaire? Is that it?" the student argued.

The class became quiet. Not because their classmates were picking a fight with Max, but because Max was able to stop his chair from colliding with the other student who was sitting beside him.

"You almost hit him," Max said, referring to the guy whose seat almost clashed with his.

The tough student laughed and looked back at his friends, who awkwardly laughed with him. "Come on now, don't act like you actually give a shit about others. We've seen the news. We know what kind of person you really are. Destructive and selfish, just like your mother." He sneered.

As soon as his mother was mentioned, something inside Max snapped. He could tolerate the embarrassment and the bullying, but the single mention of his mother, who had passed away five years ago, finally tipped his iceberg.

Max didn't care about the outcome. He disregarded his image and got ready to throw a punch, but the student who had almost been hit by the chair earlier immediately stood from his seat to stop him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. He's an underling."

"And I'm not feeling merciful," Max answered, looking back at the supposed underling. "I've been receiving crap ever since I arrived in this school. I swore I'd go along with the principles that J.S. High embodies, principles that state that everything I am would be nothing if I stepped foot on its grounds."

The student wanted to say something back, but Max's growing dominance was consuming him. He took a step back every time Max got closer. He was starting to feel scared of him.

"I can endure the insults, but the moment you mention my mother, heaven will fall upon you," Max warned him.

When the boy finally reached a wall, Max grabbed hold of his collar and noticed his bronze brooch, which looked like a clown mask. This must have been a symbol that he was an underling, like what that other guy had mentioned earlier. Max chuckled when he saw it.

"Underling, you say? How pathetic." He let go of the guy's collar and looked him straight in the eye. "Who cares if you're an underling? I'm a Sinclaire. Mention my mother one last time, and you will never be able to go out of the walls of this school again. I swear to you, I can ruin your life without even lifting a finger."

The man pinned against the wall looked back at Max with complete horror. Everyone was silent. If any other student had said such a bold statement, they would have just laughed it off and thought of it as a bluff. But Max wasn't just any other student. Everything he said could become a reality in front of their very own eyes.

"That's enough." Someone commanded, his voice echoing around the room because of how loud it was.

Everyone looked at the doorway and found a professor standing there with his arms crossed. He was surprisingly lean compared to his low voice, and his hair was perfectly waxed back. It was obvious he was covered in tattoos too, since everyone could glimpse them on his neck and hands. If not for his uniform, the students wouldn't have even guessed that he was a professor at all.

"Sit down. All of you."