Free Web NovelChapter 2: Chapter 2:The third kind of interaction.
"Oi! Filthy Orphan!"
The words cracked across the bustling academy campus like thunder, drawing the attention of every student within earshot. Some even slowed their motoflies mid-air, curiosity getting the better of them as they turned to watch whatever spectacle was about to unfold.
Roman, all too familiar with the greeting, let out a quiet sigh and continued walking.
There were two kinds of interactions students at this academy had with him.
The first—and by far the most common—was nothing at all. They went about their days, laughed with their friends, rode their motoflies, and simply never registered his existence. To them, he was little more than part of the scenery. Background noise. Furniture.
The second was acknowledgment without approach. They noticed him—the worn academy uniform, the unhurried stride, the deliberate solitude—but chose to keep their distance all the same.
It was Olive Miller who, about a year ago, had invented a third.
---
How dare he...
Roman hadn’t even turned around.
A sharp flicker of irritation crossed Olive’s face. He pressed down on the accelerator of his Flyte 3—a sleek, extravagant flying car worth more than most families would earn in an entire year—and shot ahead before bringing it to a halt mere centimetres from Roman’s path.
The door slid open.
Olive stepped out.
Two figures followed behind him.
To his right stood a young man dressed in an immaculate suit. His posture was straight, his expression composed, and his eyes swept over the surroundings in slow, calculating motions, like a machine silently evaluating every variable before reaching a conclusion.
To his left stood a young woman in a neatly fitted maid’s uniform. Her gaze rested on Roman with quiet patience, as though she were simply waiting for a reason to act.
The three of them blocked the path ahead.
Roman came to a stop.
He looked at them for a brief moment before quietly setting his bag on the ground.
"Get it over with," he said flatly.
"Tsk."
Olive tilted his head, suppressing the irritation simmering beneath his smile.
"Why do you always assume I’m here to kick your ass?"
Roman didn’t answer.
He simply waited, his eyes steady and expression unreadable—the look of someone who had long ago learned that the quickest way through something unpleasant was to let it happen.
"I’m not going to hit you today."
Olive’s tone softened into something almost reasonable as he reached out and lightly patted Roman’s cheek.
"I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I just wanted to say goodbye... and make you an offer you’d be a fool to refuse."
His smile widened.
"And this is how you greet me? Looking at me like I’m some kind of monster?"
Roman’s gaze shifted ever so slightly.
Still, he remained silent.
He had known Olive for two years.
The Olive Miller he knew did not speak this way—not without a reason, and certainly never without a price hidden somewhere beneath his words.
"Stop performing," Roman said quietly. "Say what you came to say, or I’ll be on my way." freewёbnoνel.com
The words struck harder than Olive expected.
The thin veneer of civility shattered.
"You piece of shit."
The carefully crafted smile disappeared, revealing everything that had been festering beneath it ever since Alice Crimson had walked away without sparing him a second glance.
"I come to you being reasonable. Being generous. And you stand there looking at me with that expression."
His voice sank lower.
"That rotten, high-and-mighty look."
"You have nothing."
"You came from nothing."
"And yet you stand there as though you’re somehow above this."
His eyes swept over Roman’s shabby academy uniform, his untamed hair, and the quiet stillness with which he carried himself.
For some reason, that stillness looked less like defeat...
...and more like dignity.
It made something inside Olive tighten with a rage he couldn’t quite understand.
"A God is standing before you," he said, no longer bothering to hide the arrogance swelling inside him. "You should be grateful."
His voice sharpened.
"You should be begging."
"I was willing to bring you to the God’s District as my personal attendant. A stray like you, given a place among Gods."
He paused, allowing every word to sink in.
"But you can’t even show me the basic decency of a response."
His smile returned.
"So perhaps you’re not even worth that much."
Roman met his eyes without saying a word.
"That got your attention, did it?"
Olive smiled—a thin, satisfied smile.
"Just what you’d expect from an orphan."
Without warning, he drove his boot straight into Roman’s chest.
The impact sent Roman crashing into the metal wall behind him with a deafening clang that echoed across the campus.
Several students instinctively flinched.
Not one of them stepped forward.
"Magnificent kick, Young Master."
The young man applauded politely, genuine admiration evident in his calm voice.
The maid quietly glanced down at Olive’s boot before giving a small nod.
"It seems the enchantment held perfectly."
"Of course it did."
Olive admired the polished boot with obvious satisfaction.
"It’s one of the latest products from my brother’s world."
He chuckled.
"Not bad, right?"
The surrounding crowd immediately erupted into murmurs.
"Did you see that kick?"
"That boot came from Miller Trading?"
"No wonder..."
"Serves him right. Who told him to mouth off to Olive?"
Olive stretched lazily, the frustration Alice had left him with now completely gone.
"That was refreshing."
He glanced once toward Roman before turning away.
"I’m actually going to miss this once we’re in the God’s District."
He waved dismissively.
"Let’s go."
"After you, Young Master."
The suited android opened the car door.
Olive stepped inside without another glance.
Moments later, the Flyte rose silently into the air before disappearing beyond the academy skyline.
The onlookers lingered for a while after the Flyte disappeared.
Some casually raised their holographic lenses, snapping holos of the aftermath with the detached curiosity of people documenting something mildly entertaining rather than witnessing an act of cruelty. Teachers and academy staff, who had observed the entire incident from a distance, quietly dispersed without a word.
Roman slowly slid down the metal wall until he was seated on the ground.
He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and remained there for a moment.
He’s gotten weaker.
Roman stared absently at the smear of blood across his knuckles.
He remembered the first time Olive had kicked him.
Back then, there had been no enchanted boots. No dramatic performance. No audience.
Just a single kick.
One blow had nearly knocked several teeth loose.
Now, despite wearing magically reinforced footwear and striking with far more force, the damage was noticeably less.
It’s the androids, Roman thought quietly.
He relies on them for everything.
That wasn’t unusual.
Nearly every wealthy student at the academy owned androids. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
Personal assistants.
Bodyguards.
Servants.
Companions.
Machines that handled the countless inconveniences of everyday life, allowing their owners to grow accustomed to never relying on themselves.
Olive was no exception.
He kept two androids at his side at all times, using them as extensions of his own hands and feet.
Rumour even had it that he brought the maid android with him whenever he went to the restroom.
Roman, on the other hand, had never been able to afford even the cheapest scrap-grade android.
Never once.
That was precisely why he had spent years teaching himself everything they would have done for him.
While the academy’s young masters were being pampered by servants and sheltered behind machines, Roman had been training.
Martial arts.
Judo.
Kickboxing.
Boxing.
Anything he could learn with nothing more than stubborn determination and his own body.
He refused to become helpless simply because he had no one to rely on.
And yet...
Here he was.
Sitting on the ground.
Having taken a kick without raising a single hand in return.
Not because he couldn’t.
That was the part no one watching would ever understand.
Roman had replayed this exact scenario in his mind more times than he could count.
Olive was sloppy.
An amateur.
He fought like someone who had never once needed to struggle.
The two androids were another matter entirely.
They were powerful.
Fast.
Efficient.
But they were also bound by one absolute restriction.
They could restrain.
They could subdue.
They could protect.
But they could never kill a human being.
Not under any circumstances.
Roman could defeat all three of them.
He had very little doubt about that.
But winning the fight...
...was not the same as winning.
He had reported Olive to the academy authorities once.
Their response—
We are currently looking into the matter.
—had told him everything he needed to know about where he stood within this institution.
He had pursued other avenues afterward.
None of them had led anywhere.
There had even been one afternoon, roughly six months ago, when Olive had finally crossed a line Roman hadn’t realized still existed.
For a single moment...
Roman had made up his mind to kill him.
He had stopped himself.
Because standing behind Olive Miller was David Miller, one of the country’s most influential trading magnates.
And standing beside David was Olive’s older brother—
A True God.
A man whose flourishing world inside Godcraft Genesis generated resources worth fortunes in the real world, resources that had become the foundation of the Miller family’s enormous trading empire.
Two people who had spent Olive’s entire life ensuring that nothing he did ever carried consequences.
Roman had no such protection.
No family.
No influence.
No surname worth remembering.
Only a scholarship.
Thin as paper.
The single thread preventing him from falling back into the life he had struggled his entire existence to escape.
He simply could not afford to fight back.
The cost was too great.
And the calculation never changed.
Roman reached down, picked up his bag, dusted the dirt from it, and quietly walked beyond the academy gates.
