In the old timeline—the one where he'd been a week further into this particular hell—he remembered this moment. Or something like it. The details had been fuzzy when he'd tried to reconstruct the week, but now it was crystallizing with painful clarity.
This was one of the Tuesday incidents. The one he'd forgotten because the theft accusation had overshadowed it.
Brett stuffing garbage in his locker. The whole school watching. Phei had just... taken it. Cleaned up the mess while everyone laughed. Kept his head down. Survived.
That's what the old Phei would have done.
But the old Phei hadn't spent five hours claiming his aunt as property. Hadn't felt a woman shatter beneath him while he whispered commands into her ear. Hadn't woken up this morning and ground through thirty-five minutes of agony just to earn a single stat point.
The old Phei was dead. Had died on that rooftop a week ago—or a week from now, depending on how you counted.
Brett's grin flickered.
It was small. Just a micro-expression, there and gone. But Phei caught it—a flash of uncertainty crossing that handsome face, the instinctive recognition of something that didn't match expectations.
"What's the matter, Brett?" Phei's voice came out steady. Calm. The Charm Speech wasn't active—that had expired hours ago—but he didn't need it. He just needed to not sound like a victim. "Garbage duty not paying well enough? Had to outsource to my locker?"
The crowd went quiet.
That wasn't the script. The charity case was supposed to stammer, apologize, clean up the mess while everyone laughed. He wasn't supposed to talk back. Wasn't supposed to stand there looking at Brett like Brett was the one who'd done something embarrassing.
Brett's eyes narrowed. "What did you just say to me?"
"I asked about your job." Phei didn't raise his voice. Didn't need to. "Collecting garbage, stuffing it in lockers. Seems like a lot of effort for a Monday morning. Must be exhausting, doing all that work just to get a reaction."
Someone in the crowd snorted. Quickly stifled.
Brett's face darkened. He took a step forward, closing the distance, using his height advantage to loom. "You think you're funny, charity case? Think because your aunt married money, you can talk to me like that?"
"I think you put garbage in my locker and expected me to cry about it." Phei held his ground. Met Brett's eyes directly. "I'm just wondering what that says about how you spend your mornings. Must not have much else going on."
"You're dead." Brett's voice dropped low. "If you..."
"Garbage," Phei interrupted, saying the word again as if he could not believe what was happening. His voice came out calm. Level. The Charm Speech making even that single word carry weight, cut through the laughter and the chatter. "That's your move? After this morning, the best you could come up with was garbage?"
The laughter faltered.
Brett's grin flickered. "What?"
"I embarrass you in front of everyone." Phei took a step forward, closing the distance. "Make you move out of my way like you were nothing. And your revenge is... a bag of trash?" He shook his head slowly. "That's sad, Brett. That's actually pathetic."
Silence. The crowd had gone quiet, sensing the shift.
A girl to his left—the dark-haired one who'd turned when he spoke earlier—was staring at him with parted lips. The blonde next to her had her hand pressed to her chest.
"Watch your mouth," Brett said, but his voice had lost some of its swagger. The Dominance Aura was working on him, that invisible pressure making his instincts scream back off even as his pride demanded he stand his ground.
"Or what?" Phei stepped closer again. Close enough now that Brett had to look slightly up to meet his eyes. "You'll put more garbage in my locker? Trip me in the hallway? Maybe get your mate Danton to help plan something actually clever next time?"
He said it loud enough for the crowd to hear. Loud enough for Danton, still lurking at the edge of the circle, to know he'd been clocked.
Brett's face went red. "I don't know what you're—"
"He's right there." Phei jerked his head toward where Danton stood. "Watching. Making sure his little show goes off properly. Did you come up with this yourself, or did he have to hold your hand through the whole thing?"
Murmurs from the crowd. Heads turning toward Danton, who'd gone very still.
"You think you're clever?" Brett's voice rose, cracking slightly. "You think because you got lucky this morning, things have changed? You're still nothing, Maxton. You're still the charity case. Still the family reject everyone pretends doesn't exist."
"Maybe." Phei held his ground. "But I'm the reject who made you step aside this morning. And I'm the reject who's going to make you regret this."
"Yeah?" Brett got in his face now, close enough that Phei could smell his breath, see the vein pulsing in his temple. "How? What are you gonna do about it?"
The Dominance Aura pulsed. Brett's hands were shaking slightly—not from fear, not consciously, but his body knew something his mind refused to accept.
"After school," Phei said, voice dropping low. "Parking lot. Just you and me. We settle this properly."
Brett blinked. Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't that.
"Sure." Phei shrugged, ignoring the screaming protest from his shoulders. "Bring whoever you want. I'll be there."
He turned back to his locker, dismissing Brett as cleanly as if he'd closed a door.
"Hey!" Brett's hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him back around. "I'm not done talking to—"
Phei looked down at the hand on his shoulder. Then up at Brett's face. Very slowly. Very deliberately.
"Remove your hand."
The words came out quiet. Cold. Carrying an edge that surprised even Phei.
Brett's grip loosened. Not releasing, but… uncertain.
"I said remove it."
For a long moment, nothing happened. The crowd held its breath. Brett's jaw worked, his pride warring with something he couldn't name—that instinct screaming back off even as his ego demanded he double down.
Then his hand dropped.
"You want to fight me?" A laugh burst out of him, incredulous. "You? The guy who's never thrown a punch in his life?"
"Guess you'll find out if that's true."
"You're insane." But Brett was smiling now, a different kind of smile. The kind that said Christmas came early. "Parking lot. After school. Don't be late."
He stepped back, gesturing to Anderson and Kyle. "Come on. Let him clean up his present."
They walked away, the crowd parting for them, already buzzing with what they'd just witnessed. Brett threw one last look over his shoulder—triumphant, anticipating—before disappearing around the corner.
Danton had already gone. Slipped away during the confrontation, probably not wanting to be associated with what was coming next. Plausible deniability maintained.
Phei stood there, the smell of garbage still thick in the air, his books ruined, his locker a disaster.
But he was smiling.
Small. Cold. Private.
"Are you okay?"
He turned. The dark-haired girl was still there, the one who'd been watching. Up close, she was prettier than he'd registered—delicate features, brown eyes with flecks of gold, her shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the hollow of her throat.
"I'm fine," Phei said, and the Charm Speech made even that simple reassurance sound warm. Intimate. Like he was letting her in on a secret.
She flushed slightly. "That was… I mean, what they did was horrible. Do you want help cleaning it up?"
"I've got it. But thanks."
"I'm Maya." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm in your AP Lit class. I sit, um, two rows up?"
He'd never noticed her before. Never noticed anyone before, really. But he noticed her now—the way she was leaning slightly toward him, the way her eyes kept dropping to his lips when he spoke.
Daddy's Ability. The pull that made young women respond to positive impressions. Two or three interactions and she'd start feeling that inexplicable draw.
This was one.
"Phei," he said, even though she obviously already knew. "Nice to meet you, Maya."
"You too." Her blush deepened. "I should—I have class. But, um. Good luck? After school, I mean. With the… thing."
"Thanks."
She hurried away, glancing back once before disappearing into the crowd.
Phei turned back to his locker. The garbage. The ruined books. The mess he was going to have to deal with before second period.
But underneath the immediate problems, his mind was already racing ahead.
3:30 PM. Parking lot. Brett.
His body was wrecked from training. Brett had been boxing since middle school, wrestling since before that. On paper, this was suicide.
But backing down would undo everything. Would prove to everyone—to Brett, to Danton, to every person who'd watched that confrontation—that his defiance was hollow. That he was still the same charity case who folded when pushed.
He had five hours to figure out how to survive a fight he couldn't win.
Or find a way to win it anyway.
Phei grabbed some paper towels from the nearby bathroom and started cleaning out his locker, his muscles screaming, his mind calculating.
Five hours.
The Dragon had drawn blood this morning.
Now he had to learn how to bite.
[DING! SOCIAL ENCOUNTER: ESCALATION]
[Brett has issued formal challenge]
[Time until confrontation: 5 hours, 14 minutes]
[Current physical stats: Below opponent]
[Mission Generated: Fight and win Brett your archenemy]
[Rewards: Cool Aura and Basketball 60% skills, 15 Charm Points!]