A crisp bell rang.
A woman with golden hair tied into a bun entered the classroom.
Her fair face carried a charming flush, and her deep blue eyes were as mesmerizing as stars. A simple black dress failed to hide her devilish curves as her high heels clicked against the floor.
Every eye locked onto her.
Ninth graders were at that hormone-driven, precocious age. In an open country like America, many at this age were already "experienced."
The gorgeous teacher's expression was stern, her face tight and professional, projecting a clear aura of don't come near me. This was Dia-the chemistry teacher and the school's most famous beauty.
She was the dream girl of every male student.
"Class is in session!"
No nonsense.
Dia began her lecture.
She was strict and old-fashioned, but her teaching was flawless. Once, Ryden had been a fanboy too-and he still was. But unlike his classmates, he was a man with ambition.
A real man should get rich first, then talk about feelings.
And why settle for one? If one wasn't enough, he'd take a crowd.
The classroom was silent.
The girls watched with envy. The boys drifted into fantasy.
Ryden used to just stare because she was eye candy. Now, he had a plan.
While others were only thinking, he was ready to act.
He'd marry her. Then he wouldn't just look, but... heh.
He turned his head toward two boys in the fourth row.
Their faces were dotted with teenage acne. But where were their hands? Why weren't they on the desk?
Were they cold? Why the rubbing?
Was it friction for heat? Was the room really that cold?
And why did the two creeps look so satisfied?
Realization hit.
Ryden shuddered in disgust.
Then his "rascal" side surfaced.
He quietly pulled a leather glove from his bag. The palm was lined with electromagnets. At close range, it could knock someone out-a perfect anti-harasser tool for women.
But that wasn't the point.
At the center was a miniature electromagnetic launcher holding two tiny steel balls.
He hid his left hand beneath his right and clicked a button.
A surge of current fired an electromagnetic pulse.
Ryden aimed his palm at the two "friction-loving" students.
The steel balls launched at a speed invisible to the naked eye, tracing perfect arcs through the air before landing squarely on their respective "target zones."
"Ouch!"
"Ah!"
A scream and a groan rang out at the same time.
Normally, it wouldn't have mattered. But Dia's class was always dead silent.
The strange sounds drew everyone's attention.
Dia looked over, puzzled.
"Rocca, Bant, is something wrong? If you're unwell, go to the nurse."
"N-no, Teacher, I'm fine," Rocca said.
He was a tall, chubby white boy. His face was beet red.
He didn't know why, but it felt like someone had slapped him... there. The shock scared him so badly he almost peed himself. His pants already felt damp.
Beside him, Bant-a scrawny mixed-race kid-kept his head down.
He was worse off.
He'd been completely "in the zone" when the hit landed, and he actually had peed his pants. He felt nothing down there now. Just cold numbness.
The students nearby wrinkled their noses as the smell spread.
The two boys wanted to disappear. Their faces were redder than a monkey's butt.
"If you're fine, pay attention," Dia said calmly. "Let's turn to the last page-the elemental composition of the human body."
She didn't press the issue.
Her focus was purely academic.
Beside Ryden, Terrence struggled to hold in his laughter. He gave Ryden a thumbs-up under the table.
Only this science whiz-this total rascal with a streak of justice-could pull something like that off.
Terrence was grateful.
In this era, Black people faced heavy discrimination. Rocca and Bant were the grade's bullies.
Rocca's father was a high-ranking officer. His mother worked in government. A classic nepo baby who loved tormenting others.
At fifteen years old and nearly two hundred pounds, he was the very definition of bloated with privilege.
Ryden slipped the glove back into his bag like nothing had happened.
It was just a whim.
But if Rocca ever found out, there'd be hell to pay.
In terms of strength, Ryden was no match for that tub of lard.
His gaze drifted back to the teacher's devilish silhouette beneath her dress.
Her professional status only amplified her charm.
No normal man could keep his heart steady in front of that.
Starting from scratch was hard. He needed to pick up the pace.
At the very least, he needed a goal.
First, he'd lose that "shameful virgin hat."
No. He meant he'd get rich and study.
Yes.
Study.
In American schools, an hour-long class was split between theory and lab work. Hands-on skill was mandatory.
Students worked in groups with alcohol lamps, test tubes, and assorted powders.
If you were bold enough, you could even try making something... explosive.
While Ryden's group was making detergent, the "bad student" Rocca was roasting a sausage over an alcohol lamp.
He'd turned chemistry into a BBQ.
"Teacher," Ryden said suddenly, "if we add some 'Element X' to Solution No. 3 and raise the temperature to three thousand degrees, could we simulate micro-nuclear fusion?"
A flash of insight struck him.
So that's how Tony Stark built the reactor.
His groupmates immediately jumped back.
"Ryden, what are you doing? You want to blow us into the sky?"
"Hey, man," Terrence said nervously, already used to Ryden's dangerous experiments. "Talk it out. Put the test tube down first."
Dia pushed up her gold-rimmed glasses and thought for a moment.
She didn't mind the dangerous question.
Her focused expression carried an intellectual charm, while her dress seemed to cling even tighter to her curves.
Two extreme vibes blended seamlessly.
The boys in class gulped.
They were completely smitten.
She really was the dream girl of thousands.
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