My Taboo Harem! - Chapter 244 - 244: "Now, Scoot!"

—their expressions that came from realizing the faculty lounge gossip was about to become legend.

Five.

Vice Principal Ashworth’s smirk had widened into something that might generously be called a grin. The old man was enjoying this—probably more than his morning coffee and his secret stash of faculty scandals combined.

Six.

Seven.

Phei stepped onto the stage.

The polished wood creaked slightly under his weight—he was heavier now, denser with new muscle, his body transformed by the molting into something that barely resembled the skinny charity case of three weeks ago—something that made the stage itself seem to groan in acknowledgment.

He walked forward.

Slow. Deliberate. Each step eating the distance between them until he stood directly in front of Marcus.

Face to face.

Eye to eye.

And—this was the part that made several students in the audience actually gasp—taller.

Phei was taller than Marcus.

Not by much. Maybe five. But enough. Enough that Marcus had to angle his chin up slightly to maintain eye contact. Enough that the power dynamic everyone had assumed was sudden, visible, undeniably wrong—like watching the sun realize it had been orbiting the wrong planet all along.

The silence was absolute.

No whispers now. No rustling. No breathing, it seemed, from anyone in the building.

Just two apex predators standing on a stage, measuring each other with gazes that could have cut diamond.

Phones started to come out.

Slowly. Carefully. The way you’d draw a weapon in enemy territory—hoping not to be noticed, desperate to capture something that might never happen again—the kind of moment that would live rent-free in group chats for years.

Dozens of screens lifted.

Then Marcus glanced sideways.

Just a flick of those grey-silver eyes. A microsecond of attention. Not even a full look—more like a reminder.

A gentle, terrifying reminder that he noticed things, and that being noticed by Marcus when you were doing something he didn’t approve of was generally considered a Very Bad Idea—the bad idea that ended with your family name quietly erased from existence.

Most of the phones disappeared.

Sheepish hands sliding them back into pockets, faces flushing with embarrassment, students suddenly very interested in their own laps—like children caught stealing cookies from a jar guarded by a very disappointed god.

The fear was back.

Thicker now.

Because Marcus had reminded them who ruled here.

But not all of them.

The Main Legacies kept recording. The Immediate Legacies too. Because they had enough power to weather Marcus’s displeasure—or at least enough arrogance to pretend they did—and because they weren’t stupid enough to miss documenting what might be the most significant moment in Ashford’s recent history.

And besides—

The phones might have vanished, but the comparisons had already been made.

Every student in that auditorium had looked between Phei and Marcus. Had weighed them against each other. Had measured beauty against beauty, presence against presence, power against power.

And the verdict, whether anyone said it out loud or not, was hanging in the air like smoke after an explosion.

Phei was more handsome.

Godly handsome.

Taller.

Better built—that form, those shoulders, that perfect V-taper visible even through the uniform—the kind of build that made you wonder if God had finally decided to show favoritism.

Hot and cool simultaneously, which shouldn’t have been possible but somehow was—like fire wrapped in ice, or sin wrapped in salvation.

And that aura…

That aura that made you want to lean in. To get closer. To orbit him like a planet around a sun, even if you knew the heat would eventually burn you alive—and you’d thank him for the privilege while you charred.

Marcus was a king.

Everyone knew that.

But Phei—

Phei looked like something kings should kneel to.

Phei just smiled.

Slow.

Dangerous.

Unbothered.

The silence stretched.

One second. Two. Five.

An eternity compressed into a handful of heartbeats—heartbeats that belonged to him now, whether the owners admitted it or not.

Then Phei smiled wider.

Not a polite smile. Not a nervous smile. Not the smile of someone who had any intention of backing down or apologizing or explaining why he’d just committed what most students would consider social suicide.

A dangerous smile.

The smile of someone who held cards nobody else knew about and was about to play every single one—and watch the table burn while he collected the pot.

“Marcus,” he said.

His voice carried effortlessly through the auditorium—clear and warm and utterly confident, amplified by the natural acoustics of the space into something that reached every ear in the building—and settled in every chest like a claim.

“Thanks for the warm introduction.”

A beat.

A pause that somehow managed to be both respectful and deeply, fundamentally insolent—the kind of pause that said, “I could have let you finish, but why bother when I’m already better?”

“I’ll take it from here.”

Two thousand people held their breath.

The Council members exchanged panicked glances—

The teachers looked like they wanted to intervene but couldn’t remember how their legs worked—or if intervening would get them fired, promoted, or simply erased.

Vice Principal Ashworth was openly grinning now, his earlier boredom completely forgotten—the old bastard was practically popping popcorn in his head.

And Marcus—

Marcus’s silver eyes studied Phei for a long, unreadable moment.

His expression hadn’t changed. Not quite. Still that mask of cold perfection, still that untouchable composure that had made him legend. But something behind his eyes was… calculating. Reassessing. Recalibrating.

The Student Council President who bowed to no one except the Dean herself.

The heir to a name that made even the founding families recoil.

The boy who had ruled this little kingdom since the moment he’d arrived, whose word was law, whose displeasure was death, whose power had never once been questioned—

He had had enough of this nobody, he turned…

And—

Marcus’s mouth opened.

And Phei spoke first.

“Thanks for the warm-up, President. Now scoot.” His voice rolled through the microphone like honey and thunder combined—smooth, rich, carrying to every corner of that massive auditorium with an intimacy that made it feel like he was whispering directly into each listener’s ear—and making women the room wonder what else that voice could do in the dark.

The Charm Speech affected everyone.

Two thousand students leaned forward in their seats. Unconsciously. Helplessly. Like puppets whose strings had been pulled by a master who’d just announced himself—and who clearly enjoyed the tug.

Marcus’s eyes narrowed—in anger and in recognition. The recognition of someone who understood power when he saw it. Who could feel the shift in the room’s atmosphere like a change in pressure before a storm—the kind of storm that left crowns in the mud.

He didn’t step back.

But he didn’t interrupt either.

Smart, Phei thought. Very smart.

For now.

“I know this assembly was supposed to be about…” Phei paused, letting the silence stretch, letting every ear strain toward him—letting them taste how easily he could command the room Marcus had ruled for years.

“…whatever boring administrative changes the council had planned. New dress code policies? Cafeteria menu updates? Student parking regulations?”

A ripple of surprised laughter moved through the crowd—nervous at first, then genuine, laughter that came from realizing the untouchable had just been touched.

The teachers looked scandalized—like someone had farted in church and everyone pretended it smelled like roses.

The students looked delighted—like Christmas had come early and brought anarchy as a gift.

“But I have something more interesting to discuss.” Phei’s lips curved into that dangerous smile—the one that made girls forget their own names and boys forget they were supposed to hate him. “Something that actually matters.”

He turned slightly, letting his gaze sweep across the auditorium. Across the Main Legacies in the front row—Danton white-faced, Brett trembling with barely-contained rage, Anderson looking like he might actually vomit.

Across the middle sections where the Immediate Legacies sat with their phones still recording—because some habits died harder than dignity.

Across the upper tiers where the regular students watched with the hungry fascination of spectators at a gladiator match—finally seeing blood that wasn’t theirs.

His Dominance Aura pulsed outward.

Not visible. Never visible. But felt—a weight in the air, a pressure against the chest, that instinctive animal recognition of a predator in their midst—it didn’t roar; it just made you realize running was pointless.

Boys who met his eyes looked away first—and hated themselves for it.

Girls who met his eyes forgot to look away at all—and didn’t care.

“Basketball,” Phei said.

The word dropped into the silence like a stone into still water—or a grenade into a pillow fort.

“Specifically—” He paused again, timing perfect, showmanship immaculate—the kind that made you realize he’d been practicing this moment in his head for years. “—my debut on Ashford Elite Academy’s basketball team.”

The reaction was immediate.

Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd. Students exchanging glances, whispering questions, wondering if they’d heard correctly—if Phei had finally lost his mind or found his balls.

Phei? On the basketball team?

Since when does he play?

Is this a joke?

In the front row, the current basketball team members had gone rigid. Brett’s hands were clenched into fists—white-knuckled, trembling. Anderson’s face had drained of what little colour remained—looking like a ghost who’d just seen his own obituary. Kyle looked confused—but then, Kyle always looked confused. And Danton…

Danton was staring at Phei with an expression of pure, undiluted hatred—

Because Danton knew.

Phei never bluffed even when he was still a nobody!