Chapter 3 || A Part-time Job

Chapter 3: 3 || A Part-time Job

From the back seat of the first row.

Caden slammed his fist on the desk. "Are you saying we’re slaves now? I can’t possibly—"

Code 11’s head snapped toward him. "I believe you’re Caden."

He froze, sweat breaking across his forehead. His voice changed instantly into a forced, respectful tone.

"Yes."

"Well, Caden," Code 11 said, each syllable cutting, "you seem to have a problem with becoming a slave. But you’re a Grent. It’s not a suggestion. It’s an order. And in Ordinis orders aren’t debated. They’re executed."

Caden’s throat bobbed as he tried to argue, but Code 11’s voice cut him down like a blade.

"Take being a slave as a privilege, not a punishment. Perhaps then, you’ll give it your all in serving your masters."

Caden sank into his seat, staring blankly at the table.

His voice was a whisper no one was meant to hear."A slave... I can’t believe this."

Code 11 continued. "Your masters will be assigned to you soon. But first..."

She snapped her finger.

Suddenly, black smart watches shot out from the desks, clamping tightly around the students’ wrists like cuffs.

Gasps filled the room as everyone stared at their new watches.

"These watches monitor your vitals," Code 11 explained. "If any of you fall sick, the authorities will know immediately and act accordingly."

The boy in front of Caden— dark ash-brown hair and gray-blue eyes frowned.

"And what happens if we actually do get sick?"

Caden muttered, "Obviously we go to the school infirmary—"

"No," Code 11 interrupted coldly. "You may go to the infirmary, but the time you waste there will be accounted for. As slaves, your masters depend on you to serve them and their belongings. If you waste their time, they may make you work overtime."

"You’ve got to be kidding me!" Ken who sat at the next row beside Caden blurted out.

"That," Code 11 said, her voice sharp as steel, "is your life as slaves in this academy."

She gestured toward the box on her desk. "For your school activities and class schedules—come forward and collect yours."

The students hesitated but eventually moved one by one. Each reached inside the box. To their surprise, they pulled out phones. Sleek, black, and heavy.

They returned to their seats, staring down at the devices.

Code examined his carefully, eyes narrowing.

"Those phones contain your credentials," Code 11 continued.

"Each one has been registered to your name. In this academy, students are judged by ratings. Power on your phones, and you’ll see your profile and your rating as Grents."

The classroom filled with the glow of dozens of screens.

Everyone’s screen displayed ★ 1.

Code’s phone lit up with his profile—name, class, picture, and so on.

"You will also earn ratings from your masters," Code 11 said. "Do your work well, and they’ll increase your standing. Fail... and they won’t."

She snapped her fingers, and a large screen appeared on the wall, displaying all their names followed by a column showing their slave rating stars, which were apparently...blank.

"This is your standings for now," she said. "Seeing as you’ve just arrived, that’s acceptable."

Code’s eyes studied the screen.

’So our ratings depend on our masters. That determines our standings. This is how we’re meant to live here... Not as students. Just slaves to our masters.’

His gaze shifted to Code 11, then narrowed faintly.

’And to the Obedience Code.’

Before he could sink deeper into that thought, Code 11’s cold voice cut through the silence.

"This rating," she said, her tone sharp like a blade, "may as well determine the type of treatment you will receive during your stay in this academy."

Aria frowned slightly, whispering under her breath."Treatment...?"

Code 11’s piercing eyes scanned the room."Your rating determines the quality of what you can buy at the canteen, the mall, and other academic resources."

Caden’s lips curled into a grin. He leaned towards the boy with black hair in front of him.

"Do you hear that, Torin? We can buy things for free!"

Torin shook his head. "I get that... but if our ratings are low, the quality will be trash. I’d rather take quality over quantity."

Their voices were cut off by Code 11.

"Who said anything about buying free things?"

Both boys froze, their faces drained of color.

At the third row behind Lily, a girl raised her hand calmly.

She had amber-gold eyes, long layered honey-blond hair with one side partially tucked behind her ear, and a silver metallic star clip holding that side in place.

Her tone was sweet, almost melodic. "Code 11... can I please call you ma’am?" She smiled softly. "It feels disrespectful to just call you ’11.’"

Code 11’s gaze turned on her, cold and sharp. "I prefer to be called Code 11."

"But... as a teacher, that feels wrong," the girl pressed gently. "I think I’ll call you ma’am or Miss 11."

Lily turned in panick."Ivy... I don’t think you’re allowed to do that. Not everyone is as sweet as you."

Ivy turned, her soft honey-golden hair swaying, and flashed Lily a carefree smile.

"But we can’t just call her ’11’."

Lily’s voice trembled. "What if it’s against the rules? You saw what happened to Ben."

Ivy shook her head lightly, still smiling. "I don’t think that’s against the rules."

She turned back to Code 11, her eyes glittering. "Isn’t that right, Miss 11?"

For a long moment, Code 11 just stared at her. The entire class held its breath.

The air felt charged, like lightning about to strike.

Finally, Code 11’s voice cut through the tension. "No. It’s not against the rules."

Ivy’s smile widened, warm and unshaken. "Then I shall call you Miss 11."

Code watched her quietly.

"Fine," Code 11 said flatly. "Now, Ivy... is there anything else you would like to say."

"Yes, ma’am." Ivy’s voice carried that same sweetness.

"You said we can’t get things for free. So what do we use for purchase? The school didn’t allow us to bring any money."

Code 11’s eyes narrowed."That’s why you will all work... as slaves."

The words stabbed through the silence. A chilling wave swept the classroom.

"Now," Code 11’s tone deepened, "tell me. What happens when a worker, or a cleaner, does their job well?"

Ivy hesitated, then answered softly, "They... get paid their salaries."

"Correct." Code 11’s voice continued.

"The same will happen here. Your masters will not only assign you ratings... they will also pay you your salaries."

The class erupted into whispers.

Code looked at code 11.

Code 11’s sharp voice silenced the whispers.

"You all have to work for your money. If you don’t work, you don’t get paid. And if you don’t get paid... you starve."

The blue haired boy stood up again, his chair screeching against the floor.

"Ma’am—our masters! The ones we’re supposed to work for. Who are they exactly? Politicians? School authorities? We need to know!"

"Your masters," Code 11 said calmly, "are students."

The class erupted in chaos.

"What?!" the boy shouted. "Students?! You mean... like us?! How do you expect us to serve students like us? Doesn’t this academy run on equality? Or... does equality not exist here at all?"

Everyone nodded, voices rising in agreement.

"The only equals I see here," she said coldly, "are the Grents. Those above you are not your equals. They are your masters. They are superior."

The silence was suffocating.

Her gaze rested on Lily. "And if anyone still wants to test me, it wouldn’t hurt to lower the headcount of the Grents class by one. Don’t you think so... Lily?"

Lily trembled, her face pale.

She didn’t dare look up."...Y-yes, ma’am."

The blue haired boy clenched his fists, trying to speak, but Ivy’s soft voice cut through the tension.

"It’s alright, Juro. Let it be."

She smiled faintly, her calmness shining against the storm. "Talking and arguing won’t change anything."

Juro exhaled sharply, pushing his glasses up. "...Fine." He sat back down.

Code 11’s voice echoed again. "Concerning your masters, their names will be sent to your phones soon. So I wouldn’t worry about that."

Aria glanced down at her phone and stared at her one star rating.

"For the record, this isn’t an academic schedule," Code 11’s tone hardened. "

"This is your job. A way for you to earn money and survive here. In other words... this is your part-time job."