Chapter 119: I Was Wrong

"Right... maybe it was very unreasonable of me to begin with," I murmured, dropping my hands to my sides and shaking my head as if burdened by immense guilt.

A collective, desperate wave of relief washed over the classroom. Smirks began to twitch back onto their pale faces, several students visibly sagging against their desks as they eagerly jumped on the opening to brush it all under the rug.

"Exactly! It was just a joke, Wells!"

"Yeah, we were just messing around because you’ve been gone so long!"

"There’s really no need to take things that far, Brianna. We’re all classmates here, right?"

"It’s just harmless banter. Let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill!"

Tisha hastily cleared her throat, a sickeningly polite, appeasing smile trembling on her lips. "Yes, well... a mutual misunderstanding. If you’re willing to be mature about this, Brianna—"

A slow, dazzling smile spread across my face.

"Right," I interrupted smoothly, my tone as light and sweet as honeyed poison. "Who am I to pass judgment? After all, I’m just a student. A low-class, unawakened Omega from the slums shouldn’t be handing out punishments to noble high-borns. I’d much sooner just take this recording straight to the Student Disciplinary Committee and let the board carry out the judgment."

I turned on my heel toward the classroom door, tapping the little metallic pen against my collarbone.

"NO!"

The scream was an instantaneous, terrified chorus that practically blew the dust off the ceiling tiles—Kano, Jane, Stephanie, half the front rows, and Teacher Tisha all shouting in synchronized panic.

I looked down at the recording pen between my fingers, casually tossing it a few inches into the air and catching it with a smooth flick of my wrist.

Boy, this thing was ridiculously handy. Edgar definitely knew what he was doing when he had this prepared for me.

"Brianna, I will apologize," Teacher Tisha blurted out, her voice shrill, frantic, and stripped of every ounce of that earlier arrogance.

Cold sweat was visibly dripping down her temple as she stepped around the podium, her hands fluttering in desperate placation. "I’ll apologize for getting it all wrong and accusing you without evidence. And so will the rest of the class!"

I didn’t turn around immediately. I took two slow steps toward the door, let the silence stretch until they were practically suffocating on their own dread, and then smoothly pivoted back to face the room.

I leaned my hip against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest, and tilted my head. My eyes swept over Tisha’s trembling posture and the sea of pale, mortified faces before locking in.

For months, they bullied Brianna without a shred of remorse. But now, they were all at my mercy. I wasn’t going to play easy.

"Well?" I asked, my voice cool, dry, and sharp enough to draw blood. "Where’s the sincerity?"

Tisha swallowed hard, her manicured fingers digging so deep into her palms that her knuckles turned chalky white. She bowed her head—stiff, jerky, and radiating pure mortification—before the entire room of students she had spent months looking down on.

"I... I apologize, Brianna Wells," Tisha forced out through gritted teeth, her voice trembling with barely suppressed humiliation. "I acted without conducting a proper investigation and made baseless assumptions. It was completely improper of me."

"Louder," I said flatly, not moving an inch from the doorframe. "I have delicate ears, Teacher."

Veins pulsed along Tisha’s temples, but she knew the stakes. With the Tournament of Power approaching, the Student Disciplinary Committee was operating under wartime martial regulations; an official reprimand on her record would get her stripped of her credentials before the lunch bell rang.

"I apologize, Brianna!" Tisha yelled, her voice shrill and ringing across the floor tiles. "I was wrong!"

"Better," I murmured, my eyes drifting from her red face to the rest of the room. "Now... the rest of you."

Kano looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, his Alpha pride utterly shredded, while Jane and Stephanie looked on the verge of tears. But the terror of being dragged in front of the Disciplinary Committee was an absolute, suffocating leash.

One by one, muttering, choking on their own bile, they stammered out their apologies.

"Good," I smiled, pushing off the doorframe and walking back toward the center aisle. "Now, get to work. Hands and knees. Every drop of sauce, every scrap of garbage, every streak of grime. If I find a single speck of dirt on this floor when you’re done, I’ll walk straight to the disciplinary hall."

For the next forty-five minutes, the elite lackeys, high-ranking noble children, and proud Alphas were crawling across the linoleum, scrubbing rancid tomato paste and scooping up decomposing scraps with paper towels and wet rags.

The dead rat was carefully carried out in double-bagged plastic by one of Kano’s trembling minions, while Valentina sat rigidly in her seat, forced to inhale the stench of her own failed scheme.

Once the floor was buffed to a mirror shine, the second phase began: absolute, pin-drop silence as thirty students frantically scribbled five-thousand-word formal apology letters onto loose parchment. The furious scratching of pen nibs filled the air like a swarm of angry locusts.

I bet all of them were cursing me, but no matter. I was just helping them use their time wisely by writing, rather than creating trouble for an helpless student.

I sat leisurely at my desk, propping my chin in my hand as I flipped through a textbook, tapping the black metallic pen lightly against the polished wood.

Tisha cautiously stepped down from the podium, tiptoeing across the damp floor until she stopped beside my desk. She leaned down, keeping her voice to a desperate, hushed whisper.

"Brianna," Tisha murmured, forcing an appeasing, sickly-sweet grimace. "The classroom is spotless. The students are writing their apology essays as agreed. You have your justice. The recording... you can hand the pen over to me now, can’t you? It’s best if we consider this matter completely settled."

I stopped tapping the pen. Slowly, I lifted it up, letting the matte-black metal catch the fluorescent ceiling light before smoothly slipping it deep into my blazer’s inner pocket, right over my heart.

"Hand it over?" I chuckled softly, tilting my head back to look into her desperate eyes. "Oh, Teacher Tisha... don’t be ridiculous. I promised I wouldn’t take it to the Disciplinary Committee today. I never promised to delete it."

Tisha’s eyes bulged in pure panic. "You—! We had an agreement!"

"We made a bet, and you paid your forfeit," I whispered, my voice ice-cold and dripping with sharp amusement. "This little recording is my personal insurance. I’m going to hold on to it... Just to make sure nobody gets any wild, nostalgic ideas about stabbing me in the back the second I turn around."