The Black Market of Ideas.

On the upper floor, the door to the Director’s office was wide open.

Otto Adler stood before the Director’s desk, his hand resting on his cheek with an expression that blended annoyance and sarcastic admiration.

"Director," Otto said in a calm, polite voice, gesturing with his thumb toward the window overlooking the chaotic courtyard below. "Are you sure about your definition of 'Innovation'? Because what’s happening down there is closer to 'gang warfare' than a science fair. I have reports of seven cases of robbery by force, three cases of extortion, and a student trying to sell his own belongings to fund his project."

Gerhart turned a page of his old book without looking up.

"And did you intervene?" the Director asked coldly.

"Only in cases where public property was damaged," Otto replied, adjusting his silver disciplinary badge. "The law prohibits vandalism, but... it barely mentions anything regarding 'intellectual property' between students."

"Exactly." Gerhart finally closed the book and looked at Otto. "Otto, you know the law better than anyone. The law protects 'Order', it does not protect 'Idiots'. If a student cannot protect his invention from theft here, how will he protect it in the real market? Or from major corporations?"

Otto smiled that smile that never reached his eyes.

"So... you’re saying that 'theft' is merely a 'security test' that the victim failed?"

"I’m saying chaos teaches lessons faster than books." Gerhart sipped his coffee. "Let them cheat. Let them steal. In the end, only real work survives the 'Jury' at the university... or your 'committee' on the outside."

Otto bowed slightly. "Understood. I will ensure the cheating is... organized."

In the outer courtyard, the situation was worse.

Two groups of students (about ten people) stood facing each other. The screaming was deafening.

"We stole the blueprint first!" shouted the leader of the first group, holding a device that looked like a turbine.

"But we stole the parts to assemble it!" retorted the leader of the second group, sparks flying from his hands. "The device is ours!"

A battle was about to erupt. Fire abilities against sound abilities.

Suddenly, everyone felt an immense heaviness.

It wasn't psychological weight. It was physical. The air became heavy as lead. The turbine they were fighting over fell from their hands, hit the ground, and then... crumbled.

The complex metal device turned into a flat disk of scrap in a single second, as if an invisible giant had stepped on it.

Silence fell. Everyone looked slowly toward a side bench.

Tertius was sitting there, reading a magazine, his left hand extended lazily toward them, his fingers making a slight pressing motion.

"Annoying..." Tertius whispered without looking at them. "You both have the same stolen project. So, the outcome is zero for both sides."

"You... you destroyed it!" one student screamed in horror. "How will we participate now?!"

Tertius raised his amber eyes slowly.

"You can participate with a research paper on 'The Effect of Central Gravity on Student Stupidity'," he said coldly. "Now scatter before I increase the pressure."

The two groups fled instantly, leaving the crushed scrap behind.

In a quieter corner, behind the laboratory building.

A "Proto Star" student—intelligent, not physically weak but currently hiding—clutched his invention (a small drone). He was shivering, afraid to go out into the courtyard where the "monsters" were stealing everything.

"You look worried, my friend."

The student jumped in fright.

Sirius Astrum leaned against the wall beside him, his brown hair shining under the sun. His turquoise eyes scanned the drone with a commercial smile.

"S... Sirius? From Disciplinary?"

"In the flesh," Sirius said, approaching with a step so fast the student didn't notice. "It’s dangerous out there, isn't it? One steals, another cheats, and someone crushes."

"Y-yes..."

"That’s why, as a representative of Disciplinary, I offer you an exclusive deal," Sirius leaned in, whispering. "'Express Security Escort Service'. I get you and your invention to the registration gate at the university tomorrow... untouched."

"Really? You’ll protect me?" The student's face brightened.

"Of course. Protection is my duty," Sirius smiled, then moved his fingers as if holding a pen (writing a name). "But 'Speed' and 'Guarantee'? Those are premium add-ons. Let's say... 20% of the prize value if you win? Or write my name on it now?"

The student looked at his invention, then at Sirius.

"Deal!"

"A winning deal," Sirius patted his shoulder, then vanished suddenly, reappearing at the corner of the corridor, waving. "Wait for me here tomorrow. And if anyone tries to rob you... scream loudly."

Sirius left whistling, leaving the student realizing too late that he had been extorted... but in a completely legal way... perhaps?

At the same time, while some were extorting, others were making deals.

Don Altair’s office at the academy was completely different from the Director’s chaotic office.

It resembled a luxury real estate showroom. Modern furniture, warm and studied lighting, and the scent of expensive coffee filling the air.

On the plush leather sofa sat three students. Not bullies, nor eccentric geniuses. They were "diligent" students, the type who memorize books by heart but lack creativity... and desperately need money and grades.

Don stood before them, wearing his elegant suit and favorite light blue shirt, the perfect "Salesman" smile on his face.

"I’ll be frank with you," Don said, placing three thick files on the table in front of them. "You are good students. Your grades are excellent. But do you have a chance to win tomorrow’s fair against the 'Maniacs' or the 'Geniuses'?"

The students exchanged frustrated glances and shook their heads.

"Exactly. Innovation requires talent, or madness. And you are... normal," Don said it as if it were a virtue, not a flaw. "But, don't worry. I am here to sell you... I mean, grant you 'Tools of Success'."

Don opened a metal briefcase beside him.

Inside were advanced parts, ready-made blueprints, and rare materials a normal student couldn't afford.

"This is your project," Don pointed to the contents. "A power generator based on metabolic efficiency. The design is ready. The parts are ready. All you have to do is assemble it according to the instructions, and stand tomorrow to say: 'We made this'."

"But teacher..." one asked hesitantly. "Why give us this? And what do you want in return?"

Don’s smile widened.

"I don't want the prize. And I don't want the medal. I want the 'Rule'," Don said, his eyes gleaming with quiet greed.

"The Rule?"

"Yes. When you win... and that is guaranteed because I designed the device... you will propose a new rule for the academy. A very simple rule."

Don leaned toward them, lowering his voice as if sharing a sacred secret.

"The rule is: 'Adoption of Teacher Don Altair’s special textbook series as the sole and mandatory source for all subjects, exclusively purchased from his office'."

The students fell silent in astonishment.

"Will... will you force the whole school to buy your books?"

"Not force, but 'unify the source' to ensure quality," Don corrected brazenly. "And in return? The three of you get full marks in my subject this year, plus..."

He pulled out a calculator, typed a number, then showed them the screen.

"...5% of sales profits for each of you."

The students gasped when they saw the projected number. In a school of thousands, 5% was a fortune for teenagers.

"Do we have a deal?" Don extended his hand.

The students didn't hesitate. "Deal!"

Don shook their hands one by one.

"Excellent. Now take the box, assemble it tonight, and make sure to memorize the script I wrote for you to present to the judges. Not a word about me. You are the inventors."

The students left carrying the box enthusiastically, dreaming of money and grades.

Don closed the door behind them, returning to sit behind his desk.

He took a sip of his coffee, looking at his empty office wall, imagining rows of his books selling like hot cakes.

"True innovation..." Don whispered to himself as he reviewed the expected profit margins, "...is making others pay you to build your glory. I knew making special books for all subjects existed for this moment."

He looked at his smartwatch.

"Tomorrow... will be harvest day."

In the main corridor, the "Boy with the Red Streak" walked amidst the noisy human stream.

The bandage around his neck attracted some stares, but at "Auroralis," injuries were just daily accessories.

The world around him was unbearably loud. Deals being struck, threats being launched, and sounds of small explosions from failed projects. But he, for the first time, was isolated from this noise in his bubble of forced silence. However, he felt something strange as he looked around, then looked at his hand.

(I'm still storing energy...) He looked out the window, seeing a war about to start between two groups.

(I want to stay in the dorm, but I still feel that sensation like I'm in conflict, even though no collision has happened.)

"Hey! You!"

A skinny student jumped in front of him, holding a small box with exposed wires.

"You look like someone who appreciates power!" the student said quickly, eyeing The boy  bandage. "I have a portable 'Adrenaline Inducer' here. Put it on your arm, and pain will feel like a tickle! Only 200 units! It's perfect for your injury!"

The boy stopped. He looked at the student. Then he looked at the "junk" device which was clearly just an old battery connected to a rusty needle.

(Do I look that stupid?)

The boy opened his mouth to say: "Get out of my face," but remembered.

He closed his mouth.

Instead of speaking, he narrowed his brown eyes sharply, and took one step toward the student, exerting silent pressure. He didn't need an ability. His body language clearly said: I am not a customer. I am a disaster.

The skinny student backed away, his smile fading. "Uh... okay, maybe later." And ran off.

The boy continued walking.

At the corner, he found a familiar figure sitting on the floor, back against the wall, messing with a handheld gaming console. He was different from the rest; he wore a red hoodie.

The "Boy in the Red Hoodie" raised his head lazily, his dark blue eyes scanning The boy. He didn't seem surprised by the bandage.

"Oh, it's you," the boy said with boredom, then returned to the screen. "So your jacket was indeed for this academy."

The boy with the red streak kicked the other boy's shoe lightly.

"Don't try to deny it, silence is a sign of consent," the boy smiled a cold, crooked smile. Then he nodded toward a cardboard box beside him labeled "Project".

The boy looked curiously.

"Got it as a gift," the boy in the red hoodie explained. "Says it's a 'Jamming Device'."

The boy raised an eyebrow questioningly: (Does it work?)

"Don't know, haven't tried it," the boy in the red hoodie shrugged. "From a trusted source."

The boy with the red streak sighed (soundlessly).

(Innovation Fair... huh?)

He touched his bandage.

(Everyone is planning how to win tomorrow... Should I support Kai? Most likely his rule will be useful to me.)

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day.

The noise turned into a stampede toward the exits.

The boy with the red streak looked at the hoodie boy.

(Thinking he is a student here, but why is he allowed not to wear the uniform?)

"Everything is allowed if you know Nyctopolis. Also, I have a uniform... in the bag." The boy in the red hoodie stood up, ignoring the sharp glare from the other boy.

(Nyctopolis again... Also, that orange article mentioning Utopia, but I haven't heard of anything like this... Nyctopolis, Utopia, The Nova Event... Should I just ask Teacher Don? With money, his mouth is open.)