CHAPTER 39: GRAVEL BENEATH THE ELITE

Crimson Vale Academy Sports Festival

200m Girls – Pre-Race Tension

At Class D’s canopy, the air was heavy. Tension sat like a storm cloud above their heads.

Kairon stood quietly under the shade, arms loosely folded. The wind played gently with his uniform jacket, but his expression was unreadable—as always.

Aria walked up beside him, her arms crossed tightly as she glanced at the field.

"I don’t think Kei can run anymore," she said, breaking the silence. "He’s exhausted. His ankle’s probably worse than he’s letting on."

Kairon didn’t even look at her.

"It seems our manpower has been reduced," he said calmly, as if reading the result of a math problem. "We’re going to lose."

Aria turned sharply to him, frustration creeping into her voice. "How can you say that so freely... without even flinching? Don’t you care? If we lose, we lose class points."

Kairon’s gaze didn’t waver. "You’ve been with me all this time," he said, "and you still don’t understand me."

"What do you mean?"

He turned toward her. His eyes—icy and calm—locked onto hers. "I’m not interested in getting to Class S. I’m fine just the way I am in Class D."

Her eyes widened. "What...?" she whispered to herself. Is he serious? We’ve been speaking since first term... and yet I still don’t truly understand him? She looked at him again, trying to read something—anything—off his face. But Kairon remained like still water. Untouchable. Indecipherable.

He’s okay with being called a loser? Even if it ruins his chances of joining any top institute after graduation? That can’t be it. There’s something deeper...

Aria cleared her throat, trying to shake off the weight pressing against her chest. "Anyway... the next race is the 200 meters for girls."

"Are you going to represent the class?" Kairon asked.

"No," she shook her head. "There’s a gap in the list. Sena’s running this one."

"Sena, huh." Kairon’s voice was quiet again. "You should probably memorize the roster for each event. You’ll need to stay updated."

"I’ll do that," Aria muttered.

Then she lowered her head. "We should warn Sena to be careful around Class C."

"That’s true," Kairon agreed. "Class C’s strategy is clear now—they’re targeting the runners of every class."

"Isn’t that cheating?"

"In a normal sport event, yes," Kairon replied. "But with Ren bribing the referee, don’t expect justice."

"Then we need to report it to the school!"

"You’re not thinking straight," Kairon said sharply. He grabbed her lightly by the front of her shirt and tapped her forehead.

"Hey!" she yelped. "What was that for?"

"To bring you back to your senses."

"I don’t get it."

"In Crimson Vale," Kairon said, stepping back, "the only judgment that matters comes from the Student Council. The school doesn’t interfere. They are judge, jury, and executioner here."

Aria blinked. "Then... if I want to report something, I should go to Kael? My brother?"

"No," Kairon said without hesitation.

"Why not?"

"Yes, this is cheating. But think about it—if your class can only win because another was disqualified for cheating, do you truly deserve to join Class S?"

She opened her mouth to respond... but no words came out. He had a point.

"I guess... you’re right," she said finally.

"I thought so," Kairon said, turning back to the field.

Aria bit her lip and reviewed the leaderboard in her head.

Gold = 10 points

Silver = 6 points

Bronze = 3 points

Fourth = 1 point

"Right now... Class D has two golds and one bronze. That’s 23 points."

Kairon listened, silent.

"Class A has one gold and three bronzes—16 points. Class C has two silvers and a fourth—13. Class B... one silver and two fourths. Just 8 points."

She exhaled. "We’re in the lead."

"Class B is last," Kairon observed.

"I wonder how Lizzy feels," Aria said softly.

"She’ll keep them together," Kairon answered. "That’s her strength. Morale."

"But morale won’t win you races," Aria countered.

Kairon smiled faintly. "True. But it shows her strength in leadership. And sometimes, morale does more than people think."

"If they lose, it’s just false hope."

"That’s where you’re wrong."

Kairon’s voice turned firm.

"Science says a bumblebee shouldn’t be able to fly. Its wings are too small. Its body too heavy. But it flies anyway... not because it breaks science. But because science hasn’t caught up."

He looked at the field, wind brushing his bangs aside.

"Science explains what should happen. But humans... don’t follow logic. We fall, we bleed, we rise when we shouldn’t. Morale—hope—it’s not measurable. But it moves people in ways no formula can."

He looked her in the eyes now.

"If you want to succeed... never be just scientific. Be real."

Aria was speechless.

Then—

The speaker crackled to life.

"Next event: Girls 200 Meter Dash!"

---

The Runners:

Class A: Elise

Class B: Nero

Class C: Selene

Class D: Sena

---

Sena jogged to the edge of the track, warming her shoulders, her feet bouncing. Her teammates stood nearby.

"You got this, girl!" Yua shouted, waving a towel over her head.

"Rock that track!" Rika yelled.

Sena smiled. "I’ll do my best."

Aria stepped forward. "Good luck. But be careful around Selene. Class C... isn’t playing fair."

"I know," Sena said calmly. "But thanks."

Then Ivy rushed in and gave her a quick hug. "We believe in you."

Sena’s heart felt full. "Thank you."

Just as she turned to go, Kei limped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You better not lose," he grinned. "Not to cheaters."

Sena laughed. "I won’t."

She headed for the starting line.

---

Under the Class D canopy, Kairon watched.

Meira appeared beside him. "It’s Sena’s turn already?"

"I guess so."

She smiled. "Looks like you and Aria are close now. Some people even think you’re a couple."

Kairon said nothing. Just a glance.

"I know you won’t answer. You’re always unreadable," she said. "Still, I’m surprised Aria became friends with you and not Ivy."

"Me too," Kairon murmured.

"With that calm face, I doubt you’re actually surprised."

Kairon remained silent.

"I’ll be heading to fencing soon," she added. "Apparently, it’s starting the same time as this race but at a different location."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

She turned to go... but then stopped.

"Um..." she looked back, nervous. "I know we’re not that close, but... could you come see me perform?"

Kairon didn’t respond.

Meira’s shoulders lowered. "Right. Weird request. Sorry. I’ll be going now."

She walked off.

Kairon turned back to the field, face unchanged.

---

The stadium roared. The 200-meter girls’ sprint was about to begin.

The referee raised his hand.

"Runners—take your marks."

They crouched into position.

"Set."

BANG!

The race began.

Nero from Class B took the lead immediately. Sena from Class D followed closely behind. Elise from Class A maintained a steady pace, reading the field. Selene from Class C ran recklessly, weaving too close.

At the curve, Selene swerved sharply toward Sena—brushed her elbow. Sena stumbled slightly, but recovered and kept running.

Then Selene veered toward Elise.

She attempted a bump.

Elise reacted—redirected her with a firm push.

Selene fell. Hard. Rolled into the grass.

Gasps erupted across the stadium.

But the race continued.

Sena surged. Elise followed, controlled. Nero held her lead.

The finish line neared.

"First place: Nero! Class B!"

"Second place: Sena! Class D!"

"Third place: Selene! Class C!"

Then—

"Disqualification! Elise of Class A—unsportsmanlike conduct!"

Stunned silence.

Selene limped dramatically to her feet.

Under Class C’s tent, Ren smiled.

Selene’s fall had been staged. Elise had taken the bait.

And the referee? Already bought.

"Final Results for the 200-meter girls’ sprint—

Gold: Nero – Class B

Silver: Sena – Class D

Bronze: Selene – Class C

Disqualified: Elise – Class A"

---

Up above, in the student council booth—

Kael sat, arms resting on the chair, eyes sharp and cold. He watched everything. Every move. Every lie.

Juan stood behind him.

"...That referee," Juan said quietly. "He’s not being just. Should we call it off?"

Kael didn’t look back.

"No. Let it go on."

Juan blinked. "Even if Class C is clearly cheating?"

Kael’s glasses glinted.

"If the rest can’t overcome a scheme like this... they’re not worthy of Class S."

Juan fell silent.

Kael continued.

"This tournament isn’t just about winning. It’s about how you win. Those who ascend to Class S must be more than strong. They must have foresight. Control. Composure. Even in chaos."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Only those who endure without breaking... will deserve to stand above."

Kael’s gaze remained fixed on the field, his tone calm but laced with quiet superiority.

"That... is what makes one an elite student at Crimson Vale Academy."

He leaned back slightly, voice carrying an air of judgment.

"Those who can’t meet that standard have no right to dream of rising. They’re not competitors... they’re just gravel beneath the feet of those who are."

Juan stayed silent behind him, watching Kael’s expression harden.

Kael’s eyes narrowed, shifting toward the Class D canopy—toward Kairon.

"That so-called loser class... nothing more than stepping stones for the real elites. They don’t belong anywhere near Class S."

A pause. The crowd below cheered, oblivious to the weight of Kael’s words.

"Let them chase the dream. It’ll only break them."

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