The first class the next morning was Flying, and to Allen's surprise, they were using broomsticks too!

That completely caught him off guard. Geographically, Uagadou was much closer to Egypt. Wouldn't it make more sense if they were flying on magic carpets instead of brooms? At the very least, if they were borrowing from other cultures, they'd likely imitate Egypt's flying traditions first, right?

But then it hit him, of course they'd use brooms. Even their main language was now English. How could their magical customs remain completely untouched?

After all, while the hidden magical world might be unaffected by Muggle wars and politics, it couldn't avoid change when each generation kept recruiting a portion of new blood from the Muggle world to replenish its shrinking wizard population. Over time, the influence of the outside world on Uagadou was inevitable.

Take the girl walking past him, for example, a light-brown-skinned beauty with striking mixed-race features. (At least, Allen assumed she was a girl. Some gentlemen might use... specific terminology, but let's remember, Allen wasn't even twelve yet. So if you're thinking things, dear reader, hands off. These girls are his age.)

As a former colony of the British Empire, the presence of mixed-race students usually hinted at one unspoken truth, at least one parent was ridiculously good-looking.

That fact was on full display in this proud, elegant little witch. Even though she wore the same uniform as everyone else, her long, silky ash-blonde hair, gleaming mocha-toned skin, and regal posture made her stand out like a swan among ducks.

But Allen didn't miss the look in her eyes, those constantly darting, scheming eyes.

There was no mistaking it.

She was a brat.

A certified brat.

The kind of "brat" that transcended looks. Across all cultures, brats may come in many forms, but they all share one universal trait: they're a pain in the ass.

Sure enough, while the class waited for the teacher to arrive, the little brat, let's call her that for now, leaned over and said something in the local language to the boy beside her.

Allen didn't catch every word, but his translation charm got enough to understand:

"Hey, see that exchange student over there? Whoever manages to embarrass him today gets a date with me this weekend!"

Allen nearly tripped.

What the hell!?

When he was twelve, what was he even doing? Playing Super Nintendo? These kids were already going on dates? Where was the justice!? 90s-born, emotionally-starved single children like him deserved some love too!

Wait. That wasn't the point!

The point was, what did he do to deserve this!? Why was he suddenly public enemy number one!?

But a glance at the brat's group revealed the real reason: standing right beside her was a boy Allen vaguely recognized, one of the kids he'd knocked flat during yesterday's drinking challenge. Judging by their similar features, they were probably twins.

Ah. That explained everything.

In most situations, when you beat up a kid, their older sibling shows up for revenge.

Here?

Beat up the brother… and suddenly an entire harem of brothers-in-law appears!?

Okay. You win.

Allen looked at the dozen or so boys glaring at him like bulls in heat and felt a chill down his spine. A horde of hormonal brats? That was basically a natural disaster waiting to happen.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder, wasn't that girl worried about alienating the rest of the class's girls by acting like that? Power-tripping over boys like that was the fastest way to get ostracized. And nothing was scarier than schoolgirl politics.

Then again… Allen soon realized he was being naïve.

The other girls weren't glaring at her. They were glaring at him.

Of course! That girl's brother was probably the class heartthrob. The type who made girls swoon. No wonder they were all ready to go to war for her sake.

This world was cruel… especially to average-faced guys like him.

So… what's the best way to deal with bratty kids?

Slapping them across the face?

Not a chance.

Just like bratty kids came with bratty parents, these ones had home turf advantage. It was obvious the Professors would side with their own students. Even Hogwarts professors, no matter how much they liked Allen, had to maintain a neutral stance while abroad. And Snape still hadn't forgiven him for their last spat.

No, no, no, this required tact. The kind of tact you'd use dealing with a cousin's nightmare kid who broke your stuff. You smile sweetly and say things like,

"Hey, I got your kid this whole set of test prep books from the top cram schools. They say it improves high school entrance scores by 30%!"

Then you grin while the little demon cries through ten hours of extra homework.

Still no good? Fine.

Let the brat bang on a noisy instrument all day and then proudly tell the parents,

"Wow, your kid has real talent! You should sign him up for weekend lessons!"

Trust me, next time, the kid will behave like a saint.

But back to the present.

Allen put on his most innocent smile, walked confidently toward the boy he recognized from yesterday, and cheerfully slapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey! Asumi! Good morning!"

With a slightly guilty grin, Allen gave him a thumbs-up and exclaimed in an almost exaggerated tone,

"You were definitely the best drinker among all the new students yesterday!"

(Uh… well, Allen couldn't actually remember who passed out last. But who cares? They all passed out eventually.)

"In Britain, being a strong drinker is a mark of true courage. You know, a warrior!"

Afterall, there's a saying: "If you can't drink, you're not a man."

"And you know what they say, a brave child grows into a brave adult! I'd be honored to be friends with someone like you! So… while we're waiting for the professor, could you give me a quick tour of the area?"

Allen's over-the-top praise worked like a charm. Asumi turned beet red from the compliment. Meanwhile, the other boys who had been with him during the drinking match looked utterly ashamed, because only Asumi had been singled out.

Exactly as Allen intended.

Praise one. Neutralize the rest. Leave the brat alone to stew.

This, my friends, is how you win social battles.

And, of course, Asumi was more than happy to play tour guide. After all, Allen had proven himself yesterday. Being acknowledged by someone like that felt great.

Allen chuckled inwardly.

Let's see how long that brat keeps running her mouth.

Sure enough, as he and Asumi walked off, Allen caught sight of the little devil regrouping with her minions, clearly ready to launch Round Two.

But by the time Allen had made his way around a few buildings and gotten to know some of the students better, the atmosphere had already changed. The tension from earlier was gone.

He'd survived the first round.

And his laptop, figures, and other precious possessions… looked like they were safe. For now.

But was that enough?

No way.

Fighting bratty kids is the sacred duty of every civilized person!

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