The atmosphere in the Physics Department faculty office was eerie.
While other teachers were busy grading papers or loudly scolding misbehaving students, the desk of **Mr. Yates** was as quiet as a library.
Mr. Yates, known for his fiery temper and zero-tolerance policy for slackers, was currently holding a test paper with both hands. He had been staring at it for twenty minutes, his expression oscillating between disbelief and ecstasy.
The paper was covered in red ink—not corrections, but checkmarks. Huge, emphatic checkmarks that seemed to dance across the page.
"Yates," the Chemistry teacher at the next desk asked, leaning over. "What's going on? Didn't you kick that girl, Ren, out of the team? Why are you grinning at her paper like that?"
Mr. Yates snapped his head up, clutching the paper to his chest like a dragon guarding its gold.
"Who said I kicked her out?" Mr. Yates barked. "From now on, she is the mascot of the Physics Department! She is a protected species! She is more precious than a giant panda!"
Ignoring his colleague's confused look, Mr. Yates grabbed his desk phone and aggressively dialed the logistics department.
"Hello? Logistics? This is Yates from Physics. I need a chair. Not those wooden torture devices we give the students. I need a high-end ergonomic office chair with lumbar support and a reclining function. Yes, send it to Class 9, last row. And bring a memory foam neck pillow while you're at it. Now!"
He slammed the phone down and immediately dialed another number. This time, his voice turned respectful, almost reverent.
"Principal Shaw? It's Yates. Listen, the student you forced—I mean, recommended—to the team... she's a monster. A literal monster. That mechanics problem? She solved it using a Lagrangian equation. It was more elegant than the answer key! She's not a dropout; she's a potential provincial champion!"
On the other end of the line, **Principal Shaw** chuckled, leaning back in his leather chair. "I told you, didn't I? But Yates, listen to me. Keep a low profile. The kid has a temper. She doesn't like being watched. Your only job is to ensure she gets enough sleep."
"Understood! Loud and clear!" Mr. Yates nodded furiously at the phone. "If she wants to sleep during my lecture, I'll personally sing her a lullaby. Anyone who wakes her up will answer to me!"
***
News traveled fast at Wolven High. By lunch break, the entire school knew that Ren, the "English Speech Goddess," had officially joined the elite Physics Competition Team.
In **Class 1**, the air was thick with tension.
**Faye** sat at her desk, staring at a complex circuit diagram. It was the same "Death Paper" from last year's finals that Mr. Yates had distributed to the top students for practice. Faye had been working on it for two periods and had only managed to solve the first sub-question.
"Faye, did you hear?" her deskmate whispered, leaning in. "Your cousin, Ren, joined the team too."
Faye's hand slipped, her pen tearing a small hole in the paper.
"She joined because Principal Shaw personally invited her," Faye said, her voice cool and dismissive. "Who would dare to say no to the Principal?"
"True," the deskmate agreed. "Mr. Yates probably hates it. He despises students who get in through connections. Ren is probably just there to fill a quota. She'll be the denominator while you're the numerator."
Faye looked down at the unsolvable problem in front of her. The jealousy that had flared up settled into a cold, hard resolve.
*English is one thing,* Faye thought. *You can mimic an accent if you watch enough movies. But Physics? Physics requires logic. It requires a brain. You can't fake a derivation.*
She imagined Ren sitting in the Physics office, bewildered by the questions, perhaps crying to the Principal for help. The image comforted her.
Faye had no idea that the "unsolvable" paper giving her a migraine had been crushed by her cousin in ten minutes, casually, while standing up.
***
After school, the sky turned a bruised purple as evening set in.
A black Volkswagen Phaeton was parked quietly in the shadows near the school's rear exit. To the untrained eye, it looked like a standard sedan. But car enthusiasts would recognize the W12 engine and the hand-crafted interior that made it worth more than a Ferrari.
Ren opened the passenger door and slid inside.
The car was warm, smelling faintly of cedarwood and mint. A cello concerto played softly over the high-fidelity speakers.
**Juan** sat in the driver's seat, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel. He wore a charcoal grey cashmere coat that accentuated his broad shoulders and pale skin.
"How did it go?" Juan asked, glancing sideways at Ren, who was already reclining the seat to a sleeping position. "Did the old man in the Physics Department give you trouble?"
Ren tossed her backpack into the back seat, where **Luke** was sitting, playing a game on his phone.
"No," Ren yawned, closing her eyes. "He gave me a paper from last year. Told me to solve it."
"How long did it take?" Juan started the engine, the car gliding forward silently.
"Ten minutes, maybe?" Ren mumbled. "It was too simple. Waste of time. Then he started freaking out and offered to buy me a new chair."
In the back seat, Luke dropped his phone.
"Ten minutes?!" Luke leaned forward, grabbing the back of Ren's seat. "Ren, are you serious? That was the Provincial Finals 'Death Paper'! The passing rate was five percent! People cried in the exam hall! You finished it in ten minutes?"
Ren opened one eye, looking at Luke as if he were a particularly noisy golden retriever.
"It only tested basic logic. Why would it take longer?"
Luke slumped back, covering his face. "Basic logic... I feel like I'm a different species from you two."
Juan wasn't surprised. He steered the car smoothly into traffic, a small smile playing on his lips.
He had seen her files. He knew that beneath the "dropout" label lay a mind that operated on a different frequency from the rest of the world.
"Since it was so simple, I assume you're bored," Juan said. He reached into the center console and pulled out a box of warm Portuguese egg tarts. "Here."
Ren took a tart. The custard was still hot and wobbly. She took a bite, her mood instantly lifting.
"Next month is the competition in the Provincial Capital," Juan said casually. "I have to go back there for a meeting. Come with me. I want to introduce you to someone."
"Who?" Ren asked with her mouth full.
"An old friend," Juan said, his eyes darkening slightly. "He has a private library. Contains some original manuscripts on nuclear physics from the 1950s. I think you'll find them interesting."
Ren froze mid-chew.
Her eyes lit up. It was a look of pure, unadulterated hunger—not for food, but for knowledge. Original manuscripts? Nuclear physics? That was stuff you couldn't find on the internet.
"Deal," Ren said, finishing the tart in one gulp. "For those books, I'll bring back a gold trophy. I'll bring back two if you want."
Luke groaned from the back seat.
"Most girls want diamonds or bags. You want nuclear physics manuscripts and egg tarts. You really are a perfect match for the Boss."
Ren ignored him, reaching for another tart. The car sped off into the night, carrying the hidden genius toward her next battlefield.
**[Chapter 47 End]**