February 5th.
First day of school.
*Beep!*
*Beep beep!*
Early in the morning, the four main streets leading to Midtown High were completely gridlocked. Horns blared, and a colorful array of New York's "finest" vocabulary echoed through the air.
Locke didn't participate in the shouting; he wasn't fond of swearing.
Usually, the trip from the Star Tower to pick up Gwen and then head to school took no more than thirty minutes. Today?
"I have a feeling we're going to be late."
Locke glanced at his watch and spoke to Gwen, who was sitting in the passenger seat flipping through materials the school had sent out yesterday. "I don't remember it being this bad when I started in the fall."
Gwen didn't look up. "It's the first day of the spring semester. The ninth-grade freshmen are enrolling today. It's normal. If you had started in the spring, you'd understand."
Right. From today, he was officially a sophomore—tenth grade. Then eleventh next year, twelfth the year after, and then he could finally pack up for university.
Locke had zero intention of skipping grades. None at all.
For others, skipping a grade might seem like a high-value move. For Locke, it was the least cost-effective thing he could do. If he stayed the course for the full four years of high school, he could conservatively estimate earning at least a million Achievement and Potential points. If he skipped ahead, he might get a quick burst of points, but in the long run?
The total yield of staying the course far outweighed the short-term gains of rushing. Lower-class students could participate in high-level competitions, but seniors couldn't exactly go back and compete in freshman math decathlons. The points from those competitions alone made his decision for him.
Locke glanced at the traffic moving at a snail's pace and shook his head. "When I have the time, I'm definitely going to find a way to rig my car so it can fly."
If things got backed up, he'd just toggle flight mode. He recalled that Phil Coulson's car could fly.
Gwen looked up. "Are you planning on going to MIT?"
"What?" Locke blinked, looking at her. "Why would I go to MIT?"
When had he ever said that? Locke's plan was simple: he was in charge of earning points, and the logistics of the future were up to Gwen. Whatever university she chose, he would follow. He wasn't an idiot; why would he pass up the chance to ride the coattails of a "Goddess of Learning"?
Gwen smiled. "You said you wanted to put wings on your car. MIT is the place for that kind of research."
Locke gave her a charming smile. "Gwen, I have money. I can just hire someone from MIT. They do the research, I pay the bill and buy out the patent. Why would I go there myself?"
This was the United States. If you had money, you had everything.
MIT? Capitalists can be engineers, but engineers are rarely the ones calling the shots. There was no question about who really owned the country.
Gwen let out a soft laugh and gave him a beautiful look. "Thank you for the reminder."
"Reminder of what?"
"That you're a billionaire, Locke."
"I won't sign a prenuptial agreement, if that's what you're worried about."
"..."
Locke grinned at her. "That's the reminder I should be giving you."
Gwen gave him an elegant roll of her eyes.
In truth, even if Locke wanted a prenup, Gwen wouldn't care. She wasn't interested in his money; she'd been earning her own "private funds" through academic scholarships and prizes since she was a child.
Locke having money was never a problem for her. In fact, if he didn't have money, she felt that might be the real issue. In relationships where the woman is much wealthier than the man, emotional problems tend to crop up. Gwen knew that even if she didn't care about the disparity, Locke—a man with a very strong sense of self-respect—might struggle if his wife was the primary breadwinner.
Fortunately, Locke was currently very loaded.
"Oh, right," Gwen said, closing her files to keep him company so he wouldn't get road rage. "Did you know we have six new transfer students this semester?"
Locke stared at the sea of cars, suppressing the urge to manifest a rocket launcher and clear the lane. "How would I know? You're the student assistant, I'm just a regular student."
He was a student. Completely average in terms of school bureaucracy.
Gwen suggested, "You could try running for the Student Council."
"In what capacity?"
Every spring, the Student Council held elections to ensure a smooth transition for the change of leadership in June.
Gwen shrugged. "The Academic Department?"
Locke chuckled. "Gwen, you should be the one in the Academic Department."
"I'm a student assistant," she countered. "Moving to the Student Council would be like a lateral career jump."
Locke smiled, his lips curling upward as he looked at her. "Unless it's Student Council President, I'm not interested. It's not on my table."
To be a beast of burden for others, or to have others be beasts of burden for you? That wasn't a hard choice. He was a Reincarnator, for heaven's sake. He had a "cheat code" system. It would be an insult to his status to spend his days running errands for high schoolers.
Locke might have been born into a "beast of burden" destiny in this life, but through 99% unremitting effort, perseverance, and a tiny bit of help from his system, he had successfully turned himself into a "Roman."
However, Locke was mostly just talking. He had no real desire to play Student Council games. He liked games he could win 100% of the time. Anything with a chance of losing was a hard pass.
Midtown High elections—especially for President—were like miniature Presidential elections. Some argued they were even harder. Presidential candidates could rely on political machines and "funny" operations to win. Student Council Presidents? That was pure popularity and politics.
"Well," Gwen tapped her chin thoughtfully, a serious look on her face. "If you actually want to run for President, you might actually have a chance."
Locke blinked. "What?"
Gwen adjusted her seat and started ticking off points on her fingers. "You're one of the school's heartthrobs, your grades are top-tier, and you're athletic."
Locke's eye twitched. 'I was just kidding.'
"I need to correct you, Miss Stacy. I am the school heartthrob—I won't deny that. In fact, globally speaking, anyone more handsome than me has probably gone extinct. But..." Locke looked at her. "Being a heartthrob with a girlfriend isn't a bonus; it's a penalty in an election."
"Exactly," Gwen said. "I can't run, but I can stand by your side. Having a girlfriend campaign with you isn't a penalty; it shows stability. Why do you think politicians always bring their wives to rallies?"
Gwen's mind started racing. "I can be your campaign manager. Mary Jane is the cheerleading captain, Betty is the manager of the school radio station, and Jessica Campbell is in the drama club. We have a huge advantage."
Locke's brow throbbed. It's already arranged? Does my opinion not matter?
"The advantage you're talking about," Locke said, "covers the sophomores, juniors, and seniors. There are four grades. We might have one locked down, but what about the other three?"
A one-to-three ratio was a losing game. Locke didn't play games he might lose. Losing, like "cross-dressing," was a threshold—you either did it zero times, or infinite times. If you lost once, the second and third losses would follow quickly. It was about momentum and "Luck."
Until he found a supreme treasure to anchor his Luck, he wasn't going to risk breaking his streak. The Peerless Artifact? That was like the four swords—a weapon for killing, but not for anchoring fate.
"Who says it's one-to-three? We can take the seniors too."
"How?"
"Betty and Mary Jane's boyfriends are both seniors. In fact, Betty's boyfriend is the current Student Council President, and Mary Jane's boyfriend is the captain of the basketball team."
"..."
Typical—cheerleading captain and basketball captain.
Locke didn't care for the basketball captain. Ignoring him was the best Locke could do. Their personalities didn't mesh, and Locke found the guy's "vibe" annoying.
Locke waved his hand dismissively. "Stop, I was just—"
Gwen didn't let him finish; she was already calculating. "If you want to run, there are several academic competitions this spring. If you participate, it'll be perfectly logical. You can use those wins to secure the votes of the students who actually care about academics."
Competitions? Task rewards.
Locke raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what does winning a math competition have to do with being President?"
Am I not allowed to bring glory to the school without running for office?
***
Bonus chapter
Next bonus at 200 stones
***
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