Jaws were still on the floor.
Judah's words—countdown restarted—hung in the air, shocking everyone. He paused briefly in his paperwork, glanced up, then calmly returned to writing as if nothing had happened.
How?! Since when?! Gadeon thought, scanning the room.
No one's breaking the rules. Everyone's got their work out. Groups are quiet…
Then it hit him.
Not because he hadn't noticed the Sheriff at the front—but because all Gadeon could see was his back. He'd assumed the boy had his head down, working.
Is it him?
Gage's goons snapped their heads toward the front, ready to react, but Gage subtly raised his hand, stopping them. Drawing attention would only make things worse.
The countdown just started, Gage told himself. It's no big deal. We can restart and do this properly.
Despite that, his fists were clenched tight beneath the desk.
A couple of students with masks around their necks whispered urgently toward Sheriff. He ignored them completely, sitting motionless—like a statue.
Kurtiz stood up and walked toward him.
Sheriff's body stiffened even more. Even his breathing slowed, as if he were trying not to exist.
"Wh–what are you doing?" he mutters under his breath. "You're gonna get the countdown restarted again…"
Kurtiz ignores him and turns toward the front.
"Excuse me, Sir Judah," Kurtiz says, raising his hand politely.
"Go ahead," Judah replies, eyes still glued to his paperwork.
"Is it against the rules to leave your seat?"
"You've been doing that the whole time—working in groups," Judah says calmly. "As long as the noise stays low and it doesn't distract me, you're fine."
Kurtiz smiles.
He turns back to Sheriff.
"You heard that, Sheriff," Kurtiz says lightly. "He says it's fine."
Kurtiz places a hand on Sheriff's shoulder. A shiver ran straight down his spine.
Then Kurtiz leans in and whispers—
"Don't let it get to you, Sheriff. We all make mistakes."
A pause.
"Now it's about how we make up for them… right?"
"You don't get it!" Sheriff hiss, panic leaking into his voice. "There was a certain amount I had to bring back. I was selling a couple early this morning, and I only had one left. If we hadn't been called by Glace to help that Gadeon kid, the drug wouldn't have gotten confiscated in the first place."
"It's fine," Kurtiz replies quietly, his tone controlled, almost gentle. "We can sort that out later. But right now, could you please do something—anything—so the countdown doesn't keep getting restarted?"
"No!" Sheriff snaps, his voice rising. "This is the only security I have now!"
"Countdown restarted," Judah announced flatly, pausing his paperwork for just a second before continuing.
Kurtiz stiffens. "Sir," he says carefully, "I don't think that was even above noise level. People at the back are speaking louder than that."
Judah finally lifts his eyes, fixing them on Kurtiz—and then Sheriff.
"Did you forget what I said earlier? "As long as it doesn't bother or distract me."
"Yeah, but the people at the back didn't distract you, so how come—"
Then it hit him.
I see.
Kurtiz went quiet.
Groans and complaints rippled from the back of the room.
"Sheriff, can you stop being a problem and just do some work?" one of Glace's members mutters sharply. "You've already made things worse for us. Don't make it even worse."
Sheriff flinches. Dropping his head into his hands, elbows on the desk, pressing his face down as guilt crushes into him.
That's when Kurtiz turns. An ice-cold glare locked onto the student who had spoken—so sharp it felt physical.
You're making it worse.
The message didn't need words.
The student immediately looks away, shrinking back into silence.
One of Gage's members leans in, whispering sharply.
"Gage, this isn't working. Should we just shut them up ourselves?"
"Yeah," another mutters. "You can tell they're doing it on purpose. None of our lots are causing this — it's the guys wearing masks."
"Use your head," Gage whispers back. "If we indulge them, Sir Judah will just restart the countdown."
"Who cares about the countdown?" someone scoffs. "It's probably made up anyway."
"What?" Gage snaps, turning toward them.
"And it's not like we've got something important to do after this," a girl from his group adds casually.
Gage's eyes widens. "Huh? What makes you say that?"
"Gage," another member cut in, voice heated. "We've got our area. Our neighbourhood. We're supposed to protect it. Guard it. And those mask nerds are always disrespecting us — flexing their stupid stuff."
"Flexing?" Gage frowns. "What are you talking about? They can't flex. They don't even have Chi-Lungs."
"No — not that kind of flexing," They continue, "They flex how much money they make. Calling us broke. Mocking us. Sometimes they come into our area and throw money on the floor just to laugh at us picking it up."
"What?!" Gage whispers sharply. "That doesn't make sense. We're not even allowed to work at our age. How are they getting that much money? Are their parents rich?"
"No. That's not it," someone replies quietly. "I've heard they're making money selling drugs."
"Drugs?" Gage froze.
His mind flashed back to the assembly — Gaedric holding up the packet.
"What the hell?" Gage mutters, genuine shock cutting through his anger. "We're just kids. What are they doing with drugs? Don't tell me they're selling inside the dojo."
"No," a Gage member shakes his head. "For some reason, they don't. Which would make more sense, honestly. But I hear they sell mostly outside the dojo. To grown-ups."
"That doesn't even make sense," Gage whispers. "What grown adult would buy something from a kid?"
"I don't know, Gage. I'm just telling you what I've been hearing."
"Yeah, but—"
"Countdown restarted."
Gage clenches his jaw, fury surging.
Judah's eyes were up — watching everyone.
"YOU GUYS ARE TAKING THE PISS!" Gage snapped, standing halfway out of his seat.
"Hey, Gage, what are you doing?" one of his members whispers urgently.
"Yeah! Didn't you say we shouldn't get involved in this?"
"No," Gage snaps, voice rising, "because I've got somewhere to be! I can't just waste time here!"
"Countdown restarted."
"See?!" one of his members hisses. "Gage, now it's your fault."
"Shut up!" Gage barks.
"Countdown restarted."
Gage grinds his teeth, fury simmering. Around him, his own group—still seated—wears tight, irritated expressions. A few exchange looks. Quiet ones. The kind that speaks louder than words.
Gadeon catches it.
Did they just pull faces at him? he thinks.
"Countdown restarted."
"What?!" Gage explodes. "I stopped shouting! Everyone's quiet!"
"That young man at the front is still doing nothing," Judah says calmly, without looking up. His pen doesn't pause. "Sheriff."
"Argh—!" Gage mutters under his breath. "It's always you mask nerds trying to be annoying, yeah?"
He steps forward, cracking his knuckles.
Before he can reach Sheriff, Kurtiz steps directly into his path.
"Move," Gage growls. "Kurtiz."
"Can't do that, Gage," Kurtiz replies evenly. "He's one of mine."
"Then control one of yours," Gage snaps, "or I will."
"Woah. Let's not get hasty," Kurtiz murmurs, lowering his voice. "We keep the beef outside the dojo. You don't want teachers involved. Neither do I."
They lean closer, voices dropping into whispers. No one else can hear—not even Gadeon, who strains to catch a word.
Gadeon glances at Judah.
Judah's eyes remain fixed on his paperwork.
"And I know why you're so agitated," Kurtiz says quietly.
Gage scoffs. "Don't act like you weren't agitated when we got here."
"Oh, you noticed?" Kurtiz replies. "Then you'll know this isn't easy for me either. But—I can help you."
"Help me?" Gage repeats, suspicious.
"Yeah. I know where you need to be. So what if I pay you the same amount you're expecting to get? That should calm you down."
The words hit Gage like an insult.
"The sooner you relax, the better," Kurtiz continues. "I'll round everyone up, deal with Sheriff, and boom—countdown finishes. We all go home."
"You'll pay me?" Gage says slowly, his expression darkening.
"Or… do you want more?" Kurtiz adds.
Gage's mind flashes back to what one of his members said earlier—they're making stupid money for kids.
"You trying to pay me with your drug money?" Gage whispers sharply—too loud to be safe, but quiet enough to not echo.
Kurtiz's eyes narrow.
"Shh. When did I ever say drugs?" he replies smoothly. "Can't my parents just be rich?"
Before either can say more—
"This is getting ridiculous."
Judah finally stops writing.
He looks up.
"I haven't been able to count properly because you children keep ruining it," he says flatly. "Were the rules really that hard? Or is following basic instructions something you all struggle with?"
Silence drops like a weight.
The atmosphere thickens as a couple of the students with masks around their necks quietly approach Sheriff.
Before moving closer, they flash polite, harmless smiles toward Judah—perfect little performances, as if they were about to help a classmate or start group work. The moment they turn their backs to him, the smiles vanish.
Their eyes harden instantly.
"If you don't do something in the next few seconds," one of them whispers, voice low and venomous, "the moment we leave this detention, you're done for."
Another leans in.
"You already caused trouble by getting caught. Don't add more to your head."
Sheriff froze.
Kurtiz felt sweat bead along his spine.
They're making it worse…
He glances around, mind racing, trying to think of a way to dissolve the situation before it explodes.
"And how do you know what I do after school?" Gage asks Kurtiz suddenly.
Kurtiz barely registers the question. His focus stays locked on the cluster around Sheriff, watching the tension coil tighter.
"Aww," Gage smirks. "Now you look stressed."
"Yes, I am," Kurtiz snaps under his breath. "Because everyone wants to be an idiot."
Then, more controlled, he adds, "And as for how I know—information is power."
"DON'T SCREW WITH US, SHERIFF!" one of the masked students hisses. "DO WORK OR WE'LL—"
"You'll do what?"
Judah's voice cuts through the room like a blade.
Every student stiffens.
Judah has stopped writing.
He looks directly at them, eyes cold, unreadable.
"I hope that wasn't a threat," he says calmly. "Because if it was, trust me—you don't want to deal with me."
The masked students pale.
Without another word, they retreat instantly, returning to their seats like obedient shadows.
Judah scans the room slowly.
His gaze stops on Gadeon.
Gadeon hasn't moved.
He sits alone, quietly filling out his spider diagram, pen moving steadily across the page. Part of his attention remains on the room—but only enough to confirm one thing:
There's no point getting involved. I was going to do this planning at home anyway. Doing it now changes nothing. Might as well focus. Gadeon says to himself.
Judah watches him for a moment longer. That boy is Gaedric's son, he thinks. I suppose this is his approach—ignore everyone else and focus on yourself.
Effective, Judah admits inwardly. At least for personal progress.
It even aligns with the Tribe of Aqua's philosophy. Adapt. Move forward. And if others can't keep up… leave them behind.
Judah exhales quietly.
Still…
I expected something different from Gaedric's son.
Judah's gaze shifts—slow, deliberate—until it settles on Kurtiz.
That boy, Judah thinks, he's trying to take a leadership position. Unlike Gadeon.
Kurtiz is watching. Measuring. Trying to coordinate everyone into cooperating without triggering consequences.
Judah's eyes flick briefly to the front of the room.
And then there's Sheriff.
The boy sits stiff, unmoving.
Filled with guilt, Judah notes. The one caught with the drug.
He's being disruptive on purpose—not out of defiance, but fear.
Judah exhales quietly.
He's terrified that if detention ends early, he'll be harmed.
And that, Judah thinks coldly, isn't going to happen under my watch.
But still… we are ordered to investigate.
His fingers pause over the paperwork.
And so far, this detention alone has given me more intel than any interrogation would.
Judah's eyes move again—back to Kurtiz.
I'd love to question them directly, he admits inwardly. But I don't want to spook them.
They're children—but they're not stupid.
Especially Kurtiz.
Judah narrows his eyes slightly.
He's holding back.
Why?
Is it because of Gage? Their gang rivalry? Or is he protecting something… or someone?
Judah shifts his attention once more—this time to Gage.
And then there's you.
Normally, you're not this emotional.
You rarely land in detention.
Judah leans back slightly.
Yet today, you're desperate to leave.
Too desperate.
His mind ticks over possibilities.
Is something happening outside?
Judah's jaw tightens.
As Head of Behaviour and Safeguarding, I should consider letting him leave early if there's a genuine risk.
But they're children.
And children who aren't disciplined don't learn.
A pause.
Then—
Gage raises his hand.
Judah looks directly at him.
"Go on," Judah says calmly.
"Since it's Sheriff that's causing the countdown to restart," Gage says evenly, "and it's obvious he's doing it intentionally, couldn't you just restart his time? Or exclude him from the rest of us? We're taking this detention seriously, and it feels unfair to be punished for his actions."
So that's his approach, Judah notes internally.
The opposite of Gaedric's kid.
Isolate the problem. Save everyone else.
"When you were caught fighting this morning," Judah replies calmly, "you all took part. It wouldn't be fair to punish only Sheriff and not the rest of you."
"Yeah, but right now we're actually trying to take this detention seriously," Gage presses.
"Young man," Judah says, "When you're punished for your stupid actions, you don't get to choose or customise your consequences. Next time, behave better."
That shuts Gage up immediately—though the frustration on his face only deepens.
"Listen, Gage," Kurtiz mutters under his breath, "if I just pay you, you won't have to stress about this."
"Screw off with your drug money," Gage snaps.
"Who said it was drug money?" Kurtiz smirks. "And why act shocked? Aren't you used to dirty money?"
Gage's expression hardens instantly.
"Apologise," he says coldly. "Right now. Or I'll break your neck."
Kurtiz freezes. He hadn't expected that. He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head.
"Alright, alright—my bad. Sorry."
"Hold on, sir."
Gadeon raises his hand.
"If we're here because of the fight this morning," he says evenly, "wouldn't what I did count as self-defence? I was targeted."
"You little snitch!" one of Gage's members barks.
Snitch? Gadeon thinks. I was never part of this stupid beef. You're just annoying children.
"You caused the most destruction," Judah says flatly. "The dojo had to cover the costs."
"Destruction?" Gadeon frowns. "What destruction?"
"You don't remember stealing a vehicle?" Judah asks.
"I used it to escape," Gadeon says. "That just proves I was in danger."
"Oh please," Judah replies. "There were plenty of alternatives. You could've gone to any adult in public. Any Current Keeper. Instead, your first instinct was to steal a vehicle."
Judah tilts his head slightly.
"That's a very peculiar decision for a ten-year-old."
Gadeon stays silent.
He knows pushing further won't get him out early.
"For now," Kurtiz says quietly, lowering his voice, "let's both take a seat and call a truce. We've both got places we need to be, yeah?"
Gage doesn't respond, but after a moment, he turns and heads back toward his seat. Kurtiz follows.
As Gage sits, his thoughts spiral.
For him to offer money like that… are they really making it that easily?
How much does that drug even go for?
His jaw tightens.
No.
He shakes his head hard, as if to physically reject the thought.
Screw that. I'll never be like my parents. No matter what.
I'll protect them properly. I won't rely on drugs. I won't steal. I won't take shortcuts.
A flash of home hits him without warning—
His little brother.
His two younger sisters.
His grandmother, tired but holding everything together.
His chest tightens.
I don't have time for this, Gage snarls internally. I don't have the luxury to sit here.
Kurtiz reaches his seat.
Gage doesn't.
Instead, he turns sharply and starts walking toward the door.
His members notice immediately.
"Where you going, Gage?" one of them whispers urgently.
He doesn't look back.
"I don't have time for this," Gage says, his voice steady but strained. Then, louder, addressing the room—
"Sorry, sir. But I'm leaving."