Dematero couldn’t make sense of it. All he had done was tease Henry a little, and suddenly, Henry exploded, even resorting to violence. Wasn’t that going too far?

  What puzzled him even more was that, just as he was about to recim his dignity, Henry clutched his stomach, left the cssroom abruptly, and sprinted toward the restroom.

  Dematero couldn’t resist compining loudly at Henry’s retreating figure. “He cursed and pushed me, and now he’s running off? Is he out of his mind? What an idiot!”

  Despite his frustration, Dematero was mild-tempered and decided not to chase after him.

  Meanwhile, Henry was dealing with a bout of diarrhea—unfortunately, in Jimmy’s seat. Luckily, the incident wasn’t too explosive. The stool was watery and odorless, so for the moment, no one around noticed anything unusual.

  It was clear that the "beautiful and kind-hearted" mastermind behind the scenes had shown some restraint. Otherwise, Henry might have suffered the same fate as Jimmy, who had once “died” on the spot during a simirly embarrassing ordeal.

  Still, a faint yellow stain remained on Jimmy’s chair.

  When Jimmy returned to his seat, he had initially pnned to greet Henry. Jimmy always liked befriending the top students in css.

  But with Henry rushing out so urgently, Jimmy didn’t get the chance. Watching Henry’s hurried retreat, Jimmy couldn’t help but mutter to himself, “Damn, that ‘Pee King’ chair of mine must be cursed. This is just too weird!”

  Could this be what people called an urban legend?

  [Ding, pain points from Henry!]

  Jimmy, distracted by Henry’s dash, forgot to check his seat and was about to sit down.

  At this crucial moment, Crissante, sharp-eyed as always, called out, “Jimmy, wait! Don’t sit down. Is that yellow paint on your chair?” She had yet to consider the more unpleasant possibility.

  Jimmy looked confused. Whether out of curiosity or a pse in judgment, he crouched down and took a sniff.

  Although Henry’s accident had left no discernible odor and even Crissante, seated nearby, hadn’t noticed anything, Jimmy decided to sniff it anyway.

  “Ugh!” Jimmy recoiled in horror. “It’s poop!”

  Disgusted and furious, he shouted, “Who the hell pooped on my seat?!”

  [Ding, pain points from Jimmy!]

  Crissante froze in shock. It was bad enough that someone had left such a mess, but she couldn’t believe Jimmy had actually sniffed it.

  Dematero, who had been watching the scene unfold, burst out ughing, spping his desk. “Hahaha!”

  Pointing at Jimmy, he decred, “I know who did it—it was Henry! Didn’t you see him clutching his stomach and rushing out just now? He probably couldn’t hold it. You should confront him when he gets back. I’ll back you up!”

  Still ughing, Dematero asked his deskmate Xanthia for a few wet wipes. Handing them to Jimmy, he added, “Quick, clean it up before it dries. It’ll be easier that way.”

  Hearing that Henry might be the culprit slightly dulled Jimmy’s anger. After all, Henry was the css monitor and the top student, someone not easy to challenge. Jimmy accepted the wet wipes, first cleaning his nose vigorously, then wiping down the chair. Thankfully, Henry’s mess this time wasn’t as severe as it could have been—just a small stain.

  Most of the css hadn’t noticed what was happening. The cssroom was noisy, with students chatting, pying on their phones, or lost in their own activities. For now, Henry had avoided a major disaster.

  If he ever wanted to earn the nickname “Poop King,” he’d have to take even bigger risks.

  “Thanks, Dematero,” Jimmy said, his tone softening. Then, with a frown, he asked, “Why was Henry sitting in my chair anyway?”

  Dematero gnced briefly at Xanthia, who was quietly enjoying the commotion, and replied, “Who knows what’s going on in his head. Ask him yourself when he gets back.”

  Still uncomfortable, Jimmy used a dry tissue to give the chair one st wipe before reluctantly sitting down. Even so, he couldn’t shake the psychological discomfort—he felt as though he were sitting on a mountain of filth.

  Crissante finally spoke up. “Jimmy, I think you should request a new chair from Emmanuel. This one has something seriously wrong with it.”

  Dematero chimed in with a ugh. “Actually, this is easy to expin. Ever read those internet stories about cursed objects? Maybe your chair is one of those. You could call it the ‘Cursed Seat of Doom.’”

  As Dematero chuckled at his own joke, Henry finally emerged from the restroom, looking utterly humiliated. In his rush earlier, he hadn’t even grabbed toilet paper.

  Naturally, his “pain points” had skyrocketed.

  Too embarrassed to return to the cssroom, Henry headed straight for the dormitory to change his pants.

  But just as he reached the corridor outside Css 3, Jimmy stormed out to confront him. “Henry! What do you have to say about sitting on my chair and leaving that mess?”

  Henry’s face fell. “What? Don’t snder me! Who said I sat on your chair? And anyway, isn’t your ‘Pee king’ chair cursed or something?”

  Jimmy clenched his fists, furious. “If you won’t admit it, I’ll make sure everyone knows what you did!”

  Henry’s mind raced. “Go ahead. Let’s see who they believe—me, the top student, or you, with your history of chair-reted incidents.”

  Damn, Henry was shameless!

  Jimmy hesitated. If Henry refused to confess, Jimmy might just have to endure the humiliation in silence. His fists tightened, but he held back.

  Sensing the tension, Henry quickly tried to de-escate. “How about this, Jimmy? Let’s not sweat the small stuff. The monthly exams are coming up. Study with me, and I’ll help you boost your grades. Deal?”

  Jimmy valued academic performance above all else. Reluctantly, he agreed. “Fine. I’ll let this go. For now.”

  And so, the two reconciled, much to the disappointment of Dematero, who had been hoping for more drama.