Mister Alfred rubs his temple, averting his gaze from the Year 6 students after what Gaedric has just said.

  “Now that everyone’s finally quiet,” Gaedric continues calmly, “before I explain the reason behind this sudden assembly, I want to ask you all a question.”

  The hall stills.

  “What’s the most powerful thing in this world?”

  The question catches the entire year group off guard. Students glance at one another, confused. Murmurs break out almost immediately.

  “Don’t just stare at each other,” Gaedric says. “Talk. Discuss it. What do you think?”

  The hall fills with chatter. Some students argue that the strongest Flexors are the most powerful. Others say money. A few look genuinely lost, unsure what Gaedric is even asking.

  After a moment, Gaedric folds his arms.

  “Alright. Does anyone have an answer?”

  A hand rises.

  Gaedric’s eyes land on him.

  “Yes, Ami?”

  “Love,” Ami answers brightly.

  The response lands like a dropped plate.

  Gadeon slaps his palm to his forehead and looks down.

  The hall erupts in laughter.

  “Did a girl just say that?”

  “That voice is way too high to be a guy.”

  “No way he meant that seriously.”

  “That’s so cringe.”

  “Is that really our top student?”

  Ami’s smile fades. He lowers his gaze, fists tightening at his sides as the laughter digs in. The only person who looks genuinely uncomfortable on his behalf is Rotalia.

  Then—

  “Correct answer, Ami.”

  The laughter dies instantly.

  Shock ripples through the hall.

  Gaedric looks around, unimpressed.

  “Don’t mind them,” he says lightly. “They love acting mature, but the moment someone says the word love, they start squirming. Honestly—how immature is that?”

  A few students shift uncomfortably.

  “Gaedric,” Mister Alfred whispers urgently, leaning toward him. “You’re provoking them.”

  “No,” Gaedric replies without looking away. “I’m exposing them.”

  He smirks.

  “If love makes you cringe,” he adds, “imagine how you’d react to the word sex.”

  A wave of gasps spreads across the hall. Some students look horrified. Others stiffen, pretending they’re unfazed. A few glance around, suddenly very interested in the floor.

  “Gaedric,” Alfred says sharply now, disappointment clear in his voice. “That’s inappropriate to say to young children.”

  Before Gaedric can respond—

  A student raises their hand.

  “Why is love the strongest thing? That doesn’t make sense.”

  Gaedric turns toward the student who spoke, considering the question.

  “Hm.”

  Another student chimes in. “Yeah. And who are we even meant to love? Are you talking about our parents?”

  “That’s a good question,” Gaedric says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But before we ask who we should love, we need to ask something more important.”

  He scans the hall.

  “What is love?”

  A hand shoots up. “When you like someone,” a student answers.

  Gaedric gives a nod. “That’s part of it.”

  Then his voice steadies, slower now—deliberate.

  “Love is patient.

  Love is kind.

  It does not envy.

  It does not boast.

  It is not proud or rude.

  It does not demand its own way.

  It is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs.

  Love does not delight in injustice, but rejoices when the truth wins.

  It never gives up.

  Never loses faith.

  Is always hopeful.

  And endures through every circumstance.”

  As Gaedric speaks, Mister Alfred closes his eyes, a peaceful smile settling on his face as he listens.

  “Year 6,” Gaedric continues, his tone softening, “get used to the word love.”

  He smiles.

  “In fact—let me start with this.”

  “I love you all.”

  The reaction is mixed. Some students look startled. Others shift awkwardly in their seats. A few—very few—feel something genuine settle in their chests.

  Gadeon turns his head away, visibly uninterested.

  “You’re young,” Gaedric goes on, “and this is something you need to hear. You are loved. Not just the ones who can use Chi-Lungs—but also the ones who can’t.”

  Several students wearing breathing masks glance at one another. Some straighten slightly.

  “Let’s say—purely hypothetically—that I suddenly awaken Chi-Lungs,” Gaedric says. “And somehow, impossibly, I can use every tribe’s Flexing.”

  Ami smirks.

  “Water. Fire. Earth. Wind. Lightning.”

  He pauses.

  “But if I don’t have love—if I don’t love others, if I don’t love myself—then all of that power means nothing.”

  The Year 6s listen in silence now.

  “You’re probably wondering why I’m saying all of this out of nowhere,” Gaedric says. “What does this have to do with the assembly?”

  He reaches into his pocket.

  Then raises a small packet of powder into the air, holding it up so everyone can see.

  Some students look genuinely confused, turning to each other in whispers. Others—especially those with masks hanging around their necks—look far worse. Panic flickers across their faces. Eyes dart. Shoulders stiffen. A few avoid eye contact entirely.

  Gaedric and Mister Alfred notice immediately.

  Their gazes sweep across the hall—not judging, not angry—just observing. They register the students who suddenly look uncomfortable, the ones shifting in their seats, the ones pretending to look anywhere but the stage.

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  Their eyes meet briefly.

  They know, that look says.

  Or at least… they know something.

  Gage watches the packet from his seat.

  That looks like some kind of candy, he thinks.

  Gadeon narrows his eyes.

  A packet like that…

  A drug?

  “I’m saying all of this because of this,” Gaedric says, raising the packet higher. “This was found by a student at this dojo.”

  A murmur ripples through the hall.

  “I won’t say who,” he continues calmly. “But let me be clear—this is not candy. It is not a sweet. It is a drug.”

  At the word drug, gasps erupt across Year 6. Fear, shock, confusion.

  Gaedric exhales quietly.

  Thank God, he thinks. They’re still kids.

  “These substances aren’t sold in shops,” he goes on. “They come from suspicious people. And more often than not—they don’t just sell them to you.”

  He pauses.

  “They get you to sell for them.”

  Ami’s eyes widen.

  Sell?

  One boy, Sheriff—part of the group Glace had led earlier when they came to defend Gadeon after Gage interfered, the same moment when Gadeon spat on Gage—breaks into a cold sweat. His fingers twitch as he reaches for his mask, hesitates, then freezes.

  Shit! Shit! Shit! It’s my fault! Shit! They’re onto us.

  “There is currently an investigation underway,” Gaedric says evenly. “And we’ve informed the Current Keepers. They are involved now.”

  The boy’s breath hitches. His chair scrapes softly as he raises a hand.

  “Sir—can I go to the toilet?”

  Gaedric nods without hesitation. “Go.”

  As the boy rushes out, Gaedric continues.

  “If anyone is threatening you,” he says, voice firm now, “or forcing you to take or handle these—tell us. If anyone even talks to you about them, we need to know.”

  He lets the silence settle.

  “These drugs may taste sweet. They may feel pleasurable.”

  Then, colder:

  “But the result is death.”

  The word lands like a weight.

  Several students stiffen. A few swallow hard.

  “Death?” Gadeon mutters under his breath. “Pfft.”

  “So there are new rules,” Gaedric says. “From now on, students will be searched when entering the dojo. Male staff will search boys. Female staff will search girls.”

  Instant uproar.

  Groans. Complaints. Protests.

  “And from now on,” he continues over them, “you will be dropped off and picked up by your parents. No exceptions. If that doesn’t happen—don’t come in.”

  The noise grows louder.

  Ami doesn’t complain. He bites his bottom lip, eyes wide, fear curling in his chest.

  “Year 6,” Gaedric says gently, raising his hand for silence, “we’re doing this because we love you.”

  The room quiets again.

  “You won’t find satisfaction in this,” he says. “And to those of you who have taken it…”

  He pauses.

  “We still love you. I still love you.”

  Several masked students look down. Some blink rapidly.

  “If you want to speak to me after this—come. I won’t force you.”

  His eyes sweep the hall once more.

  “But I promise you—this will not satisfy you.”

  Gadeon frowns.

  Why does he keep saying that?

  Is that what the drug does?

  “That’s all from me,” Gaedric says, stepping back. “Mister Alfred?”

  Mister Alfred steps forward, nodding.

  “You’ve heard what matters,” he says. “A gentleman carries love. Let that guide you.”

  He smiles.

  “You may be dismissed.”

  The class was dismissed, students filing out toward home. Most laughed and chatted as usual—but a few didn’t.

  The students with masks hanging loosely around their necks moved slower than the rest. Their conversations were hushed, their expressions tight. Some looked conflicted. Others looked afraid.

  So what Glace tried to introduce me a while ago…

  Was that connected to the drug? Gadeon thinks.

  Gaedric and Mister Alfred leave the assembly hall together, walking side by side toward the offices.

  “I really loved your speech about love, Gaedric,” Mister Alfred says warmly. “That’s exactly why you’re our Head of Pastoral.”

  Gaedric chuckles. “Oh, come on. Your opening—checking in on the year group, acknowledging their progress—that was respectable. Really.”

  “Thank you,” Alfred says, smiling. Then, more thoughtfully, “But honestly… I didn’t expect you to openly say you love them.”

  “They’re young,” Gaedric replies. “They need to hear it. Some of our students may have never heard the words ‘I love you’ in their entire lives. Or barely at all.”

  He pauses.

  “If they don’t hear it now, they grow up without understanding what love really is. They’ll make up their own twisted versions of it—what it looks like, what it feels like.”

  Mister Alfred nods slowly. “You’re right.”

  Then, hesitantly: “Are you implying some of them may have… fallen in love with the drug?”

  “Of course,” Gaedric answers. “Especially because of what it does.”

  “What it does?” Alfred frowns. “Is it really that addictive? That tasty? The risk for pleasure alone doesn’t seem worth it—even for kids.”

  “I lied about that part,” Gaedric says calmly.

  Alfred stops walking.

  “You—lied?”

  “I exaggerated it so they’d fear it,” Gaedric says quietly. “So they wouldn’t even think about touching it.”

  Alfred stares at him. “Then what does the drug actually do?”

  Gaedric doesn’t answer immediately.

  “It gives the individual the ability to Flex.”

  Mister Alfred freezes. The colour drains from his face.

  “WHAT?!” he blurts out. “That’s nonsense!”

  “Shh,” Gaedric says quickly. “Not here. Let’s not make a scene in the hallway.”

  Alfred lowers his voice, shaken. “Is that why the elder SLT looked so disturbed when they saw you with it?”

  “Probably,” Gaedric replies. “It’s an extremely serious drug.”

  “But—if it lets people Flex,” Alfred says, struggling to process it, “isn’t that… good? Wouldn’t it counter Gluttoneria?”

  Gaedric shakes his head.

  “It doesn’t let you Flex like any existing Tribe.”

  “Then how does it work?”

  “It forces your body to Flex.”

  Alfred blinks. “Forces… your body?”

  “As literally as it sounds,” Gaedric says. “The drug allows Flexing through the body itself.”

  A chill runs through Alfred.

  “With blood,” Gaedric continues.

  “Muscles. Bones. Hair. Organs.”

  Alfred feels sick.

  “We call it Bio-Flexing.”

  “…Bio-Flexing,” Alfred repeats, disturbed just saying it out loud.

  “Does anyone else know what this drug is capable of?”

  “Some of the SLT members know,” Gaedric says quietly. “The government knows as well. But honestly… if it’s reached our kids, then at this point, anyone could know about it.”

  Mister Alfred exhales slowly.

  “Wow… where did a drug like this even come from? And how do you know so much about it?”

  “All I can say,” Gaedric replies, “is that the drug has always existed. It’s extremely rare—especially underwater. You mostly hear about it above the surface. Even then, sightings are scarce.”

  He pauses.

  “And how I know about it… that comes from my adventures around the world when I was young. That’s all I’ll say.”

  “Adventures?” Alfred repeats. “Do you at least know how the drug is being created?”

  “It comes from an organisation,” Gaedric answers. “They’re above… somewhere in this world. What shocks me most is that it’s reached here. That means some of their members have infiltrated this city.”

  Alfred’s expression tightens.

  “This is far worse than I imagined. What you said at the end of the assembly—do you really think any of the students will come forward on their own?”

  He hesitates.

  “And what about the student I first found the drug on? Should I question him immediately?”

  “No,” Gaedric says firmly. “They’ll come.”

  Alfred looks at him.

  “Did you not see their faces?” Gaedric continues. “Especially the ones who can’t breathe underwater. That’s who they’re targeting—clearly. The ones who lack.”

  “Lack…” Alfred murmurs. “So that’s why you spoke about love.”

  Gaedric nods.

  “If you have love, you can’t lack anything. These children are young. They’re still discovering who they are—forming their identities.”

  He slows his pace.

  “But from birth, we measure them by whether they can Flex or not. That pressure forces them to grow up too fast. To be the strongest. The best Flexor.”

  “And eventually,” he adds, “they stop loving themselves—and start loving only what they can produce. What they can use. That becomes their identity.”

  Alfred finishes the thought quietly.

  “So no matter what they become… whether they can Flex or not… we should still love them. Because they’re our students. They’re here to learn—disadvantages and all.”

  “Exactly,” Gaedric says. “I just wish we could hold assemblies for the parents instead of the children. Because when these kids go home… that’s where the real lessons are being taught.”

  Alfred sighs.

  “But what about the student I found the drug on?”

  “Don’t go to him yet,” Gaedric replies. “I’m concerned about his state of mind. He’ll think this is his fault—that he caused all of this. That kind of guilt would crush him.”

  “And even if you question him,” Gaedric adds, “he won’t tell you anything.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “He’ll feel like a snitch,” Gaedric says simply. “Which means he’ll talk to his friends first.”

  He looks ahead.

  “And I have a feeling… that’s where we’ll get our answers.”