Chapter 5

After getting home, it took Nathan five minutes to wash up. He headed to his bedroom, but he tackled another science practice exam instead of going straight to bed. Senior year was a grind. In his previous life, Nathan would never have been this disciplined. Back then, he would've just crawled under the covers and spent the night reading novels. But now, with a second chance at life, he felt a genuine drive to study. After all, studying had a certain clarity to it—put in the effort and you'd see results. It wasn't like the adult world, where if you didn't try, you got nothing—and even if you did try, there was still a good chance you'd get nothing. It was brutal but true. Halfway through his practice test, Viola walked in and set a bowl of mushroom soup on his desk. She also left 20 dollars for his expenses tomorrow. In 2009, the Centralis Bank's four-trillion-dollar stimulus hadn't yet fully kicked in, so prices were still reasonable. A meal with one meat dish and two sides at the school cafeteria cost four dollars, and a big drumstick was only two. Viola's 20 dollars a day was more than enough. Nathan's family wasn't exactly poor, but they weren't wealthy either. They were an ordinary dual-income household. Nicholas worked grueling night shifts at a steel factory, and Viola taught music at a middle school. The two of them saved whenever they could, but they never let Nathan feel deprived. They always tried to give him the best they could within their means. Families like theirs were often this way—traditional and not as expressive as other families. They didn't say "I love you" out loud. Instead, they showed their love in the small details of daily life. After finishing the practice test, Nathan collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep instantly. At 18, with a body in perfect health, he had no trouble sleeping. It felt like he had just closed his eyes when the alarm went off, and suddenly, it was 6:30 am. Nathan got up, got dressed, washed up in record time, grabbed the 20 dollars Viola had left for him, and headed out for school. But instead of going straight there, he took a detour to find Oscar. Oscar's family ran a breakfast bar, and his father, David Knowe, made stuffed rolls with thin skins and generous, juicy fillings. They were insanely good. Yes, Nathan was there to mooch breakfast. In fact, over his three years of high school, he hardly ever paid for breakfast. Whatever he saved went toward impressing Cheryl. He soon reached the breakfast bar, where David and his wife, Sabrina Dawson, greeted him warmly despite the morning rush. They gestured toward a corner table. Oscar was already there, slurping up pasta. A plate of stuffed rolls, a bowl of creamy millet porridge, and a side of pickled bites were all set out for Nathan. David and Sabrina hadn't had much formal education and had that streetwise, small-business-owner vibe. But they genuinely liked Nathan. Especially David, who often joked that Nathan was like a second son. Nathan sat down next to Oscar, watching his best friend devour his pasta. He found himself wondering where Oscar's life would lead over the next decade. In his last life, Oscar had done slightly better in school than he had, landing him a spot at a mid-tier university in the province. After graduation, he didn't pursue a master's degree. Instead, he started working as a laborer at a steel mill. The steel industry, though… Anyone who knew, knew. After ten years, it was plagued with severe overcapacity. Oscar joined Liberty Union in 1949, but just a few years later, the factory was already struggling. He switched jobs several times after that and even nearly fell for a pyramid scheme. His marriage didn't fare much better either as he and his restless wife argued constantly. By the time he was 30, Oscar's hair was already turning gray. And the stubborn guy never changed. Even in Nathan's past life, when Nathan had made billions, Oscar refused any financial help and insisted on toughing it out on his own. "Nate, we grew up together since we were kids. You're my only real friend, and yeah, you could help me out, but the second I accept it, things between us wouldn't be the same." Those were Oscar's exact words back then. He was still that foolish, pure-hearted kid. "Nate, is there something on my face?" Oscar shifted uncomfortably under Nathan's gaze. Munching on a stuffed roll, Nathan mumbled, "Ossie, when you get a girlfriend someday, you've gotta let me approve her first." "Nate, you're getting a bit full of yourself. Let you approve her? Who are you, my dad?" "Not quite. At most, I'd be your godfather." "I'm older than you!" "Doesn't matter. It still works." After a few seconds of silence, Oscar's expression turned serious. "Nate, I'm not even thinking that far ahead. Look at me—my grades aren't great, I'm not as good-looking as you, and my family's just average. What girl would ever be interested in me? Forget Lily or Cheryl, even Wendy probably wouldn't give me the time of day." Nathan was a bit surprised. Oscar was unusually self-aware! So, how did he end up in that mess years later? "Ossie, I'm honestly proud of you for knowing yourself this well." "Oh, shut up. Can't you just say something nice for once?" "Fine…" Nathan chuckled. "Ossie, you can have average grades, a mediocre job, and an average face. You can be not-so-smart, not-so-talented, and not-so-motivated. It's no problem at all. But—" He drew out the last word for emphasis. Oscar watched him eagerly, sure Nathan was about to offer some genuine words of encouragement. He braced himself, ready to soak up the pep talk. He was prepared to feel inspired. But Nathan pointed to himself, his expression dead serious. "But I can't." Oscar nearly choked. "Nate, you're such a jerk!" … As soon as school started, their homeroom teacher, Layla Finn, entered the classroom with a stony expression. Layla was in her early 40s and was always dressed stiffly, with a gaze sharp as a knife. Even with two lifetimes of experience, Nathan still felt a bit nervous. Some fears seemed to be embedded in his DNA. Besides being the homeroom teacher for Class Six, Layla was also the assistant head of the senior year office and the leader of the Hanvian lesson planning team. She held considerable authority across the entire grade. As she stepped up to the podium, the classroom fell silent. She didn't speak right away. Instead, her sharp gaze swept over the room, making eye contact with each student in turn. That alone was enough to make everyone sit up straighter. Nathan understood by now—this was one of Layla's methods for keeping the class in line. A more accurate description might be a "compliance test". As a senior-year homeroom teacher, she didn't need to be friends with her students. What she needed was their respect—and a little fear. "There's something I need to announce," she began, her voice calm but weighty. "Friday and Saturday will be the third diagnostic exam. It's the last national standardized exam you'll take before the college entrance exams… Everyone needs to take it seriously…" An invisible cloud of pressure seemed to settle over the room. Unless they were one of those geniuses who aced every test, no student didn't dread exams. Class Six was an honors class for seniors, but it wasn't on the same level as Class One or Class Two, the two advanced classes. There were no geniuses here. Oscar was looking pretty nervous, squirming around in his seat. He had this bad habit since he was a kid. Whenever he got anxious, he'd start wiggling his butt. It was a good thing people were innocent back in those days. In the modern world, he'd definitely get mistaken for a scheming bastard. "Nate, another test is coming up… I have a bad feeling about this one. I think I might bomb it," Oscar whispered after Layla left the classroom. "So what if you bomb it? It's not the college entrance exams. Why are you so worked up?" "Aren't you nervous? Your grades are worse than mine!" "That was the old me. I feel like I've unlocked my full potential now. I'm a total beast." "Yeah, sure." Oscar rolled his eyes. "Wanna make a bet? Let's see who scores higher." "Alright, loser treats the other to lunch." "Well, I won't say no to a free meal." Oscar was feeling pretty confident. Poor Oscar had no idea that Nathan was basically a cheat code now. Nathan was brimming with confidence. … Their last class in the morning was P.E., so Nathan made it to the cafeteria a few minutes early. Oscar was with him. The two of them had been lunch buddies all through high school. "My good son, grab three meals," Nathan said, pulling out the 20-dollar bill Viola had given him and handing it to Oscar. Between him and Oscar, there was no concept of who owed who. They practically shared their pocket money. Come to think of it, Nathan had probably mooched more off Oscar than the other way around. In his past life, a big chunk of Nathan's allowance had gone to impressing Cheryl. "Quit calling me that!" Oscar shot him a glare, but he still took the money and went to grab lunch. Oscar had just stepped away when a tall, athletic-looking guy with a sunny smile sat down next to Nathan. Nathan frowned. "Hey, dude. This seat's taken." The guy frowned back. "Dudu? You don't recognize me?" Nathan chuckled. "You're not a hundred-dollar bill. Why should I know who you are?" The sunny guy let out a cold laugh. "Nathan, cut the act. First of all, we've been in the same class for three years. Second, I've been the class president all three years, and I've also been the school's model student three years in a row. "My reputation's pretty well-known around here. There's no way you don't know me." Nathan finally remembered. Oh, it was this guy. His name was Justin Larson, and he was one of Cheryl's die-hard admirers. Both he and Nathan were Cheryl's fanboys, though they had very different approaches. Nathan might have been clingy, but at least Cheryl occasionally threw him a bone, giving him a bit of positive reinforcement now and then. Justin, though… was more like the tragic "nice guy" straight out of a drama. "If you really love someone, you just want them to be happy, even if that happiness doesn't come from you." That was Justin's "love philosophy". He was a total hopeless romantic. Nathan glanced at him. "So, what do you want?" "Nathan, I pulled some strings and found out you made Cherry mad." Justin raised an eyebrow. "Do me a favor and go apologize to her." He pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket and slapped it on the table. Nathan couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Justin trying to act all high and mighty. Some high schoolers liked to imitate grown-ups. But they didn't quite pull it off. "What… What are you laughing at?" "Obviously, I'm laughing at you." Nathan rolled his eyes. "What happens between Cheryl and me is none of your business." "You…" Justin's face went pale with anger. Just then, Oscar came back. Nathan waved him off impatiently. "Get lost, or I'll set Ossie on you to bite." Oscar was tall and broad-shouldered. When he smiled, he looked like a lovable goof, but when he didn't, he had the intimidation factor of a tank. "Hmph, you're not worth my time." Justin spat out a dismissive line, then made a quick exit, looking a bit rattled. He even forgot the hundred-dollar bill on the table. Typical fake tough guy. He talked big but folded fast. Of course, in his mind, he was probably telling himself that as class president and a three-time model student, it was beneath his dignity to get into it with someone as shameless as Nathan. "Nate, what's with 'setting me on Justin to bite'? Are you seriously treating me like some kind of attack dog?" Oscar grumbled. Nathan picked up the hundred-dollar bill from the table. "Ossie, if I told you we could split this 50-50, what would you say?" After a two-second pause, Oscar said, "Woof, woof." Nathan burst out laughing. Justin and Oscar—these two should just form a comedy duo or something. … When someone's looks were off-the-charts stunning, it was like they were walking around with a passive area-of-effect skill, drawing attention wherever they went. As soon as Lily appeared at the entrance of the cafeteria, the whole place buzzed. Countless eyes turned to her. Like all the students, she wore the blue-and-white school uniform. Her long hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, each strand sleek and perfectly in place. Her hair was so shiny and full, it could make anyone envious. School uniforms usually looked awkward on most people—too long here, too short there. But on Lily, it fit perfectly, almost like it wouldn't dare to mess with her. Her beauty needed no further description. She had that dangerously gorgeous face and almond-shaped eyes that were both sharp and bright, radiating the perfect "femme fatale" vibe. Lily normally didn't eat in the cafeteria. Her family's housekeeper would prepare her lunch and deliver it to school on time. To others, this just made her seem even more aloof and unapproachable. But the truth was, she had always wanted to eat in the cafeteria. She just never quite had the courage. High school students usually went to the cafeteria with one or more lunch buddies. For boarding students, it was often the whole dorm heading out together. The problem was that Lily didn't have any friends. That was until she met Nathan, a friend who always had a lot to say. "Oh my god, Lily actually came to the cafeteria?" "This is big news…" "I wonder who's lucky enough to get to sit with her?" As murmurs spread, practically every guy was staring at Lily. But whenever her almond-shaped eyes swept in their direction, they immediately looked down, and some even blushed bright red. That was just the effect Lily had. She didn't mean to, but her beauty was almost weaponized. "Over here!" Nathan stood up and waved at her. While everyone else thought Lily was strutting around like a queen, the truth was that her first trip to the cafeteria had her feeling extremely nervous. She kept her face perfectly neutral, determined not to show any expression. But when she saw Nathan waving, the tension in her chest finally eased. She started walking toward him, and the ice-cold mask she wore softened. The corners of her mouth lifted in a gentle smile—one that was as breathtaking as it was rare. Wait… did they see that right? In the three years since she had been at this school, Lily had never smiled in public before. The sight was like a gust of spring wind, stirring the hearts of every guy in the cafeteria. Her smile, faint as it was, was truly mesmerizing.