AIISA glowed under a soft morning sun, the kind that made even stone archways and marble floors look like they were carved from gold. The Rose Garden, usually a sanctuary of quiet scribbles and gentle wind, was unusually alive with whispers and stolen glances.
Because Steven Blake was sitting there. The very talk of AIISA. The boy they were mocking before, and then he returned and shocked entire AIISA. Now a week had passed since his return, but the storm he had brought didn't calm down.
He leaned back in his seat, notebook open, pen gliding across ideas for battery optimization and material refinement. Across from him, Veronica Bennett sketched designs in delicate strokes—her hair swaying lightly each time the wind brushed past.
A moment of peace. A rare one. And then.
A shadow fell over their table.
Not hesitant. Not timid.
A shadow that belonged to someone used to walking into rooms and owning every pair of eyes inside it.
Elias Hart.
Dressed in an ash-gray blazer and charcoal slacks, posture relaxed but presence overwhelming, the Entrepreneurship Guild's president smiled with the self-assurance of a prince visiting his favored territory.
Two elite heirs—silent, polished, dangerous—stood behind him.
The Rose Garden fell quiet enough to hear rose petals shift.
Elias stopped at their table, hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted.
"Steven Blake. You've been difficult to catch lately."
Steven looked up only after finishing his sentence. He closed his notebook with slow, unhurried care.
"Mr. Hart," he acknowledged.
Veronica's pencil paused mid-line.
Elias smiled warmly—yet his eyes were calculating.
"Your move with Griffin Tech was impressive," Elias said. "And Eclipse Note X01…" He exhaled with genuine fascination. "Stunning. A generation ahead in vision."
Steven said nothing.
Elias stepped closer, voice softening, lowering to something intimate yet commanding.
"You have ambition. Real ambition. AIISA has not seen a mind like yours in years."
He extended a hand—elegant, confident, tempting.
"Join the Entrepreneurship Guild. I'll appoint you as vice president personally."
The garden broke into hushed gasps.
No one—not one student—received such an offer on their first month. It was like being handed a crown still warm from the last ruler.
Veronica's eyes darted to Steven.
Steven didn't even blink.
"I'm honored," he said quietly. "Truly."
Elias's smile deepened, sensing victory—
"But I work best unbound," Steven continued. "No titles. No rules. No affiliations. I prefer to build my own path."
Silence fell like a dropped marble, sharp and absolute.
Elias's smile faded—only slightly.
"You refuse?" he asked.
"Yes," Steven said.
A single word. Soft. Calm. Absolute.
The whisper spread through the garden like wildfire.
"He rejected Elias Hart…"
"Is he insane?"
"No one says no to him!"
Elias studied Steven, expression unreadable.
Then, very quietly, he spoke:
"Careful, Mr. Blake," Elias murmured. "People call this freedom… but old families call it arrogance."
Steven finally smiled.
"If they think I'm arrogant, that's their problem, not mine."
A slow exhale escaped Elias—half amusement, half warning.
"A lone wolf, are you?" He turned to leave. "We'll see how long the wilderness stays kind to you."
The moment he left, the garden erupted into a frenzy of whispered theories.
Veronica stared at Steven—not angry, not shocked… but something deeper.
He had just said no to a throne.
By afternoon, Steven arrived at AIISA Tech Society's Research Wing. The AIISA Research Wing was a cathedral of circuitry: transparent server cores glowing sapphire, floating hologram displays, robotic arms assembling microchips in suspended silence.
Noah and Lila walked ahead of Steven, badges clipped to their shirts.
They had already been recruited by the Tech Society days prior—an invitation reserved for the top 0.1%.
But today wasn't a normal day.
Today they had dragged Steven there.
"You sure about this?" Noah whispered. "Rolf isn't like Elias. He's colder. Sharper."
"He's a scientist," Lila said matter-of-factly. "Scientists don't like being told 'no.'"
Steven remained silent as they reached the central lab.
Inside, dozens of prodigies looked up at once.
Screens froze mid-frame. Keyboards slowed. A drone whirred uncertainly.
Because Steven walked in, and Eclipse Note X01 had driven them half-mad with curiosity for weeks.
Rolf Meyer, the Tech Society President, approached him—a tall boy with steel-colored eyes and a mind rumored to rival doctoral researchers.
Without greeting, he handed Steven a thick folder.
Benchmarks. Screenshots. Reverse-engineered diagrams. Thermal readings. Energy distribution models.
"This tech…" Rolf whispered, breath catching as if admitting something painful, "…it's like magic."
Rolf tapped a figure on the benchmarks. "You've pushed the NPU right into an efficiency curve that doesn't exist yet. That's not design; that's a dare."
The room shivered.
Lila smirked. Noah held his breath.
Rolf continued, eyes locked on Steven:
"We want you in the Tech Society. You'll get full laboratory access. No limits. No supervision. No budget ceilings."
A murmur rippled among the members.
"This is the highest offer we have ever extended."
"He could redefine our entire department."
"His OS alone could be a research field."
Steven lifted his eyes from the folder.
"You're brilliant," he said softly. "Your team is brilliant."
Rolf straightened slightly.
"But", Steven continued, "I won't join."
The reaction was immediate.
"What?"
"He's joking."
"He thinks he's too good for us!"
"This guy is unbearable—new money arrogance—"
Rolf lifted a hand. Silence returned instantly.
He studied Steven very carefully, the way one examined an unpredictable chemical.
"…You're not arrogant as people say," Rolf murmured. "You're self-aware. Far more than most."
Steven nodded respectfully.
"I build better when I'm free."
Rolf closed the folder slowly.
"Then I won't force you. But I will watch you," he said softly. "Because people like you don't appear twice."
And with that, Steven turned and walked out—the murmurs swelling behind him like static from a storm brewing in the wires.
And by evening, Steven headed for his third appointment for the day.
The Student Council chamber was built like a judicial cathedral—arched windows, marble floors, long shadows cast by portraits of alumni who now shaped nations.
At the far end sat William Crane, the law prodigy with a reputation sharper than the blade of reason.
He gestured for Steven to approach.
"You've caused quite a storm lately," Crane said calmly without looking up from his documents. "You humiliated Lucas. You disrupted two major factions—tech and business. Now half the campus is recalculating its hierarchy."
Steven stepped closer.
"I wasn't trying to disrupt anything."
"But your actions made you the centre of attention. You have drawn quite a lot of attention. More than is wise."
Steven replied lightly: "I don't chase attention."
Crane's lips twitched.
"Attention is a resource. Here at AIISA, if you do not weaponize it, someone else will weaponize it against you."
Steven didn't respond. He waited.
Crane finally looked at Steven directly, eyes dark and impossibly focused.
"Intention is irrelevant. Results matter."
He folded his hands slowly.
"Join the Student Council, Steven. Your talents will be protected. Influenced. Directed toward AIISA's greater purpose."
Steven met his stare head-on.
"I don't need protection."
Crane's eyebrow lifted half a centimeter.
"Everyone needs protection. Even kings."
Steven's answer was soft.Yet somehow louder than any shout.
"A king with shields eventually forgets how to fight."
Silence curved through the chamber.
Crane sat back in his chair, studying him.
"Declining us," Crane said quietly, "puts you on the board, Mr. Blake."
Steven nodded.
"I know."
Crane's lips stretched into a slow, razor-thin smile.
"Good. Then let's see. I wish a happy and healthy life ahead for both of us."
As Steven walked out, several council members whispered in the echo of marble halls:
"Is he insane?"
"He refused Crane?"
"He has declared himself independent…"
"No one survives long alone here."
But they were wrong. Steven wasn't alone.
He was the center of gravity—and the world simply hadn't realized it yet.
By nighttime, Solaris Tower and Selene's Paradise glowed soft gold under the evening lights as Steven approached.
He didn't even make it halfway before Veronica descended the stairs—quick, graceful, and furious in the prettiest way possible.
She walked straight up to him, eyes blazing.
"Why," she demanded, "did you say NO to every single one of them?"
Steven opened his mouth, but she cut him off:
"Elias Hart offered you power. Rolf offered you unlimited resources. And William Crane offered protection!"
Her voice cracked. Just barely.
"Do you even understand what you've done?"
Steven didn't argue.
He simply stepped closer.
"Yes," he said gently. "I made myself a target."
She stared, breath catching in her throat.
"And," Steven continued, "now every eye is on me."
She swallowed hard.
"You think that's good?"
Steven touched her waist lightly, drawing her closer.
"A very wise man told me today that attention is a resource."
His voice dipped lower.
"I intend to weaponize it."
Veronica's lips parted—half frustration, half disbelief, half something softer.
"…Are you confident?" she whispered.
Steven leaned in. And then kissed her gently on the forehead.
A promise. A vow. A declaration.
She froze. Her pulse stopped—then thundered.
"Don't worry," Steven whispered against her skin. "I don't play games I can't win."
Veronica exhaled shakily. Because she finally understood:
They thought Steven Blake was prey. But he wasn't.
He was the hunter—sitting perfectly still, letting the predators walk into his traps, one by one.
And soon—AIISA would learn exactly who they had provoked.
The Lone Monarch had chosen no throne.
Because he intended to build his own.