Skip to content
Novel Catalog
Gordon had ordered a few dishes for them to eat: a fresh salad, a plate of lasagna, and some grilled chicken. The food was a comforting reprieve after the morning’s tense atmosphere.
Once they finished eating, Gordon stood up to leave. Carlisle noticed that his father seemed to be in a daze, still lingering on the uncertainty about his results. He didn’t comment on it, though; there was no need to add to the worry.
Carlisle had another two papers in the afternoon, but as before, he finished them within an hour. He left the exam hall with his hands casually stuffed in his pockets. With his father already gone, Carlisle didn’t have to worry about any more mocking stares from the other parents.
The weather outside was perfect—clear skies, with a cool breeze that felt refreshing after hours of studying and testing. Just as Carlisle was heading out, a couple of reporters from Riverland TV Station spotted him and rushed toward him.
“Hello. Are you the student who’s been finishing the exams within an hour?” one of the reporters asked, camera in tow.
Carlisle blinked, caught off guard. “You’re right. That’s me,” he said, feeling a bit awkward. Why are there reporters here? It’s just an exam.
Too bad I’m not interested in being an influencer, he thought. He could have racked up followers with all this attention.
“Can I conduct an interview with you?” the reporter asked eagerly, a microphone thrust in front of his face.
Carlisle sighed inwardly. “Sure,” he replied.
The reporter leaned in, asking, “Did you rush through the exam and leave early because you didn’t feel like answering all the questions? Or did you get stuck on some of the harder ones?”
Carlisle shook his head with a smile. “I answered all the questions correctly. I handed my paper in early because the questions were easy. I finished them quickly. Honestly, I got bored sitting in there, so I left to get some fresh air.”
The reporter’s face twisted slightly with a knowing grin. “Can I ask you something else? Did you hurt your face out of arrogance? Did someone beat you up because they couldn’t stand your cockiness?”
The reporter’s snide remark caused a few parents nearby to laugh, and Carlisle immediately picked up on the insult.
“The injuries on my face were caused by a bike accident this morning,” Carlisle said, his voice calm and steady.
“Oh, I see. Well, be careful next time,” the reporter said, though his tone still carried a hint of condescension.
“Thanks,” Carlisle replied without missing a beat, his expression impassive.
“Were the questions tough for you today?” the reporter asked, clearly trying to provoke him.
Carlisle’s grin returned. “It was easy. If it had been hard, I wouldn’t have finished in an hour.”
The reporter, unsatisfied with his answers, pressed further. “Then, could you give me your number? I’d like to continue our interview once the results are out.”
Carlisle raised an eyebrow. “Of course. I can give you my father’s number.”
It was not uncommon for kids his age to not have their own phones, and the reporter quickly scribbled down the number.
The reporter’s goal seemed clear—to capture Carlisle’s breakdown on camera when the results came in, expecting him to crack under pressure.
As Carlisle finished the interview, he saw Lucy rushing toward him, Christine by her side. Behind them, a few men in suits carrying document bags were approaching. They looked like they were from the police station.
“Are you Carlisle Zahn?” one of the officers asked, his voice friendly but his expression stern.
“That’s me,” Carlisle said, frowning slightly.
The officer took out a photo from his bag and held it up. “Do you recognize this man?” he asked.
Carlisle glanced at the photo—it was the man he had fought with earlier that morning.
“I don’t know him,” Carlisle replied without hesitation.
The officer’s gaze hardened. “Are you sure you don’t know him? Or are you just pretending?”
Carlisle gave a dry chuckle. “I did fight with him this morning. Does that count as knowing him?”
The officer’s eyes narrowed, clearly suspicious of Carlisle’s calm demeanor. “Please come with us to the station. We have a few more questions.”
Carlisle’s gaze flicked to Christine and Lucy, both of whom seemed equally perplexed. “Sure,” he said calmly, and the officers led them to a police car.
At the station, they asked him a series of questions about the incident. Carlisle explained everything that had happened that morning, including the accident with the bike and the scuffle. But then, the officer asked one final question.
“You and Christine are barely friends, yet you rode 18 miles just to meet her today. Why?”
Carlisle paused, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He met the officer’s gaze, unflinching. “It’s simple. I did it because I wanted to.”
The officer seemed taken aback by his response, but he didn’t press further. Lucy and Christine exchanged uncertain looks, unsure of where this would lead.
