Chapter 233: The Stray Dog Learns a New Trick

The common room looked like a battlefield hospital.

Bodies draped across every surface. Groans filled the air. The scent of defeat and sweat mingled together in a thick cocktail of misery.

Braxton had shown up for morning training this time. Apparently decided to make up for his previous absence by working us twice as hard. My ribs still ached from where he’d casually drop-kicked me into a wall. Called it "character building." Sadistic bastard.

Jaime lay sprawled on the floor. His massive frame took up an obscene amount of space. "My pythons," he whimpered. Gently stroked his biceps like they were dying puppies. "They’re sore, but they’ll grow back stronger for Sakura!"

Even in pain, the guy was thinking about his hero. I almost respected that level of dedication. Almost.

Raphael sat in the corner. Methodically sharpened a combat knife. Quick, angry strokes. Each scrape of metal on whetstone sounded like a threat. His jaw was clenched tight enough to crack teeth. Still pissed about yesterday.

Juan hadn’t even made it to a proper seat. He’d simply collapsed face-first onto the carpet the moment Braxton dismissed us. Soft snores rose from his unconscious form. The lazy bastard could sleep anywhere. I was almost jealous.

Soomin looked on the verge of tears. Pink hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Emi knelt beside her. A gentle green glow emanated from her hands as she tried to soothe the girl’s aching muscles.

"You’re doing great, Soomin," Emi murmured. "Just breathe through it."

"I can’t," Soomin whispered. "I can’t do this. I’m not like all of you."

My gaze shifted to the losers from yesterday’s race. Akari lounged dramatically on the couch. Fanned herself with a fashion magazine.

"Manual labor," she sighed. Examined her perfect manicure. "It’s so beneath me."

She hadn’t lifted a finger to clean. Hadn’t even pretended to care. The punishment meant nothing to her because shame required giving a damn about other people’s opinions.

Natalia sat rigidly in a chair by the window. Stared out at the academy grounds. Her back was ramrod straight. The silence between us since yesterday’s disastrous training session hung heavy. A lead weight.

Her criticism echoed in my mind.

You’re a terrible teacher.

The words still stung. Probably because they were true.

This wasn’t working. I’d demanded their obedience and received only resentment. I’d pushed them hard, hoping they’d bend. Instead they were starting to break.

Time for a different approach.

I surveyed the scene once more. A collection of broken, exhausted teenagers with godlike powers and the collective teamwork of a bag of angry cats.

Kaelen Leone hadn’t survived by being a good teacher. He’d survived by adapting. By finding the angle that worked.

Time to adapt.

I stood up. Ignored the protest from my own muscles. Braxton had thrown me around the mat for a solid thirty minutes. "Lessons in humility," he’d called it with that lazy smirk of his. I’d wanted to punch his teeth in. Settled for mentally cataloging all the ways I’d eventually make him regret it.

Later though. Right now I had bigger problems.

I moved past the lounging bodies toward the kitchen. Didn’t say a word.

The kitchen was a disaster zone.

Breakfast and lunch dishes piled high in the sink. Food scraps congealed on plates. The remnants of Jaime’s protein shake had splattered across the counter. Hardened into a cement-like crust. It was disgusting.

This was supposed to be part of Akari and Natalia’s punishment for placing last in the race. Cleaning duty for a week. But Akari clearly didn’t give a shit. And Natalia was too busy being angry at me to care.

Without a word, I rolled up my sleeves. Turned on the hot water. Grabbed the sponge.

The chatter in the common room died instantly.

I could feel their eyes on my back. Burning with curiosity. Judgment. Confusion.

I focused on scrubbing a particularly stubborn pot. Let them watch. Let them judge.

A king who expects others to do what he won’t do himself isn’t a king. He’s just an asshole with delusions of grandeur.

My old boss had taught me that. Right before I put a bullet in his skull. But the lesson stuck.

For several long minutes, I washed dishes in silence. The only sounds were the clatter of plates and the running water. No one moved to help. No one spoke.

It was a standoff.

I heard soft footsteps approach.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Natalia appear in the doorway. She stood there. Watched me. Her expression was unreadable.

The cold war between us had reached its peak. I didn’t look at her. Just continued scrubbing a plate with more force than necessary. The ceramic squeaked under the pressure.

Without a word, she picked up a dish towel.

Stepped beside me.

Took the clean plate from my hands and began drying it. Placed it on the rack with careful movements.

The silence between us shifted. No longer angry. Something else. Understanding maybe.

She was publicly aligning herself with me again. Not as a subordinate following orders. But as a partner sharing a burden.

"You were right," she whispered. Her voice so low only I could hear it. "Yesterday. I pushed too hard. Let my pride get the better of me."

Coming from Natalia Kuzmina, this was the equivalent of throwing herself at my feet and begging forgiveness. She didn’t apologize. Ever. The fact that she was doing it now meant something.

"I was an asshole," I replied just as quietly. "Tried to lead you all like attack dogs instead of actual people."

Her lips quirked up slightly. "You’re learning."

"So are you."

Just like that, the ice between us melted. Our partnership reforged. Stronger now because it was built on something real. Mutual recognition of our flaws.

A throat cleared behind us.

Emi stood in the doorway. Her blue hair fell across her face as she looked down shyly.

"Can I help?" she asked.

Before I could answer, she moved to the cabinet. Began putting away the dry dishes.

"Hey, if everyone’s pitching in!" Marco’s booming voice filled the small space. He grabbed a sponge. Attacked the protein shake disaster on the counter.

"Teamwork exercise!" Hikari pumped her fist in the air. Her boundless energy apparently recovered already. "I love it!"

She seized the broom from the corner. Began sweeping with such force I worried she might take up the floor tiles. The bristles scraped against the ground in rapid strokes. She was humming some upbeat tune I didn’t recognize.

Even Soomin timidly entered. Gathered trash bags and tied them closed. Her hands trembled slightly but she kept working.

Not everyone joined in.

Raphael scoffed loudly enough for us all to hear. Stalked out of the common room entirely. The door slammed behind him. Still pissed then. Fine. Let him sulk.

Akari continued painting her nails. Completely unbothered. The smell of nail polish wafted through the air. Mixed with the cleaning products in a nauseating combination.

Isabelle watched from her perch on a bar stool.

Juan remained unconscious. Soft snores continued to rise from his position on the floor.

Skylar put on headphones. Disappeared into her music. Bobbed her head to a beat only she could hear.

You can’t win them all at once.

But as I stood there, elbow-deep in sudsy water, surrounded by the unlikely cleaning crew, I felt something shift. The atmosphere had changed. It wasn’t friendship. Not yet. But it was something.

Cohesion maybe. A shared accomplishment over a simple task.

I caught Natalia’s eye. She gave me a small, genuine smile that made something in my chest twist pleasantly. Uncomfortable. I shoved that feeling down deep. Buried it where it couldn’t complicate things.

Step one: earn their respect through action instead of demands.