Happy Evil Heartbreaker [Modern LitRPG]

For Xanthia, the high school campus was undoubtedly a goldmine for collecting moments of joy. After all, while others toiled away at their studies, she could find endless ways to amuse herself.

Today's altercation in the hallway outside the classroom was a prime example—a spontaneous fight that offered an unexpected thrill.

Who wouldn’t enjoy the excitement of watching a fiery, no-holds-barred brawl up close? Even if it were just an argument, the spectacle alone would draw a crowd of eager onlookers.

In truth, the other students, numbed by the monotony of daily school life, were even more animated.

At this moment, they felt as if a ripple had finally disturbed their otherwise dull routine.

In no time, students from both Class Three and Class Four had gathered in the hallway to witness this evenly matched battle of the sexes.

The reason for this even match was simple: Oliver wasn’t your typical weak and helpless girl. She was an athletic enthusiast, her body hardened by years of training. As the reigning champion in the shot-put competition, her strikes were anything but feeble.

On the other hand, Lucio was neither tall nor particularly strong, and sports were not his forte. The fact that he could hold his own against Oliver was largely due to the natural advantage of male strength, coupled with his pent-up anger and reckless courage.

Why should a girl be allowed to slander someone with impunity, while a boy must accept it silently?

In situations like this, a real man should throw a punch without hesitation. There’s no point in arguing, as a girl wouldn’t listen to reason. A physical rebuttal was the best course of action.

Lucio might have been known as a “simp,” but he was no coward. Unlike some boys who would cower after being wronged or who were shackled by the outdated notion that “boys should always be gentle with girls,” Lucio believed that right was right and wrong was wrong. Facts and truth took precedence over misplaced chivalry.

The students from Class Three, of course, were more relaxed than those from Class Four, as none of their classmates were involved in the fight. They didn’t need to intervene or break it up and could instead revel in the spectacle with a “the more chaotic, the better” mindset—

“Come on, give it your all! Hit harder, this isn’t intense enough!”

“Seriously? Is this short guy from other class even trying? His punches are so weak, they can’t even get through the girl’s guard. It’s frustrating to watch…”

“That girl from Class Four is a beast! No wonder she won the gold in shot-put. She’s definitely got the upper hand in strength.”

“Bloody hell, focus on her lower body! Punching her face is useless. You’re making us lads look bad.”

“I can’t believe he’s actually going all out on a girl. No chivalry at all. Elena La Loannou’s judgment was spot on—rejecting this guy was the right call. If a guy ever chases me, I’ll have to take a page from her book.”

Meanwhile, among the onlookers from Class Four, a girl who seemed to be a class officer finally stepped forward, trying to break up the fight, “Stop it! You two need to cut it out. This is getting out of hand. If a teacher catches you, and they’re not inclined to be lenient, you’ll both be sent to the discipline office and get punished!”

The girl from Class Four had done her best to stop the fight, and her words did have some effect. After all, the students at First High were used to the strict school rules and were naturally fearful of any form of punishment.

Minor punishments that didn’t go on your record were bearable; at most, you’d have to give a public apology under the national flag and endure the embarrassment in front of the entire school.

But for those more serious punishments that did go on your record, like a major demerit, teachers would often scare students by saying that such a record could haunt them for the rest of their lives, potentially affecting their future careers. Most students would be intimidated by such warnings.

In reality, those who had gone through the system knew better. Concerns about future jobs were largely unfounded; after all, good jobs weren’t exactly lining up for the average worker. Many would end up in factories or as delivery drivers, with no one caring about what was on their school records.

Lucio hesitated for a moment upon hearing the warning, but Oliver, caught up in the heat of the fight, spotted an opening. She aimed a vicious kick at his groin, hoping to finish him off.

Yes, if Lucio dared to insult her prized gold medal, and she considered that medal her lifeblood, then it was only fair to retaliate in kind by aiming for his most sensitive area.

Fortunately, though he hesitated, Lucio remained vigilant. He deftly stepped back, narrowly avoiding her underhanded move.

While he might have lacked Oliver’s brute strength, his agility was superior.

So, after the initial exchange of blows, he resorted to a hit-and-run tactic, dodging her attacks while delivering his own.

Thus, the fight reached a stalemate—Oliver’s heavy blows couldn’t land on Lucio, while his counterattacks were weakened by his need to dodge, failing to penetrate her defense.

This, of course, left the spectators frustrated. What they really wanted to see was the intense, flesh-and-bone brawl from the beginning, with resounding slaps and powerful punches.

But as the fight dragged on, it became unclear whether they were still fighting or had somehow transitioned into a “dance-off.”

The class officer, still trying to intervene, repeated the classic line, “Come on, you two, stop fighting…”

This only reminded many of the onlookers of a famous scene from a romance drama where a fight in the rain turned into something resembling a dance battle—awkward and laughable.

At this point, Lucio couldn’t help but address the class officer, “Look at Oliver! She’s completely unreasonable. I didn’t want to fight her at all; she started it by slapping me twice. All I did was punch her back once!”

“But you stole my gold medal and got caught red-handed. Instead of admitting it, you had the audacity to insult my medal. You deserved to get beaten!” Oliver was still seething with rage.

“I told you it wasn’t me who stole it! Why do you insist on slandering me, you moron?”

“And why is your mouth so foul? Calling me a moron—if you don’t deserve a beating, who does?”

It was quite clear that although the class monitor of Class Four attempted to intervene and stop the impending conflict, their efforts only managed to delay the inevitable.

Just as the battle was about to reignite, a booming voice suddenly rang out across the corridor—

"Hey! Oi, oi, oi! What on earth are you lot doing crowding the corridor like this? The evening study session is about to start! Why aren't you in your classrooms?"

At first, everyone thought it was a teacher, and the students instinctively prepared to scatter like birds. However, they were soon in for a rude awakening—this wasn't just any ordinary teacher.

"Since you're not in your classrooms, no one is allowed to move! Not until I get to the bottom of what's going on here!"

Those who were about to disperse were instantly frozen in place.

Without a doubt, everyone, whether they were involved in the fight or merely spectators, was caught in the net.

Fate had dealt them all a poor hand, for the teacher in question was none other than Dublin, the director of discipline at this school.

Dublin El Murrin was a legendary figure, well-known as one of the "Four Great Terrorist" at the school, or more accurately, the leader of them.

He was the principal's trusted confidant, a man who enforced school rules with an iron fist and an unyielding spirit. The epitome of tyranny. His eyes were sharp, intolerant of the slightest misconduct, and what made students grind their teeth in frustration was his penchant for making mountains out of molehills.

Matters that other teachers might overlook, Dublin would latch onto and use to set an example, to kill the chicken to scare the monkey.

On the school’s online forums, countless students had anonymously cursed this stern disciplinarian, calling him the principal’s most ruthless henchman, a lackey with a mind obsessed with rules, someone who seemed to treat school discipline as his own stepping stone towards a vice principal position.

There were even braggart seniors who claimed they had beaten him up outside of school multiple times, stuffing him into a sack and leaving him bruised and battered.

Though such tales of bagging and bashing were likely tall tales, Dublin’s staff dormitory had indeed been targeted—windows smashed with bricks, firecrackers hurled into his room, the sound of explosions echoing through the night.

The students behind these deeds were usually those who had just finished their college entrance exams and were looking to finally vent the frustration of having endured Dublin’s iron rule. They sought revenge in the most petty, yet satisfying ways possible, relishing any small victory that might disgust him.

Now, with Dublin standing before this group of students, it was clear—he was out to make an example of them.

The new freshmen had only heard tales of Dublin, "the Ruthless One" among the Four Great Terrorists, but they had yet to experience the true terror of a man who clamped down on discipline with a cold, unforgiving hand.

Today would be his moment to establish his authority. With years of experience in catching and punishing rule-breakers, Dublin knew that a group of students gathering like this most likely meant a fight had broken out.

Excellent! Whether they were participants in the fight or mere onlookers, he would capture them all in one fell swoop!

Only such a grand gesture could showcase his might.

Did they think the nickname "Four Great Terrorists" was just for show?

They were gravely mistaken. In every school, the so-called "Four Great Terrorists" might include some teachers who were more bark than bite, resulting in there being five members instead of four. But to be the students’ true nightmare, the one they feared most—Dublin had earned that reputation through sheer, relentless severity.

Lhoraine had been about to drag Xanthia away, never expecting that in the midst of their entertainment, they’d be caught red-handed by none other than the Director of Discipline himself!

"Xanthia, I'm so sorry! It's my fault for dragging you into this mess. If I'd known, I wouldn’t have involved you," Lhoraine whispered apologetically.

"Don’t worry about it," Xanthia replied, unfazed. "Even if you hadn’t pulled me along, with my love for a good spectacle, I’d have come out to watch anyway."

Xanthia remained calm—after all, she wasn’t the type to be easily frightened by high school power figures. What was a director of discipline to her? With so many students here, there was no way they’d all be punished. Surely, the law wouldn’t hold everyone accountable.

Still, she was already thinking of a way to get them all out of this without leaving any incriminating evidence that Dublin could use to make an example of them.

Dublin’s appearance was as intimidating as his reputation. He often wore a stern, expressionless face, and with his large beer belly, he resembled a hulking black bear. The roar he had just unleashed only added to this impression, earning him the nickname "Bear Director" among the students.

Given his terrible reputation, it wasn’t surprising that unsavory rumors often circulated about him, such as allegations of him using his position to make inappropriate advances on young female teachers.

In reality, at a prestigious school like Thessaloniki, there were hardly any trainee teachers. Those who managed to secure a teaching position there were top-notch professionals, making the so-called "pretty teachers" nearly extinct.

As Dublin finally reached the center of the crowd, his beast-like eyes swept over the students, who were all too intimidated by his fearsome reputation to move or speak, waiting anxiously for his orders. Satisfied with this display of authority, Dublin felt a surge of pride—this was the kind of power he thrived on.

His gaze quickly zeroed in on Lucio and Oliver, both of whom were looking rather guilty. Lucio’s face bore the distinct imprint of a slap, and Oliver’s face was flushed—clear signs of a heated altercation.

It wasn’t uncommon for students to get into a scuffle, ending up with red, angry faces after a few blows exchanged in the heat of the moment.

Dublin sneered, his dark face cold as he demanded, "Well, then? What were the two of you doing just now? And what were all these people doing watching you?"

He had already made up his mind about the incident, but Dublin liked to have students confess their misdeeds. To him, it was the only way to handle things properly.

Faced with this, Lucio and Oliver were both cowed into silence, like mice in front of a cat.

What could they do? They were, after all, just high school students. Among their peers, they might show some youthful bravado, but in front of Dublin, the leader of the Four Great Terrorists, the director of discipline, they were all too aware of their guilt to argue or resist.

The girl who had tried to break up the fight, a class monitor named Mimi, looked as though she was about to cry. As the discipline monitor of Class Four, she was well-liked but lacked authority. Unlike her counterpart in Class Three, Lilim, who was known for being ruthless and had no qualms about reporting others, Mimi preferred to lead by example rather than tattle on her classmates.

Yet, here she was, caught by the most unforgiving man in the school, unable to explain the situation without risking the ire of her classmates involved in the fight.

If it had been Lilim, she would have already laid everything out, thrown Lucio and Oliver under the bus, and washed her hands of the matter. That was the way to fulfill her duty as a discipline monitor—without any concern for whether her classmates got into trouble.

"What’s the matter? You dared to do it, but you don't dare to admit it? Hmph! You've committed a serious mistake here. Confess, and your punishment might be just a warning, which won't go on your record. But if you refuse to own up, the consequences will be severe! And as for all of you onlookers, you'll all be writing self-criticism reports! Understood?!"

Dublin's final words were practically a roar, his voice booming through the corridor so loudly that students in all four classrooms on the floor could hear it clearly.

In Class Three, the students trembled with fear but also felt a sense of relief that they hadn’t given in to the temptation to join the crowd. Some even whispered among themselves—

"Bloody hell, this Bear Director is terrifying. His nickname really suits him."

"No wonder he’s the head of the Four Great Terrorists. Absolutely terrifying!"

"Compared to this black bear, even our class’s old Emmanuel seems almost kind."

"Oh no, Xanthia went out to watch the fight too. I hope she doesn’t get scared to tears by the Bear Director."

"Where’s Dematero? He should go rescue her. This is a job for his mystical aura, ha!"

 

No one could have predicted what happened next.

The hallway was filled with students, all frozen in place by the sheer presence of Mr. Dublin, the formidable head of the school's disciplinary office. No one dared to speak, let alone move, under his oppressive gaze. But then, out of nowhere, Xanthia did the unthinkable.

When all hope seemed lost, it was up to Xanthia to save the day!

"Sir, allow me to clarify. These two students haven’t committed any serious offense; they were merely breakdancing! As for us onlookers, we were just their audience, providing some cheering and even a bit of singing as accompaniment."

Her voice cut through the silence, drawing everyone's attention.

Lucio, hearing Xanthia's bold declaration, looked at her with immense gratitude. He immediately chimed in, "Exactly, exactly! We were just practising our dance moves!"

He shot a quick glance at Oliver, signalling her to follow suit. Admitting to a fight now would be disastrous!

Oliver, naturally unwilling to be made an example of for fighting, nodded earnestly. "Indeed, we were just practising our dance routine. We had a minor disagreement about the steps, which led to a bit of a discussion."

Mr. Dublin was momentarily thrown off. He hadn’t witnessed the altercation himself, and while he was hoping to intimidate them into confessing, this quick-witted girl had disrupted his plans entirely.

This girl had guts, that was for sure. How dare she stand up to him, the head of the disciplinary office?

Unwilling to back down, Mr. Dublin turned to the other students for confirmation. With Xanthia setting the example, they unanimously stuck to the story of a dance rehearsal. After all, this way, they wouldn't be dragged into writing self-criticisms either.

Mr. Dublin, eyes narrowing, zeroed in on Xanthia, who had thwarted his scheme. "You mentioned singing as accompaniment? Ha! I’ve never heard a more ridiculous excuse! Since you claim to have been singing, why don’t you prove it right now? Sing the song you were supposedly using to accompany their ‘dance’!"

It was clear that he was deliberately making things difficult for Xanthia.