Stolen Tapes

She tried opening the door slowly, but in a silent auditorium as massive as a football stadium, the creak still echoed loudly enough to make every head turn.

Wonderful.

Feeling hundreds of eyes lock onto her, Aru swallowed hard. Her gaze swept across the room—the anchor on stage, the previous participants who had just stepped down, the judges seated in the front rows. Everyone was staring at her like she’d interrupted something sacred.

Everyone except for one person.

Her eyes landed on a figure tucked away in the corner. Only the side of his face was visible beneath the harsh stage lighting. Earphones plugged in, eyes closed, fingers tapping softly against the armrest as though he alone could still hear music in a room drowning in silence.

Oddly enough, his calm composure made it easier for her to breathe again.

“Aru!”

The sharp whisper came from the right side of the third row below her. Instantly, the audience’s attention snapped back to the front. Aru hurried down the steps toward the voice, stealing one last glance at the unbothered stranger before slipping into her seat.

“Sorry,” she whispered, settling beside Sophie Williams. “I got caught up—”

“It’s fine,” Jason Kim cut in quietly from her other side. “The legendary debate hasn’t started yet.”

Aru frowned. “Legendary debate?”

“Yeah,” Sophie chimed in. “Didn’t you check the participants’ list? Camille Bennett is competing.”

“Uh, excuse me?” Aru muttered. “If you guys made me miss my Data Structures lab for this, there better be a bloodbath.”

Jason snorted while Sophie rolled her eyes.

Up on stage, the previous debate wrapped up as the anchor stepped toward the microphone to announce the next round.

“True,” Jason whispered as the auditorium fell silent for the judges’ scoring. “But do you know whose blood it’s gonna be?” His eyes gleamed with excitement. “The poor unlucky fella competing against her.”

“Oh, please,” Sophie scoffed. “Anyone who thinks he’s losing is one hundred percent delusional.”

“Oh, really?” Jason started, but the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers before he could continue.

“Representing the Pre-Law program, please welcome Law and International Governance major, Camille Bennett.”

The auditorium quieted almost instantly.

The sharp click of heels echoed against the vinyl flooring as Camille Bennett walked toward the stage, calm and composed beneath hundreds of watching eyes.

Aru, Sophie, and Jason followed her movement instinctively.

Camille Bennett.

Daughter of Markov Bennett—an infamous criminal defense attorney who had locked away some of the most notorious figures in the country—and Suzanne Bennett, a corporate lawyer retained by multiple Fortune 500 companies.

Despite coming from a legal dynasty, Camille was a genius in her own right. Though only a third-year undergraduate student, she had already participated in multiple high-profile mock trials, assisted on major cases, and earned two major industry dispute wins under her name. Prestigious law firms were practically waiting for her to graduate.

Yet no one could accuse her of surviving on legacy alone.

She proved her worth every single time she spoke.

Camille carried brilliance with the kind of elegance that intimidated people without trying. When she spoke, the room listened. When she walked, people noticed.

Just like now.

She took her place behind the podium, posture straight and expression unreadable.

“See?” Jason nudged Sophie smugly. “I told you. She’s going to dominate.”

Aru glanced back toward the corner.

The mysterious man with the earphones tilted his head slightly, opening his eyes just long enough to look toward the stage before settling back again.

So he wasn’t completely lost in his music after all.

“And then she’s going to become Debate Committee Leader,” Jason added.

They were at Aethelgard Global University—a university of the elite, for the elite, by the elite. It was world-renowned for its fierce programs ranging from Fine Arts and Multimedia to Social and Political Studies, alongside every competitive STEM discipline imaginable.

The campus thrived on high-stakes talent shows, debate competitions inviting world-renowned figures, intense drama showcases, hackathons, and science fairs displaying real published research. It was a world filled with geniuses and beautiful people alike. Academically brutal and financially punishing, every program maintained an absurdly low acceptance rate.

To walk these halls, you had to be both filthy rich and terrifyingly brilliant.

And for the ones who weren’t rich enough, the pressure was even worse. Every major offered only one full scholarship.

Given its reputation, Aethelgard was currently preparing for a global debate tournament and finalizing its roster. Camille Bennett’s spot had already been secured. The remaining spot—and, more importantly, the captaincy—was what today’s debate would decide.

“Oh, please,” Sophie shot back. “You clearly don’t know how great Theo is. She won’t stand a chance.”

“Theo?” Aru repeated, confused.

“Since when do you call him Theo?” Jason asked immediately, a hint of jealousy slipping into his tone.

Aru picked up on the tension instantly and wisely stayed out of it.

“Everyone does,” Sophie shrugged casually.

“On the other side of the motion, bringing a perspective grounded in logic, ethics, and critical theory... please welcome Philosophy major, Theodore Laurent.”

The reaction was immediate.

Whistles and loud cheering shattered the silence of the auditorium—a complete contrast to Camille’s entrance.

The applause dragged on long enough to become awkward.

But no one walked onto the stage.

Confused murmurs spread through the crowd. Aru looked toward Camille, but the girl remained perfectly composed, her intimidating presence untouched by the delay.

Aru couldn’t help wondering what kind of person could make a room react like this.

“Theodore Laurent,” the announcer repeated.

Still nothing.

The cheering slowly faded into an awkward hush.

His name was called twice more.

Aru’s eyes drifted back toward the corner just in time to see the stranger finally sit up straight and pull his earphones out.

Is he Theodore?

Before she could finish the thought, the heavy double doors at the back of the auditorium swung open.

A man stepped through the entrance.

Dark brown turtleneck. Long tailored overcoat. Hair pushed back in a way that looked effortless enough to be expensive. Beneath the harsh auditorium lights, his dark emerald eyes carried a sharp, almost unsettling intensity.

With polished shoes striking against the floor, Theodore Laurent finally made his entrance.

Born into a legacy even older than Camille’s, Theodore was the son of Vincent Laurent, a renowned federal judge, and Margaret Laurent, an award-winning author known for her work in criminal psychology and law. His family tree was rooted deep in senators, judges, and prestigious statesmen.

Yet despite his legal bloodline, here he was—introduced as a Philosophy major.

The cheering resumed with double the intensity.

Aru could hardly believe this was the same room that had made her nervous just moments ago.

Unfortunately, Sophie hadn’t exaggerated.

Reaching the stage, Theodore completely bypassed Camille, paying no attention to a woman who was usually impossible to ignore. He adjusted the sleeve of his coat before offering the judges a polite, shallow bow that felt strangely old-world.

When he finally spoke, his smooth voice silenced the room almost instantly.

“My apologies for the delay. There was another debate happening nearby—one I simply couldn’t walk away from.”

From the podium beside him, a cold, quiet chuckle escaped Camille’s lips.

“Important? Fair enough,” she remarked, keeping her eyes fixed ahead.

Theodore’s gaze shifted toward her for the first time, amused curiosity flickering briefly across his expression.

“Though a debate about to be lost is rarely considered important,” she added, a razor-thin smile touching her lips.

Back in the audience, Aru nudged Sophie’s arm lightly.

“Who is he?” she whispered, genuine curiosity slipping into her voice.

Her question was met with a dramatic gasp.

“You are asking me who Theodore Laurent is?!” Sophie whisper-yelled, loud enough for several rows around them to turn and stare.

Embarrassment rushed into Aru’s chest as she glanced around quickly.

To her absolute horror, the stranger from the corner—the one who had been listening to music—was now staring at her too.

For a split second, she realized she had been openly staring back at him.

He looked like he had stepped straight out of a Korean drama.

Honestly, she was starting to wonder how many unrealistically attractive people this university had collected in one place.

“You seriously don’t know Theodore Laurent?” Sophie’s dramatic disbelief dragged her back to reality.

“Shh!” Aru hissed. “It’s not my fault I transferred here a month ago, is it?”

Aru’s sudden sharp tone successfully cut off Sophie’s theatrics.

“Yet you’re already at our throats,” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Aru’s eyes narrowed instantly.

“Nothing,” Jason mumbled quickly, looking away.

Sophie grabbed Aru’s shoulder and turned her back toward the stage. “Forget him. Let me tell you exactly who Theodore Laurent is.”

The mention of his name instantly regained Aru’s attention. Anyone who met her briefly would say she possessed a notoriously short attention span, but this mystery was far too entertaining to ignore.

As Sophie began whispering Theodore Laurent’s entire reputation breakdown beside her, the announcer pushed forward with the itinerary on stage, completely ignoring the electric tension building between Camille Bennett and Theodore Laurent.

The announcer stood behind his microphone, cue cards balanced neatly in his hands.

“The motion presented before us is—”

The hall fell silent almost instantly. Aru and Sophie’s whispering died mid-conversation while hundreds of students leaned forward in anticipation.

“Lex iniusta non est lex.”

The announcer paused deliberately before translating calmly.

“An unjust law is no law at all.”

A low murmur spread through the auditorium.

“Holy shit.”

It was Aru again. Her voice was low, yet somehow loud enough for nearby students to glance toward her. She hurriedly muttered apologies while stealing another look toward the mysterious stranger seated in the corner. This time, there was the faintest trace of amusement on his lips.

“I didn’t know you could curse,” Sophie whispered mockingly.

“Well, this is definitely going to be a bloodbath,” Aru muttered, though the excitement glittering in her eyes betrayed how entertained she already was. She loved drama. Especially when intelligence was involved.

“I know it sounds serious, but why are you suddenly so sure?” Sophie asked, still looking confused like nearly half the room.

“The motion,” Jason replied before Aru could. “A philosophy prodigy against a law prodigy debating morality versus legal legitimacy? Whoever organized this genuinely enjoys violence.”

Aru pointed at him immediately. “Exactly.”

Up on stage, Camille Bennett stood behind her podium with effortless composure, one hand resting lightly against the polished wood. Across from her, Theodore Laurent adjusted the sleeve of his coat lazily, though the sharpness in his eyes suggested he was anything but relaxed.

“We will now determine sides,” the announcer continued. “Miss Bennett?”

“Negative,” Camille answered immediately.

Not even a second of hesitation.

A small murmur passed through the audience.

“Mr. Laurent?”

“Affirmative.”

Unlike Camille, Theodore answered with a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips, as though he had expected her choice from the very beginning.

“Well,” the announcer remarked lightly, “it seems we won’t be needing the emergency cards after all.”

A few chuckles echoed through the room as stage assistants quickly adjusted the placards on both podiums.

“So, let us begin. Representing the Affirmative side and speaking in favor of the motion—Mr. Theodore Laurent.”

The applause was immediate and overwhelmingly loud.

Aru frowned instinctively at the reaction before glancing around. Sophie looked practically starstruck, Jason looked mildly annoyed by the excessive cheering, and the stranger in the corner seemed far more interested in the topic itself than the people debating it.

Laurent stepped toward the microphone smoothly, adjusting the cuff of his coat before finally lifting his gaze toward Camille instead of the audience.

“We are taught from childhood that the law is sacred,” he began calmly, his smooth voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. “But history has repeatedly proven that legality and justice are not synonymous.”

The cheering faded almost instantly.

“Slavery was legal. Colonial oppression was legal. Entire governments have legalized discrimination, persecution, and cruelty while still calling themselves civilized institutions.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “Would anyone here argue those systems deserved obedience simply because they were formally recognized by the state?”

The room quieted further.

“The law exists to protect human dignity. The moment it ceases to do that, it loses moral legitimacy. A law stripped of justice becomes nothing more than oppression dressed in procedural language.”

Aru blinked slowly.

Okay. That line was terrifyingly good.

Laurent leaned slightly against the podium.

“To obey cruelty simply because it has been written onto paper is not civic responsibility. It is intellectual cowardice. A government cannot manufacture morality through legislation alone. The moment a law begins violating the humanity it was meant to protect, it ceases to function as law at all.”

He paused deliberately before finishing quietly:

“It becomes violence disguised as order.”

A wave of murmurs spread through the audience before scattered applause followed almost immediately.

The announcer stepped forward. “A powerful opening from the Affirmative. Miss Bennett, your rebuttal.”

Camille didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she studied Theodore for a brief moment, her expression unreadable.

“A beautiful speech,” she said smoothly. “Truly.”

A few students laughed softly.

“But civilizations cannot function on beautiful speeches.”

The laughter disappeared instantly.

Camille rested both hands lightly against the podium, her eyes locked directly onto Theodore’s.

“You speak about morality as though it is universal, Mr. Laurent. It isn’t.” Her voice remained calm, precise, terrifyingly composed. “Morality changes across cultures, generations, religions, and political climates. What one society considers justice, another considers barbaric.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“That is precisely why functioning civilizations rely on institutional law instead of emotional interpretation.”

Laurent’s jaw tightened faintly.

“If every individual gains the authority to decide which laws deserve obedience based on personal conscience, society collapses almost immediately. A radical believes violence is justified for a cause. A thief believes stealing is justified to feed his family. Every criminal in existence believes their actions are morally defensible from their own perspective.”

The room had gone completely silent again.

“So who decides which morality becomes legally binding?” Camille asked calmly. “You?”

The question lingered sharply in the air.

“If morality becomes the standard for legal legitimacy, then law loses the one thing that allows civilization to survive—objectivity. Institutions are flawed, yes. But they are still infinitely more stable than human emotions.”

She leaned forward slightly.

“A law remains a law regardless of whether you personally approve of its conscience.”

This time the applause came louder.

Aru glanced toward Theodore instinctively.

For the first time since stepping onto the stage, his composure shifted almost invisibly. Not enough for most people to notice.

But enough for Camille to notice.

Interesting.

Laurent exhaled a quiet laugh before stepping closer to the microphone again.

“For someone defending institutional law,” he said smoothly, “you place remarkably little faith in humanity.”

“Experience tends to do that,” Camille replied instantly.

The audience burst into laughter.

Even some of the judges smiled.

Laurent’s own smile sharpened faintly before he continued.

“You argue morality is unstable. Fine. But instability does not invalidate truth.” His voice lowered slightly, forcing the room to listen more carefully. “Human dignity is not subjective.”

His eyes locked onto Camille’s.

“If we are discussing reality rather than theoretical perfection, then let us discuss history.” He paused briefly. “Mahatma Gandhi openly violated the laws of an empire. By institutional standards, his actions were criminal. He was imprisoned repeatedly for them.”

A thoughtful silence settled across the auditorium.

“And yet,” Laurent continued smoothly, “history remembers him not as a criminal, but as a moral leader. Why? Because there are moments when human conscience recognizes that legality itself has become corrupted.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“If institutional law alone defines justice, then every resistance movement in history becomes illegitimate by default.”

That landed heavily.

Aru physically leaned back into her chair.

“Oh, she’s about to kill him for that,” she whispered under her breath.

Sophie looked deeply offended. “You sound excited.”

“I am.”

Camille inhaled slowly before stepping toward the microphone again. Unlike Laurent’s controlled intensity, her composure felt razor-sharp.

“An inspiring historical tribute,” she admitted calmly. “But you overlooked the most important part of your own example.”

Laurent’s gaze sharpened immediately.

“Gandhi did not simply declare the law meaningless and walk away from the system. He challenged it politically, legally, diplomatically, and socially. His movement relied on institutions, negotiations, international pressure, and legal resistance.” Camille leaned forward slightly. “He acknowledged the authority of the law, which is precisely why reform mattered.”

A murmur spread through the audience.

“If laws truly possessed no authority once declared unjust, reform movements would never require constitutions, courts, treaties, or political negotiation.” Her eyes gleamed faintly. “People would simply ignore the law entirely.”

That landed hard.

“But they don’t,” Camille continued smoothly. “Because even flawed systems remain necessary for civilization to function.”

Theodore’s expression sharpened further.

“And since you rely so heavily on morality as though it is some universal constant,” she added, “let us discuss how unstable morality actually is.” Her voice remained calm, but the edge beneath it became unmistakable. “Less than a century ago, Gandhi was treated as the unquestionable symbol of moral righteousness. Today, even within his own country, people fiercely debate his decisions, methods, and compromises.”

A few students exchanged surprised looks.

“What one generation considers morally sacred, another generation questions entirely. Morality shifts constantly. Institutional law exists precisely because human conscience is inconsistent.”

The applause this time was louder than before.

Across the stage, Theodore no longer looked amused.

He looked interested.

Genuinely interested.

He adjusted the sleeve of his coat slowly before speaking again.

“Then let us move from historical morality to modern legality,” he said calmly. “Last month, the Apex BioSystems humanitarian leak became one of the most controversial corporate trials of the decade.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately.

“The prosecution demanded the maximum penalty, arguing that international confidentiality laws outweighed humanitarian disclosure. But the lead defense attorney argued that a law protecting corporate genocide carries no legal or moral validity.” Theodore paused briefly. “Humanly speaking, the verdict was flawless.”

The silence deepened.

“Senior attorney Markov Bennett secured an acquittal for the whistleblower by arguing that an unjust law is no law at all.”

Several heads turned instinctively toward Camille.

Theodore never looked away from her.

“He chose justice over the procedural rulebook,” his voice lowered slightly, “proving that the highest form of law is humanity itself.”

Aru’s breath caught immediately.

Nobody in the room was stupid enough to miss the implication.

“When a system punishes the exposure of suffering while rewarding institutional perfection,” Theodore continued calmly, “we must ask ourselves whether legality alone is truly enough to define justice.”

For the first time all evening, Camille went still.

Not shaken.

Focused.

Dangerously focused.

When she finally stepped toward the microphone again, her voice had lowered into something calmer.

“Interesting,” she replied smoothly. “Because The Architecture of Criminal Impulse argues the exact opposite.”

The shift in Theodore’s expression was almost invisible.

Almost.

A subtle wave of realization passed through the auditorium.

Camille tilted her head slightly.

“‘The moment society permits individuals to define justice through emotional morality, it legitimizes the psychological framework of extremism itself.’”

The room had become unnaturally silent now.

“A rather convincing argument made by Margaret Laurent,” Camille continued calmly. “The publication itself argues that institutional law exists precisely because human morality is unstable, self-serving, and emotionally reactive.”

Now even the judges looked tense.

“Without rigid legal boundaries,” Camille continued, “people inevitably justify their worst impulses under the illusion of righteousness. History repeatedly proves that civilizations collapse not because laws are too strict—but because individuals begin believing their personal morality places them above the system itself.”

Neither of them looked away.

And suddenly the debate no longer felt like a university competition.

It felt like two legacies trying to dissect each other alive.

Then—

BZZZZZT!

The timer rang sharply through the auditorium.

“And that is time!” the announcer exclaimed, sounding slightly overwhelmed himself. “An absolutely phenomenal round from both participants!”

The auditorium erupted into applause.

But Camille Bennett and Theodore Laurent remained completely still behind their podiums, locked in an unwavering stare that felt far too intense to belong to strangers.

“They’re both terrifying,” Sophie muttered while clapping. “Who debates like that?”

“You don’t become the best by throwing random facts around,” Aru replied, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. “You need to know exactly where to stab without looking like you stabbed.”

Jason slowly nodded. “Remind me to never argue with law or philosophy students.”

“The results will be uploaded tomorrow morning on the university bulletin,” the announcer declared as the crowd slowly began leaving the auditorium.

Students immediately flooded the aisles in excited discussion while Aru stood from her seat alongside Sophie and Jason.

Almost instinctively, her eyes drifted back toward the corner.

But the mysterious stranger was gone somewhere in the middle of the debate.

And justifying her short attention span, Aru moved on with her friends discussing the lunch menu.

As Theodore came out of the auditorium, his phone buzzed in his coat pocket.

Meet me in the study in 20.

The text was straight, with no reason or explanation attached to it. He took a deep, tired breath before stepping ahead.

“Mr. Laurent.”

He couldn’t mistake the voice, not after today. He paused and waited till she reached him.

“Camille Bennett.” She reached out her hand, but instead of shaking it, he just eyed it, making her chuckle and pull it back.

“It was nice debating you,” she said with a smile, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. “Felt like I met a worthy opponent after a while.”

“I beg to differ, though,” he said with such certainty that she almost laughed out loud.

“Oh?” Camille raised an eyebrow, her smile turning amused. “And why is that, Mr. Laurent? I thought we gave the judges quite a show.”

Theodore turned his body fully toward her, his expression cool but entirely engaged. “A worthy opponent stays inside the arena, Miss Bennett. Out here, we are just two people who overthought a card draw. I don’t feel the need to chase down every person who can quote legal jurisprudence.”

Camille chuckled, adjusting her purse strap. She didn’t look offended at all. Instead, her tone softened into something genuinely warm and friendly. “Fair enough. But I wasn’t trying to chase you down to argue. We’re going to be teammates on the national circuit now, you know. I figured it was a good time to drop the hostility and actually befriend the guy I’m going to be travelling with.”

Theodore looked down at her, a sharp, knowing glint entering his eyes. He leaned back slightly against the corridor wall, crossing his arms. “Befriend me? That’s a fascinating tactic, considering your entire speech. You spent forty-five minutes telling a packed room that human behavior is inherently chaotic, and that emotions like compassion and team spirit are just dangerous, unpredictable variables.”

He took a step closer, his voice dropping into a challenging but conversational murmur. “Now you’re standing here acting like a beacon of camaraderie. It makes me wonder if you even believe in the concept of a friend, or if you’re just applying another procedural rule to blend in with civilized society.”

He expected the jab to prick her pride—to provoke a flash of the fierce legal prodigy who had broken his composure on stage. But Camille just stared back at him, her eyes bright and filled with genuine amusement. Slowly, her smile widened.

“You think I don’t believe in morality,” she said softly, her voice entirely calm. “But you’ve got it completely wrong, Mr. Laurent. I am actually the biggest believer in morals in this entire building. Probably more than you.”

Theodore let out a dry, quiet scoff. “Is that so? Next you’ll be telling me you’re dropping law to join the philosophy department.”

“Never,” Camille countered smoothly, not missing a beat. “Because my belief in morality is exactly why I chose law. If I didn’t care about justice, I wouldn’t care about the system that protects it.”

She took a step closer to him, her calm demeanor holding a magnetic weight that made him freeze. “Think about it. As a philosopher, you’re mostly going to sit in comfortable rooms, writing papers and arguing about the abstract beauty of human ethics over tea. But me? I’m going to be the one actually fighting on the battlefield. I chose law because I want the power to enforce the morals we’re talking about. I want to build the walls that keep people safe. You just want to admire the architecture.”

Theodore stared at her, completely caught off guard. The silence stretched between them, but this time, it wasn’t the suffocating tension of the stage. It was a profound, quiet surprise. Off-stage, away from the fierce rhetoric and the sharp smirks, she wasn’t arrogant or cold. She was entirely grounded, deeply sincere, and surprisingly gentle. She wasn’t trying to degrade his passion; she was challenging him to look at the practical reality of it.

For a long moment, he just processed her words, looking at her with a newfound sense of wonder. Then, a genuine, low laugh broke from his chest. He shook his head, the rigid tension leaving his shoulders.

“Enforcing the architecture,” he murmured, a smile breaking across his face. “Fair enough, Miss Bennett. Fair enough.”

Right then, the sharp vibration of Camille’s phone broke the quiet of the hallway. She pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and nodded to herself before slipping it back into her blazer.

“Duty calls,” she said, her warmth returning instantly as she looked back up at him. “It really was nice meeting you, Mr. Laurent. I genuinely look forward to having more of these intellectual conversations in the near future. We’re going to make a great team.”

With a polite, parting nod, she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the quiet corridor.

Theodore stood by the wall, making no move to pull out his own buzzing phone. He just watched her retreating figure, deeply fascinated. He had spent his whole life surrounded by people who were easily swayed, easily shaken, or entirely predictable. Yet here she was—so completely sure of herself, so grounded, and, in a way he hated to admit, mostly right.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, a faint shadow of doubt crept into his own rigid philosophical beliefs. He stared at the empty hallway for a brief, quiet moment, questioning the boundaries of his own arguments, before pulling himself back to reality. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he turned and finally walked toward his father’s study.

The silence of the big mansion and its dark hallways was suffocating for Theodore. Every time he walked into his house, he felt like he was being put in a cell with absolutely no space to move. It felt as if a pair of hands were always choking him.

“He has been waiting.” Margaret’s voice echoed in the empty hall. Even though she was speaking to her son, who had just entered, she hadn’t spared him a glance. Her eyes were glued to her laptop screen, and her fingers were tapping against the keyboard profusely.

“I had a debate competition.” His answer brought her fingers to a halt.

She just looked at him as if it was his cue to elaborate.

“The university is entering the global debate tournament. They were finalizing the team mem—”

“I thought you would be on the team naturally.” She put down her glasses and leaned back in her seat, radiating authority.

“I am.” Theodore replied through gritted teeth as his eyes caught her questioning head tilt. “Today’s tournament was to decide the captaincy position.”

“So you are the captain.”

It was less a question and more an expectation that should result in a yes. But for once, Theodore was uncertain.

“We don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know?” The househelp busy cleaning the already shining giant hallway flinched at the sudden rise in her voice. Margaret was a rather calm woman. A perfect lady for a highly reputable family like the Laurents. Smart, versed, compassionate, soft-spoken, logical. All of it. An ideal trophy wife. So it was rare for her to lose her calm. But she often did when it came to her only son, Theodore Laurent. The man who was supposed to carry the Laurent legacy but personally seemed to have very different goals.

“After all you have done, and made me do for you, you don’t know?” She got up, marching toward him. “First you go and choose to study Philosophy of all things, disappointing everyone in the family, including your father—especially your father—”

“Isn’t that why I am studying Political Theory too?” he said in a stern voice, staring deep into her eyes.

“Theodore!” Her loud voice made one of the maids drop her duster. She immediately picked it up and ran out, apologizing profusely.

“You aren’t doing anyone but yourself a favor by doing that. We spend millions on you to get into Aethelgard, and of all the things, you chose Philosophy and Ethics, so it only made sense that you study something worthwhile.”

Theodore gritted his teeth sharply, staring right into her eyes. He had given his whole life to his parents, doing what they wanted him to do, and for once he chose what he liked, yet here he was, three years into the program and constantly being reminded by his own mother what a disappointment he was to the whole family. Not a single day, not a single opportunity, did she miss. Slowly, it was starting to feel like she disliked his choices more than his father did.

“And after all this, you are telling me that you don’t know if you are going to lead the debate team or not.” He clenched his fist. “Theodore, you—”

“What’s going on here?”

The other maids ran out now. Vincent Laurent’s voice made Margaret’s rage disappear into thin air. She just looked down as she subconsciously took a step back from Theodore.

“I thought I asked you to meet me in the study.” He directed the question to Theodore, completely ignoring his wife.

Theodore had to take a sharp exhale before he uncurled his fingers and turned to his father.

“I was on my way.” He dragged his feet irritably.

“There won’t be a need for that.” His father paused as he composed himself. “How was the competition?” Theodore glanced at his mother. She was back in her seat, typing again, but this time slowly, with her ears glued to the exchange between father and son.

“It was—”

“Never mind.” He cut Theodore short. “You will be the leader. I talked to the Chancellor.”

Complete shock covered Theodore’s face. He thought Aethelgard was one place where his family’s name wouldn’t work because there were already bigger names there. Like the Indian royal family turned politicians, the Devs; the infamous Hollywood families like the Walkers and the DeLucas; the renowned and wealthy conglomerate families like the Rhodes, Hwangs, and Kims; and not to mention the richest of all, the ones practically pulling strings behind the curtains—the Kangs. Despite the Laurents being a big name in their own world, there were still bigger names roaming the campus of Aethelgard. One of the main reasons Theodore had chosen the university was because it was famous for its competence and known for maintaining fair curriculums. Since there were only big names there, no one was supposed to be big enough to receive favorable treatment or partial decisions—except for a few, like the Devs, the Rhodes, and the Kangs. The Laurents didn’t stand a chance, so how was his father so sure?

“Laurents are bigger than you think, my son.” His father read his expression immediately.

“But—”

“Now you want to run away from leading too?” His mother’s fingers stopped at the sharp remark from his father.

“Laurents are born leaders. We don’t stand at the front, but we lead from the back. Always.” He said it with complete certainty.

“Then why don’t we have a leader at the front in our family?” Theodore’s words made his mother gulp, and he could see his father’s eyes flare.

He knew what he had done. Everyone knew how badly Vincent Laurent had wanted to stand in the spotlight, to be a real leader, but betrayed by his own family, he had lost the campaign the last time—and the time before that, and before that. Now he had a different goal: wanting his son to fulfill his dreams while neglecting him all the while.

“Isn’t that why we have you? To be the first leader at the front.”

Theodore had momentarily forgotten he was his father’s son. If Theodore knew how to cut open a wound with words, his father knew how to slice it wider and rub salt into it. The reminder that Theodore’s existence was only required to fulfill his father’s ambitions hit him hard.

“The dinner is ready.” The househelp interrupted without reading the room, but as soon as she did, her certain voice became hesitant. “Should I… serve?”

“Yes, please.” Margaret chimed in, shutting her laptop off. “You guys can continue the conversation after that.” She glanced at the two men one by one, reclaiming the authority her husband had previously snatched away. “Preferably in the study.”

The househelp hurried away, but Theodore’s words stopped her.

“I won’t be having dinner.”

“Theo—”

“Not just today’s dinner. Any meal from now on.”

His mother was about to question him again, but Theodore calmly faced his parents.

“I am moving out.” She tilted her head questioningly. “The university rules require me to live in the campus boarding houses.”

“The university rules have been that way since first year. Why the sudden change now?” His mother’s voice was firm.

“Because now I am the leader.” His remark was intended as a blow to his father. “I should follow the rules.”

“But Theodor—”

“And whether I am the leader or not, with the studies getting harder every semester, it’s difficult and time-consuming to commute this far every day. I would like to save some time and focus more on my studies. All the preparations are made. I have already talked to the management.”

His father gave him a slight affirmative nod.

“I will be moving out tonight.”

“Tonight?” It was so sudden that Margaret couldn’t process it properly. As she struggled to grasp the situation, Theodore had already bid farewell to his father and was on his way to his room to get his things.

“You did that, didn’t you?” she asked in a sharp tone.

“I just made him the leader. The decision to move out is solely his own.”

“You have to stop torturing him. He is already doing his best,” she snapped. “Your failures are not his to correct.”

His smug expression disappeared, replaced by a stern clench of his jaw.

“We should have dinner before it gets cold.”

With those words, he left his wife alone in the suffocating house.

Meanwhile, Theodore sat on the edge of his bed, holding his head in his hands. Voices echoed in his mind.

You need to be good, Theo.

Your father isn’t a bad person, Theo.

You are going to become a great man someday. Then you can do whatever you want.

His mother’s voice kept echoing in his head, making it harder to breathe. Just then, a knock on his door helped him steady himself again.

“Sir, the driver is ready.” The old man spoke with concern clear in his eyes. Theodore wiped the sweat from his forehead and nodded.

He got up and walked toward his study table. One by one, he packed the books and notes scattered across it into his bag, and just then his eyes landed on the drawer. His fingers lingered there for a moment before he hesitantly opened it. The hesitation only increased when his eyes fell upon the two tapes resting inside. After a serious internal debate, he hurriedly threw them into his bag and rushed out of the room.

“How can you do this to me in the middle of the semester?” The voice sounded utterly frustrated as Theodore made his way toward the counselling room.

“It’s already the middle of the night.”

Theodore opened the door. His eyes met his counsellor, who had an entire apology written across his face, and then shifted toward the frustrated muscular figure whose back looked like he was ready to throw punches at someone.

“Theo, you’re here.” The counsellor looked relieved to see him. “Come, take a seat.”

Theodore acknowledged the greeting and dropped his bag by the door. Only then did he realize there were already two more bags there. Not rich or polished like his, but fully packed and slightly torn.

“Is it him?” The guy finally looked at Theodore.

Theodore was self-centered. Definitely. But not stupid enough to not recognize the big names of the university. The guy sitting there throwing frustrated remarks was none other than Keiji Mori.

He wasn’t from a rich family like Theodore, yet he was famous across the university. Why? Simple. He was a prodigy. A real prodigy. Every student had heard about him—either because they envied his looks and charm or because girls practically worshipped his insane dance skills. Keiji Mori, the gangster of the dance world. He was so talented that the university had made an exception for him, granting him a full scholarship for Choreography while also allowing him to major in Environmental Architecture. An exception like that would be talked about for years in Aethelgard’s history.

“Is he the guy you’re giving my room to?” Keiji sounded even more furious after noticing Theodore’s expensive luggage.

“No!” The counsellor looked horrified by the misunderstanding. “No, definitely not.” Then he turned toward Theodore. “Do you want his room?” he asked with a comically questioning expression, earning another glare from Keiji.

“I don’t even know where his room is,” Theodore replied calmly as he slid into the seat beside Keiji.

“The master bedroom in House No. 12 on Reymond Street. The best one in the campus housing.” The counsellor lowered his voice slightly while speaking to Theodore, which earned him another glare from Keiji. “It’s usually reserved for elite students, but since he was an exceptional scholarship entry, he got the room.”

“Then what happened now?” It wasn’t Theodore’s nature to involve himself in other people’s business, but this seemed like a moral conflict he wanted to understand.

“Some rich brat wants it,” Keiji snorted. “And I’m assuming it’s not you.” His tone had calmed compared to earlier, but there was still enough sharpness in it to suggest that one wrong move from Theodore and Keiji wouldn’t hesitate to annihilate him verbally.

“Definitely not,” Theodore replied calmly before turning to the counsellor. “But I would need a room.”

That shocked the counsellor more than Keiji. There were rules requiring students to stay in campus housing, but many ignored them. Students like the Kangs, the Rhodes, and many others. Honestly, if all of them actually lived on campus, the university probably wouldn’t survive all those oversized egos packed into one space. So mostly scholarship students like Keiji, or moderately wealthy students like the Bennetts, lived there. A Laurent asking for campus housing was unheard of.

“You what?”

“A room,” Theodore repeated calmly. “I need a room in the campus housing.”

“B-but—”

“Get in line, dude,” Keiji muttered, relaxing into his chair. “They still haven’t figured out where to throw me.” Then he instinctively leaned forward, pinning the counsellor down with his glare. “Apparently, they can’t find a room.”

“We are really sorry—”

“Stop the nonsense and just get me a room already. I have classes early tomorrow morning.”

Keiji closed his eyes after saying that, as though he already knew it was going to take a while.

“And I believe you have classes too,” the counsellor said awkwardly to Theodore, who simply nodded. “Right. I’ll just…”

His next words faded as he began rummaging through the piles of papers before him.

Theodore glanced at the man sitting beside him. He seemed asleep already. The guy must have been exhausted. Theodore himself had a tiring day, but he could never sleep like that anywhere. This campus housing was only a temporary arrangement before he found a proper place to move into.

“Here!” After almost half an hour of searching, the counsellor suddenly exclaimed. Keiji sat up immediately, which genuinely surprised Theodore because he had looked completely asleep. “Lucent Street, House No. 7.” The counsellor placed the form in front of them with a wide smile.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Keiji stared at him with a deadpan expression that instantly intrigued Theodore. “That’s where the prince lives with the two playboys. You cannot seriously be throwing me in there.”

The counsellor laughed awkwardly at Theodore’s questioning expression.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Reyansh Dev, Ryan Walker, and Matteo DeLuca.” Keiji deepened his glare. “The whole fucking campus knows.”

Reyansh Dev.

Interesting.

Why was the Indian prince living in campus housing?

“Too many parties. Too much drama. I cannot live with those people.”

“But it’s the biggest house in the campus housing.”

“Yeah. Which the prince and the playboys have turned into their personal territory. No thanks.”

Keiji clearly wasn’t fond of rich people. Theodore found that oddly justified considering everything he had studied about wealth, power, and human relationships.

“The biggest house?” Theodore’s interest shifted elsewhere entirely.

“Yeah. It was originally designed for scholarship students,” the counsellor explained carefully after noticing Keiji glaring at him again. “It can house seven students. But because the number was too large, scholarship students argued it became noisy and distracting. So, to maintain the university’s image of fairness, the policy was changed. Eventually, no one wanted to share a house with that many people.”

The word fairness made Theodore scoff quietly.

“I’ll take it.”

His words shocked Keiji the most.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Theodore motioned toward the form, and the surprised counsellor quickly handed it over.

“Don’t look at me,” the frustrated Keiji barked at the counsellor’s puppy eyes before resigning himself back into the chair again.

The counsellor happily took back the form once Theodore finished signing it, handing him the copies.

“Well then, that makes five people in House 7.”

“Five?” Theodore had only heard about three people. With him, it should have been four.

“Yeah. Dean Park. He’s going to be your housemate too. Really nice kid.” The counsellor smiled fondly. “Gave me the least amount of trouble.” The last sentence was directed toward Keiji.

“The world is filled with fools,” Keiji remarked while closing his eyes again.

“I can shift tonight.”

The counsellor looked slightly shocked by the urgency but nodded immediately.

Theodore took one last glance toward Keiji, who looked entirely unbothered now, before walking outside.

“Drop all my luggage at House 7,” he instructed his butler, who had insisted on accompanying him tonight.

“House 7?” The butler seemed more aware of House 7’s dynamics than Theodore himself. “Won’t it be too crowded?”

“It’s fine. It’s not like I’ll stay there for long.” Theodore shrugged. “Once I find a proper place, I’ll move out. It shouldn’t take more than a week.”

“Then I am the biggest fool in the world.”

It was Keiji’s voice from behind them.

“You signed the form?” Theodore felt slightly guilty, though there was really nothing to feel guilty about. He made his decision, and Keiji made his.

“If Theodore Laurent is fine with sharing a crowded house, how can a lowlife like me say no?” Keiji slung one backpack over his shoulder and grabbed the other with his free hand.

“I’m sorry.” Theodore knew he didn’t need to apologize, but his ethics compelled him to say it anyway.

“You really are into morals and all that shit, huh?” Keiji remarked while descending the stairs. “You know you don’t have to apologize to me, right?” Theodore exchanged glances with his butler. Keiji looked relaxed now. Slightly amused too. “You made your choice and I made mine. No apology needed, dude.”

“But you said—”

“I was just messing with you. Relax.” Keiji bumped his shoulder lightly.

The shocked expressions on Theodore’s face and the butler’s were honestly amusing.

“What?” Keiji grinned. “Nobody’s ever done that to you before?”

Theodore hesitantly shook his head.

“No worries. One week is enough for me to teach you.” He grinned wider, making Theodore genuinely surprised while the butler quietly smiled in the background.

“Come on. Let’s start with me walking you to the house—aka our house for the week, and mine after that.” Theodore looked slightly confused. He studied human morality and ethics, yet had barely interacted with actual people, especially the kind he encountered today. First Camille Bennett, and now Keiji Mori. Hesitantly, he joined him while the butler and the car followed slowly behind them.

“Shouldn’t we just take the car?”

Keiji exhaled sharply.

“Rich people,” he scoffed. “You can walk, can’t you?” He playfully glared at Theodore.

“Of course I can.”

“Then walk. It’s barely five hundred meters away. You can’t rely on a car all the time once you start living on campus.”

“Why?”

“You’ll know.”

Keiji’s words were confusing, but Theodore decided not to question him further.

“Here, let me take that.” Theodore offered to carry one of Keiji’s bags. It was much heavier than expected. So Keiji’s physique wasn’t just for show after all.

“Took you long enough.” Keiji didn’t refuse, and that small gesture strangely made Theodore feel human. For once, he wasn’t being treated differently. Just like a normal student.

“What?” Keiji’s sudden question made Theodore realize he had been staring at him with a stupid smile.

“Nothing.” Theodore quickly looked ahead. “If it wasn’t because of me, then why did you sign up?” It was a genuine question.

“For the house?”

Theodore nodded.

“I didn’t want to hold that poor guy back any longer. He spent the whole day in that office and was still working overtime because of me. You know the academy policy—unless a student’s issue is resolved, nobody leaves.” Keiji’s tone was blunt but strangely kind-hearted. Theodore could tell immediately. “I punished him enough for a mistake that wasn’t even his. It’s not like he could’ve done anything against rich spoiled brats anyway. They always twist things however they want while the people who actually deserve things get pushed aside.”

You will be the leader. I talked to the Chancellor.

Because my belief in morality is exactly why I chose law. If I didn’t care about justice, I wouldn’t care about the system that protects it.

His father’s words and Camille’s echoed together in Theodore’s head. After the conversation outside the auditorium, Theodore genuinely believed the captaincy should go to Camille. But now, once again, what he believed didn’t matter at all.

“Back to earth, dude.” Keiji snapped him out of it again. “Do you do this often?”

“Do what?”

“Randomly disappear into another dimension in the middle of conversations.”

“Nah, it’s just—”

Loud music blasted into their ears as they turned the corner.

“There you go. House 7.” Keiji sighed heavily.

So, this was House 7. It looked less like a student house and more like a bungalow. Aethelgard clearly took its scholarship students seriously too. After all, they were still the best among the best.

In complete contrast to the soothing-looking building and the beautiful garden surrounding it, the house vibrated with loud music. And this was going to become Theodore’s nightmare. Suddenly, one week started sounding like a lifetime imprisonment.

“Let’s go.” Keiji led the way while Theodore took a deep breath and the butler followed behind with visible concern.

Keiji rang the doorbell several times, but the music was far too loud for anyone inside to hear it.

He let out a frustrated sigh.

“Let me call campus authority.” Theodore had just pulled out his phone when Keiji jumped off the porch, marched toward the glass door, and started pounding against it.

“Open the damn door!” he yelled.

Finally, someone noticed them, making Keiji relax slightly before stiffening again.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

He picked up a stone nearby and swung his arm back, ready to throw it at the door, but just then the music stopped and the main door opened.

“Sorry about that.” The man standing at the entrance greeted Theodore politely. Theodore recognized him immediately.

Reyansh Dev.

“The music was too loud. We didn’t hear the bell.”

“But you definitely saw me though,” Keiji muttered before brushing past Reyansh and entering the house.

“Excuse me?” Reyansh followed him inside. Theodore quietly followed too.

If Theodore thought the music earlier was a headache, he was yet to discover worse.

Theodore Laurent truly had no idea what the campus life was about to throw at him.

Author’s Note : ORTUS is an interconnected university romance series following seven couples and one band slowly finding their place in the world. Thank you for giving these characters a chance.