Even though Max had chosen not to return to school, classes continued on without him.

The students he had injured were starting to come back, though many lingered at the entrance, hesitant to walk in. They were afraid they might run into Max, unsure how to act, what to say, or what he might do.

However, as the first bell rang and school officially began, they realized something.

He wasn't there.

For most of them, it was a huge sigh of relief. Still, the absence sparked questions, what exactly had happened?

During class, the delinquents began texting each other under their desks, quickly catching up on the latest news. Word spread fast about the incident that had taken place not far from the school itself.

"No wonder Max hasn't shown up."

"Yeah, looks like Dipter finally made a move, showed him who really runs this place."

"I guess that's the end of it. If he's too scared to come back, maybe the rest of you will stop fighting back too."

Their fear began to fade, replaced by a rising confidence. As long as Dipter had their backs, they felt untouchable within these school walls. And with Max gone, they believed nothing could stand in their way.

Still, not everyone felt the same.

The students who had actually fought Max that day, who had seen him up close couldn't share in the newfound confidence. Even though they had come at him together, they remembered how well Max had fought, how strong and resilient he had been.

For them, it was hard to believe Max would just let things go.

If he ever came back to school, would he really stay quiet? Obedient? That didn't sound like him at all. The smarter move might've been to bring him into their circle, to get him on their side before it was too late.

But those thoughts stayed buried. Because even if they feared Max, there was someone they feared more.

When break time rolled around, Dipter was hanging out in his usual spot by the cage. Inside the fenced court, a large group of students were messing around, shoving each other, laughing, and playing rough.

Many of them were talking about Max, and naturally, the conversation drifted in that direction.

"So he didn't show up after all, huh? Not surprising," Snide chuckled. "Maybe he got beat so bad, he ended up in the hospital."

"Maybe he's there right now."

"And that's something to laugh about?" Jay said, his tone sharp. "What if you'd actually killed him?"

"Relax, big guy. You're lucky I did all the work," Snide shot back. "I've been practicing my aim. I knew it wasn't anything serious. Besides, it's not like we can go to his house and drag him out, right?"

"No," Dipter replied immediately, his voice calm but firm. "We're not going to worry about him not showing up. For now, we leave him be. We've got bigger things to deal with."

"What about the girl?" Jay asked.

"Just keep an eye on her," Dipter said. "Right now, we're playing nice. We need to keep up appearances. What I want you to focus on is expanding our network."

He glanced at the two of them, making sure they were listening.

"If there's any trouble, it needs to be dealt with immediately. And if anyone wants to talk or make a move, they come to me. Max… he's not our problem anymore. But if he tries anything, then I'll deal with him myself."

"In that case, I'll make sure to keep tabs on the girl. Just in case something comes up," Jay said, nodding.

"Man, stalker much?" Snide snorted. "Hey, why don't you ask for her number while you're at it?"

Jay shot a glance at Snide, but instead of snapping back or starting something, he just turned and walked away.

Meanwhile, Abby, who was at school that day, found herself oddly relieved that Max hadn't shown up. If they had run into each other, she honestly didn't know what she would've said.

At lunch, she chose to sit with Cindy. The two weren't really talking, at least not to each other. Cindy was doing most of the talking, while Abby just picked at her food, barely taking a bite.

"Come on," Cindy said, trying to sound upbeat. "I think it's better that Max didn't come today. He needs the rest. And besides, it's not like they can ambush him while he's home recovering, right?"

Abby held her chopsticks in place, her food halfway to her mouth but never quite making it.

"Can I ask you something?" Cindy said after a moment. "It's about Max. Did he ever tell you where he's from? Like, what school he went to before this one?"

Something about the question made Abby sit up straighter, her attention sharpening just a little.

"No, not really," she said. "I mean, he mentioned his old school was kind of similar to this one. Said he had a few friends here and there."

"Did he tell you why he transferred? Or anything about his family?" Cindy asked again, careful not to sound too nosy, but she was clearly probing.

"His family…" Abby began slowly. "He did mention something once. The reason he transferred, it's because both of his parents died. And to afford a place to stay, he moved closer to here."

"That makes no sense," Cindy muttered under her breath, chewing on her thumbnail. "Who is he?"

She wanted to dig deeper, to keep asking questions, but the truth was, Abby didn't know any more than that. Something about Max didn't add up, and Cindy could feel it. Something was clearly going on.

****

Even though it was the middle of the day, there was one particular individual sitting inside the Cube, and he wasn't alone.

Despite the hour, he held a glass of whiskey in one hand, sipping it slowly, the amber liquid swirling around the rim of the glass with each thoughtful motion.

"Sir, we have some news to report," said a man in a dark suit as he approached his side. "We've continued monitoring Dipter, like you asked. We've gathered some new intel."

The suited man paused for a second as he mulled in his thoughts, before continuing.

"It seems Dipter has been speaking directly with our clients. They've reported that he's trying to cut you out of the deal, offering to supply them directly, while undercutting your prices."

The moment those words left his mouth, the man holding the glass went still.

His fingers tensed around it, just short of shattering it in his grip.

"I knew this would happen. It always does," the man muttered, his voice low and cold. "People like them, they start thinking they're too big for the game. They forget the hand that feeds them and start imagining they can do it all on their own."

He took another slow sip from his glass, eyes narrowing.

"They were useful… for a while. But now, they're becoming a problem."

He set the glass down with a quiet clink, his tone hardening.

"Send the security team. Get rid of them."

"Yes, sir," the suited man replied with a slight bow before disappearing into the shadows.