Chapter 12: Just one look

"No, no, and absolutely not! There’s no way I’m letting you eat at our table! You’ll ruin my reputation!"

Camila was shrieking so loudly that the entire student body, gathered in the cafeteria for lunch, had turned to look at her.

Meanwhile, Niall kept eating with his usual grin plastered across his face, as if Camila didn’t even exist.

One after another, Jessica, Emily, and Mia gave him an earful too, making it very clear that they wanted him away from their table.

No luck.

There was simply no getting Niall out of the chair next to Lars.

"Come on, big bro! Tell your loser friend to get lost!"

Lars looked up at Camila.

Then at Niall.

Then back down at his sausages and mash and resumed eating.

"If you don’t want to eat with me and Lutz, just sit at another table. Nom nom. There are plenty of empty ones," Niall mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"My brother’s name is Lars, idiot! And you’re the one I don’t want here, not him!"

"Then ask him to get up and come with you."

"Of course I will!"

Camila unbuttoned a couple of buttons on her blouse to emphasize her cleavage, then leaned over Lars with the most seductive expression she could muster.

"Onii-chan... tell him to leave. Please... do it for your sweet little sister..."

Lars slowly looked up.

"Be quiet and sit down. You’re making me look ridiculous in front of everyone."

His tone was so cold and commanding that Camila immediately realized she had pushed him too far.

"Yes, Master. I’m sorry."

She buttoned her blouse back up and, without another word, sat down and started eating. She even made an effort to chew as quietly as she could.

Niall smiled in satisfaction.

"I knew that deep down, you liked having me around."

"You be quiet too."

Niall didn’t need to be told twice.

Jessica, Emily, and Mia stood frozen for a moment, their lunch trays trembling slightly in their hands.

They exchanged puzzled looks, silently wondering why Camila had just called her brother Master.

But the questions remained unspoken.

None of them had the courage to ask for an explanation after seeing how easily Lars had managed to silence someone like Camila.

Once the three girls had sat down as well, Lars lowered his gaze back to his plate.

Complete silence fell over the table.

Lars had barely had time to bite into a sausage when he felt something cold and wet spreading across his thigh.

"Oops. How clumsy of me. I spilled my water," said Ryan Foster, the big red-haired guy and captain of Miskatonic’s rugby team.

"Look on the bright side. When you piss yourself in fear in a minute, no one will be able to tell the difference."

Ryan and the friends behind him burst out laughing. A moment later, a few students at the nearby tables joined in.

Lars looked up at him with complete indifference.

He gave a slight shake of his head and went back to eating as if nothing had happened.

"Looks like you’re not just mute, but deaf too. I thought I made myself clear when I told you never to let me see you with Camila again."

Hearing her name, Camila snapped her head up.

She was already about to yell something like, "What the fuck do you want from me? Get lost!"

But she held herself back and lowered her head toward her lunch again.

Lars had told her to stay quiet, and she had no intention of disobeying him until he gave her permission to speak again.

Niall stayed silent too, watching Lars with unusual interest. He almost seemed curious to see how he would react to the provocation.

"Look at me when I’m talking to you, asshole!"

Ryan reached for the collar of Lars’s shirt but froze just before grabbing it.

Lars had only shifted his gaze toward him from the corner of his eye.

And yet, that simple gesture had triggered something deep inside Ryan.

It was as if his survival instinct had screamed at him to stop.

And Ryan listened.

A single glance had been enough to leave Miskatonic’s feared rugby captain trembling like a leaf in front of the entire school, without even understanding why.

Everyone had stopped eating and was watching the scene in complete silence.

"Get lost," Lars hissed without even bothering to look at him.

Ryan clenched his fists. Rage had turned his face a shade of red almost brighter than his hair.

"How dare you talk to me like that?! You filthy piece of shit, I’ll—"

Lars raised his icy eyes to him again.

"I said get lost. I won’t say it a third time."

Ryan gritted his teeth so hard they almost ground together. He had barely begun to draw back his fist when the thought of hitting Lars died in his mind the very instant it appeared.

"Come on, let’s go. This asshole isn’t worth our time," one of Ryan’s friends said, pushing him away with a hand on his shoulder.

Ryan put up just enough resistance to save face.

"Your days are numbered, Lars! I swear! You’re a dead man walking, fucker! A fucking dead man walking!" he shouted, already several feet away.

A faint smile appeared on Lars’s face.

A dead man walking, huh? You couldn’t have picked a better description.