Classroom Of The Elite: The Silent Syndicate

The office, bathed in the fading hues of twilight, felt like a mausoleum. The air was thick, oppressive, and laced with the faint metallic tang of blood from earlier... incidents. My office—no, his office now—was no longer a sanctuary of power but a stage for my utter humiliation.

Sitting in my chair, the chair I had occupied as Prime Minister of this nation, was Takashiro Ren, scion of the Aikiba clan and son of Aikiba Reiji, the most powerful Yakuza in Japan. His tousled black hair caught the amber light, framing a face that was almost too perfect to belong to a mortal. Crimson eyes, swirling with a hypnotic pattern that seemed alive, pinned me where I stood. Those eyes weren't just unnerving; they were a promise of annihilation...my annihilation. 

"Naoyo," Ren said, his voice calm and deceptively soft, "you owe the family 250 million dollars. Let's not waste time with platitudes. How exactly do you plan to repay us?"

"I... I have some savings," I stammered, my tongue dry as sandpaper.

Ren leaned back, his posture unnervingly casual, and let out a sharp, cold laugh that sent shivers down my spine. "Savings? Naoyo, as of tomorrow, you're not just out of power—you're irrelevant. No title, no influence, no allies. You're less than a ghost." He gestured to the room with a lazy wave. "This office has already forgotten you. The people hates you."

Standing beside him was Kagemura Yumi, her arms crossed as she regarded me with icy disdain. Her snow-white hair shimmered in the dim light, and her piercing blue eyes were colder than steel. "Father's orders were explicit," she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "The full amount. By next Saturday."

Her words hit me like a death knell. I was no longer Prime Minister, no longer even a member of the political game. The Yakuza had elevated me to power, used me, and now discarded me. In their eyes, people were tools and tools had usefulness but I had nothing. I was a finished man with a political career close to death after my humiliating lost. 

"Please!" I dropped to my knees, desperation clawing at my throat. My suit, perfectly tailored just yesterday for a victorious prime minister, now felt suffocating. "I can get you 100 million by next week! Just—just give me more time!"

Ren tilted his head slightly, studying me with an unsettling calm. "And the remaining 150 million?" he asked, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with menace.

"I'll... I'll use it for charity work," I blurted, grasping at any straw I could find. "To rebuild my public image. If I regain the trust of the people, I could run for office again! I'll be an asset to the family—more valuable than ever!"

Ren's lips curled into a faint smile—not one of amusement, but of a predator watching its prey squirm. "Charity work," he mused, as if savoring the absurdity. "You've fallen far, Naoyo."

"I'll prove my worth," I pleaded. "Just give me a chance!"

Ren rose from the chair, his movements deliberate and smooth. Even standing, he seemed perfectly at ease, as though the chaos surrounding him was merely a stage for his performance. "Fine. 175 million by next Saturday."

"Ren!" Yumi snapped, her voice sharp and authoritative. "Father demanded the full amount. You can't—"

"There is no 'can't,'" Ren interrupted, his tone as steady as his gaze. "Father respects results. If Naoyo can scrape together 175 million, that will be enough to buy him four more years to prove his worth to our family."

Yumi's eyes narrowed, but she didn't argue further. Instead, she turned her cold gaze on me. "Don't mistake this for mercy, Naoyo. If you fail, you know what happens."

I bowed so low my forehead nearly touched the bloodstained carpet. "Thank you, young Lord. I swear I won't fail you."

Ren dismissed my gratitude with a wave of his hand, turning toward Yumi. Then, as if the conversation hadn't just been about my survival, he asked,

"Now, I have a question."

"Anything, young lord," I said quickly, eager to stay in his good graces.

"Naoyo, are high schools still accepting students?"

The question caught me completely off guard. "I'm sorry, what?"

"High schools," Ren repeated, his tone unchanging. "Are they still taking new students?"

"No," I said hesitantly, bewildered. "Not this late in the academic year."

"Shame," Ren said with a shrug. "Guess it's not happening."

Yumi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Naoyo, Ms. Takashiro wants Ren to attend a high school. Do you know of any options?"

I blinked at her, dumbfounded. The Crimson Demon, heir to the Akakiba clan, attending a high school? It sounded like the setup for a bad joke. "The lady wants this?" I asked cautiously.

"Yes," Yumi replied curtly. "Ren needs more than his current skills. The family believes high school will help him refine his leadership and diplomatic abilities."

The absurdity of the situation almost made me laugh. Ren, who could command men twice his age with a single glance and had more blood on his hands than most men thrice his age., didn't need high school to learn leadership. But who was I to argue? "There is one place," I said slowly. "The Advanced Nurturing High School. It's an elite institution designed to groom future leaders and also it recently had an entrance exam for new students. The first day of school will be in a week time on the 1st of April if you are interested."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Advanced Nurturing High School?"

"It's prestigious," I explained. "But there's one condition: no outside contact for three years. It's their policy."

Ren's crimson eyes sparkled with faint amusement. "Three years in isolation? That's practically a vacation."

"Ren," Yumi said firmly, "this isn't optional. The family has decided."

Ren sighed, clearly irritated. "I'm already running half the clan's operations and managing our international syndicates. What could a classroom possibly teach me that I don't already know? I know everything universities can teach to its students."

Yumi leaned in and whispered something in his ear. But then something caught my eye—Ren's left hand, wrapped tightly in bandages. I wondered what had happened, but I quickly realized there was no point in asking. After all, this was the 15 soon to be 16 year old young man who could crush any opponent, physically and strategically, without breaking a sweat.

Whatever she said made Ren's expression shift—his usual calm replaced briefly by a flash of irritation, then resignation. "Fine," he muttered. "Naoyo, get me a seat at this school."

"Yes, young Lord. Your acceptance letter will arrive tonight."

Ren strode toward the door but stopped just before leaving. "Naoyo," he said without turning around, "clean this office. If there are any bodies left, dispose of them. It would be a shame for your successor to inherit such a mess."

My fists clenched as rage and humiliation simmered beneath my skin. Those bodies were his handiwork, not mine, but I bowed my head and nodded. "Of course, young Lord."

"And one last thing," he added, glancing back at the chair he had occupied. "Where did you get this chair? It's surprisingly comfortable."

"It was custom-made for the Prime Minister," I replied, barely managing to keep my voice steady.

Ren smirked. "Interesting. Yumi, remind me to order one."

Yumi rolled her eyes. "Let's go, Ren."

As the door slammed shut behind them, I sank into the chair. My legs throbbed from kneeling, and my pride lay in tatters. The bloodstains on the carpet were the least of my concerns. 

I stayed on my knees for a moment longer, the ache in my bones reminding me of my humiliating fall from power. My last day as Prime Minister, and I had to worry about putting this demon in a high school.

The irony stung, but I had no choice. I had to get to work, and fast. Time was running out.