Nobility of the 21st century

Chapter VI: Transferred Student

Erika was excited about the party, but now she was nervous.

—Everything is perfectly fine —she responded, widening her smile—. Although it depends on how you guys see it. —She pointed behind both boys, causing them to turn with curiosity until they could see Linda Wilson, talking to Edgar O’Neal. Lucien huffed and let out a chuckle.

—That scene wouldn’t be anything important if the director’s daughter weren’t there —the Frenchman muttered, and Benjie supported him with a silent nod—. Anyway, he's already here, and, as the professor said, he's an official student, so there's not much we can do.

—But we can get answers. I don't know about you guys, but it bothers me immensely —spoke Benjie and stood up—. I'll be right back. —His friends could only bid him farewell and continued with their lunch. Lucien turned once more, only to realize that Linda and Edgar were no longer in the cafeteria.

As Benjamin walked through the corridors, he decided to call his father first. He didn’t want to bombard the principal with questions; after all, the man might not know anything.

He took out his cell phone and searched for his father in the contacts list. Upon finding it, he pressed his name and called him without further ado. The ringing sound echoed in the air, momentarily breaking the silence. It was a sharp and persistent tone, like an insistent bell seeking to capture the attention of its recipient. It vibrated in the air, filling the space with its audible presence. Finally, someone answered: —Son?

—Hello, Dad —murmured the brown-haired boy—. There's something I want to ask you.

—Sure, what is it? —his father responded through the device.

—Listen, today we met the transfer student, and there's a problem —he began speaking as he moved to a quieter corner—. It's that… he introduced himself as Vasiliev, son of you know who…

—That can't be. His mother's report specifies that the father didn’t give him his surname, so there was no problem enrolling him. Besides, it would be almost illogical for Ethan Vasiliev to let his son study at an American school —Gerald argued. Benjamin snorted in annoyance.

—But he said he was a Vasiliev in front of the whole class! —the boy complained as he tried to keep his voice low—. It's strange that he said it if his father never gave him the surname. —The words were heard, and in response, they elicited a soft sigh.

—Well, I believe you. I'll go first thing tomorrow to sort this out —his father said. There was a lot of hustle and bustle on the other end; the boy thought he might be in a meeting—. Just relax, and we'll sort this out, alright? We'll talk at home; I have to get back to work —he said goodbye and quickly hung up. Benjamin nodded, even though he knew his father couldn’t see him.

He checked the time and touched his forehead when he realized he didn’t have time to talk to the principal anymore. He could do it tomorrow or another day, so he hurried back to the cafeteria, where his friends were waiting for him.

Erika was the first to notice him and smiled at him with contained joy; after all, she couldn't spend too much time away from Benjie because she easily became sad. On the other hand, the count noticed his presence later and waved at him, still enjoying the portion of fries he had ordered.

—And? Tell us what you managed to find out —Lucien ordered as soon as he saw the brown-haired boy sit down. Erika nudged him, causing the count to stain his uniform with ketchup—. Ah.

Benjamin started laughing at the Frenchman's reaction, and when he could stop, he put on a more serious expression.

—I didn’t speak with the principal, but I did talk to my dad. He told me that his mother enrolled him without the Vasiliev surname. It's possible that Edgar, I don't know, he has no idea what's really going on —Benjamin informed. His friends' faces suddenly tensed, and even Lucien stopped eating, letting out a slight whistle.

—This is getting interesting —spoke the count, and his friends interrogated him with their gazes—. Let's suppose for a moment that, as they say, Edgar doesn’t know anything. In that hypothetical case, we can say that his mother has reasons for the boy not to show himself as a Vasiliev, but he did it anyway… So we can deduce that his father is either already on American soil, or he's arriving anytime soon —he argued and continued eating.

—Are those conclusions not hasty? —Erika remarked with a half-smile on her dark face—. I'm not saying it's wrong, or well, yes, but that's not the case. What I mean is, let's just let the matter die here because we gain nothing by getting into matters that aren’t ours, but we lose a lot if, with what we're saying, we provoke something —she scolded and stood up to return to the classroom. Benjie nodded and followed her. However, the count stayed a few more seconds, observing the atmosphere of the cafeteria, feeling a slight shiver run down his spine. Without further ado, he ran to join his friends.

The three sank into a tense silence, a pause laden with uncertainty that hung in the air like a thick fog. Despite the absence of words, their faces reflected a mixture of emotions ranging from worry to resignation. The gravity of the situation seemed to weigh on them like a slab, making each heartbeat resonate more strongly in the silence that surrounded them.

Lucien's gaze, penetrating and sharp as ever, scrutinized his two companions intensely. His eyes seemed to search for any sign of doubt or denial, as if he could read their thoughts and anticipate their reactions before they expressed them in words. Despite his youth, Lucien had an innate ability to unravel the complexities of the situation and glimpse possible futures with a clarity that was almost disturbing. After all, he was a Le Brun.

In the midst of the silence, the minds of the three intertwined in a river of shared thoughts and concerns. They knew that if what Lucien had predicted came to pass, they would face monumental challenges and painful decisions that would test their loyalty and determination. The knowledge that Lucien rarely erred in his deductions only increased the gravity of the situation, adding an additional level of pressure to the already tense atmosphere.