The teacher had no intention of politely asking Juno; she simply appointed her on the spot.
School had barely started, and the classroom was already reeking of gunpowder.
A male student stood up and challenged the teacher. "Excuse me, but what exactly is the criteria for selecting the class president?"
The question was asked politely, without any overt aggression.
It sounded like a standard inquiry.
The middle-aged woman fixed her dead, emotionless eyes on the student. "Did Northbridge only teach you how to talk back to your teachers?"
The boy frowned.
"Do I need to report to you about who I appoint? Your only job is to obey."
Were they all born with an innate need to rebel?
Another male student stood up, making no attempt to be polite. "I'd be fine with literally anyone else but her. Do you not watch the news, Professor? The Corrington family threw bags of money to buy her way in here. Look at her abysmal credits from last semester. She is clearly completely unfit for the role. So I refuse to accept her as our class president."
The teacher hadn't planned on wasting time on this, but seeing so many students rising up in defiance, she planted her hands on the podium. Her gaze swept over the sea of youthful, energetic faces one by one.
"What does it matter to me if you accept it or not? Deal with it or don't."
That was Juno's problem to solve.
The class: ?
Ignoring their outrage, the teacher moved straight to the next item on the agenda. The moment she finished her announcements, she left the room without a moment's hesitation.
She left them to riot amongst themselves.
They came to school and instead of studying, they wanted to play political mutiny.
Students these days were getting worse by the minute.
In all her years running the Diploma Program, she had seen countless troublemakers. But Juno, and that girl next to her—Lucia something—were among the very few who had genuinely caught her eye.
They had rebellion bred into their bones. They were not the type to blindly stick to the rules.
The Diploma Program had been boring for far too long. It was rare to get fresh blood like this. Let them stir up a storm.


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