Max questioned Ramon about Randy Stern’s mysterious wealth. Ramon revealed that both Dennis and Randy possess an Invitation, hinting that Max might receive one himself soon. Max realized his investigation into Randy could lead him to the White Tigers, potentially uncovering the connection between the two factions.
"Cheers!"
The shouts of nearly thirty people echoed through the common room, a lively noise that vibrated the dormitory windows. Mugs, filled to the brim, clinked together in a chaotic ballet before the group collectively downed their drinks. Contented grins and satisfied sighs followed as everyone resumed their places.
The individuals in the room appeared quite young, and indeed they were. Each person present was a freshman at the university, celebrating their very first day with this spontaneous party. Across the entire city, similar gatherings were taking place as countless students marked the start of their university lives.
Earlier in the day, the campus had been bustling with new students exploring the vast grounds, eventually connecting with their classmates and department mates. For the outgoing students in the business program, it didn't take long to suggest a get-together. Since most of them were assigned to the same dormitory block, an evening of drinks seemed the obvious way to break the ice. They needed to familiarize themselves with each other, after all, there was a high likelihood they would be spending the next four years in close proximity.
"Whoa!" Steve, a young man with thick-rimmed glasses and a genial expression, exclaimed as he observed the person next to him. "You truly have a capacity for drinking. You finished that entire thing in one go. If it were me, I would have been sick everywhere by now."
"I... I feel unwell," Max responded, his voice strained as he covered his mouth.
In his prior existence, his original body could have handled a light round of drinks like this with absolute ease. Not only was the former Max an experienced drinker, but he had also cultivated a significant tolerance out of professional necessity. Within the corporate and underworld circles he inhabited, numerous business transactions were sealed in KTV lounges, bars, and dimly lit clubs, all demanding extensive social drinking. It was a fundamental aspect of the culture. Many influential figures believed true trust was only established after witnessing a business associate's "true self," which they were convinced only emerged after alcohol began to flow. Comments made in a drunken state could jeopardize a multi-million dollar deal, making those who could hold their liquor the survivors.
However, he was now acutely aware that this younger body, Max, had barely consumed any alcohol in its short life. The original Max had been too preoccupied with the daily struggles of existence and survival to ever indulge in a drink, despite being technically over eighteen and having completed high school. His liver was currently protesting vehemently against the sudden influx of cheap spirits being consumed in the dorm.
"Alright, pay attention!" a voice boomed as a man leaped onto a table in the center of the room. He was clad in a vibrant red jumper and sported a broad, confident smile. His name was Jono, and he had already positioned himself as the unofficial leader of the floor; he was the one who had orchestrated the gathering and was now serving as the host.
It was an interesting social dynamic to witness. People generally appreciated it when someone else took the initiative to lead, allowing them to disengage their minds, avoid decision-making, and simply follow the current.
"Let's have an amazing night!" Jono shouted, raising his cup. "To the business department!"
"To the business department!" the others echoed in a rough, inebriated chorus.
Once Max had managed to extricate himself from the shared restroom, he felt considerably better. Having emptied his stomach, he navigated the packed room back to where Steve was seated.
"Hey, I'm going to step out for some fresh air. I'll be back shortly," Max said, gesturing with his hand.
Stepping out of the common room, the distant throb of music and the exclamations of laughter continued behind him. Once outside, Max found himself in a wide courtyard enclosed by tall dormitory buildings. This was June Stone University, a distinguished institution recognized as one of the top ten universities in the nation. The architectural design was striking, featuring modern dormitory structures that accommodated various departments.
The central area, already dubbed "the arena" by the students, offered a vast open space suitable for games or outdoor table tennis. A well-maintained seating area was also integrated within a floral garden. Max descended the stone steps leading into the oval, circular space where students typically relaxed between classes.
"Hey. You actually made it here."
Max turned his head. A short-haired, powerfully built man, resembling an athlete, was approaching him. It was a face Max recognized distinctly, though seeing him in this academic environment felt strangely unreal.
"I can hardly believe you're actually here, Bo— I mean, Max," Rick exclaimed, catching himself before using Max's notorious underworld moniker.
Rick had been a significant figure within the Clapton Alliance, yet after its integration into the Billion Bloodline conglomerate, he found himself engaged across various business sectors. However, a less-known facet of Rick's ambition this year was his university application. Upon discovering this, Max orchestrated their clandestine meeting under the cloak of night.
"I honestly never pictured you having any interest in university," Rick confessed, his gaze sweeping over Max. "You didn't strike me as the academic type. But hey, if you run into any trouble here, or if anyone dares to pick on you, just give me the word. I'll sort them out for you." Rick punctuated his words by thumping his fist into his open palm, the sharp report cutting through the tranquil garden air.
Max offered a subtle shake of his head. Operating undercover was paramount, and engaging in any public altercations was strictly off-limits. He certainly had no desire for Rick to face expulsion for initiating a campus brawl on his behalf.
"A fair number of students here are, in effect, members of the Billion Bloodline group, so you're quite secure," Rick added, attempting to offer reassurance. "Don't sweat it too much."
"Secure here?" Max let out a dry chuckle, the sound utterly lacking in mirth.
If genuine safety were a reality, he would never have set foot in June Stone University. His enrollment wasn't for the academic credentials or the campus social scene. The singular, driving purpose behind selecting this particular institution was the presence of one specific individual within the sophomore class: Donto Stern, the heir to Randy Stern's legacy.
