Chapter Twenty-Nine: Caesar

"I am looking forward to the performance of this freshman. If he can truly become the first 'S'-grade student I have encountered during my time at this school, I will extend an olive branch from the Student Union to him. As an 'S'-grade student, I believe he is qualified to compete with me for the position of Student Union President." When Caesar typed these two sentences into the reply box, he stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, then pressed backspace to delete the second sentence following the olive branch, ultimately replying with only the first part.

After doing so, he pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if he had been overly sensitive and stressed lately. It seemed he was not as unshakeable as he had imagined before enrolling; even the heir to the Gattuso family could feel nervous over current competition.

After placing his bet and posting the reply, Caesar's comment was followed by a flood of responses, all from his admirers and supporters praising his challenging spirit. After reading a few formulaic replies, he grew bored, closed the post, opened his background music player, and selected "Orfeo."

The aria echoed throughout the Norton Hall dormitory. After "Orfeo" was staged at the Florence Opera House, renowned Italian opera critics praised it for its fervor, intelligence, and rich humanity, calling it a bold piece of music. Caesar had once read a critique of the opera and felt that a work aiming to resonate with the soul was perfectly suited to him; naturally, he grew fond of the piece.

Caesar’s boldness was not mere self-proclamation; for many, his first impression was indeed one of boldness. The first thing he said upon enrollment last year was, "You may challenge me, but I am already prepared to mock you."

Although many students had dug up the Gattuso family’s illustrious and authoritative background, Cassel College was known for producing madmen and geniuses, so there were still those who refused to believe the hype and challenged the Emperor of the Gattuso family—but without exception, they all lost to Caesar.

Whether it was sports like swimming, horse racing, and free-style combat, or intellectual pursuits like board games, musical instruments, and academic knowledge, Caesar was proficient in them all. The Emperor’s Guide to Cultivation from the Gattuso family showed the students of Cassel College what a monster who was born a genius and worked hard looked like; the name of this monster was Caesar Gattuso.

Yet, after defeating his challengers, Caesar did not mock them as he had previously claimed. Instead, he would extend a hand to the losers, offering generous praise: "You are actually very talented, it is just a pity you ran into me. However, I believe you have the potential to be even better and perhaps surpass me. I look forward to that day, as it would give me a new goal to challenge."

His words left the disgruntled feeling genuinely convinced, moved by those ocean-blue eyes. According to unreliable sources, some of the softer-hearted male students, upon looking up at Caesar’s smile—which shone brighter than the sun behind him—claimed they had experienced a "love that transcends gender." They spontaneously founded the Caesar Fan Club, an organization somewhere between a celebrity fan group and a hobbyist circle. They could always be seen around Norton Hall, whether they were looking for an autograph or a handshake.

In just half a semester, Caesar was hailed as "the man like an emperor." He was always ready to accept challenges, and those who challenged him were ready as well. Currently, he was preparing to challenge the crown of the Student Union—though he had originally intended to join the Lionheart Society. He gave up after the President of the Lionheart Society met with him, stating that he could not accept their overly rigid system.

If the Student Union was a prosperous and flourishing ancient Rome, the Lionheart Society was ancient Sparta, where entertainment consisted only of playing chess and drinking tea. He was Italian, not French; he would rather bathe and drink in a Roman bathhouse with towering marble pillars than sip tea and play chess.

Some criticized Caesar for choosing the Student Union only because the Lionheart Society’s entry requirements were too harsh, but the first thing he said when joining the Student Union and declaring his intention to run for President silenced them.

His exact words were: "Actually, I originally wanted to join the Lionheart Society, but it didn't fit my aesthetic, so I am standing here now. Since I am with the Student Union, I have the duty to lead it to become the college’s number one organization. Because the organization where I, Caesar Gattuso, belong can only be number one. I don't like the Lionheart Society, so I am sorry, but they will have to yield the top spot."

At that moment, Caesar on the podium was truly as imposing as an emperor. These words effectively became his political platform for the election, and they were many times better than any meticulously drafted speech because he spoke off the cuff. If this had been a real presidential election, Caesar might not be sitting in Norton Hall now, but in the White House—though it’s hard to say, as who knows if the Americans could accept their president being an Italian.

Caesar Gattuso, who appeared so imposing on the surface, was seen as a perfect man in the eyes of Student Union members and onlookers. Confidence in others was like oil—eventually destined to run out—but in him, it was like the ocean: mysterious, profound, and inexhaustible, just as mesmerizing as his ocean-blue eyes.

But... in truth, only Caesar himself knew what he was thinking. Just like now, the words he had typed on the screen were painstakingly checked for typos or errors in meaning, and he even deleted some parts because he felt they weren't right.

He was indeed confident, but sometimes he truly felt unsure. His confidence lay in the fact that, regardless of the situation, he would accept the challenge first and look at the rules of the game later. This sometimes led him to speak without thinking—the freshman hadn't even said he wanted to join the Student Union yet, and here he was, declaring he would accept a challenge; didn't that make him look insecure and self-absorbed?

It seemed that running for Student Union President was indeed putting some pressure on him. Cassel College was not the University of Chicago; it was a place where elite hybrids gathered, and geniuses were rampant. The Student Union was no exception. The various affairs of the current campaign were already giving him a headache, and now with the emergence of a freshman rumored to be 'S'-grade, it was inevitable that he would become a bit sensitive.

Caesar rubbed his brow, gazing at the pinned red post on the Nightwatchers Forum. The replies had already topped three thousand, with constant spamming and discussions flooding the threads. The college’s gossip scene was already lively, and now that they had caught a target, they would surely discuss it to death. He figured that the freshman must be feeling immense pressure if he had seen these posts after accessing the school forum.

Clearly, for the time being, public opinion would not be focused on his campaign for Student Union President, which actually made him feel much lighter. Being the center of attention wasn't a bad thing, but pressure always followed, just as when he used the account "Dictator" to ask on the forum what was for lunch at the cafeteria, the replies would always veer into his views on "the confrontation between the Lionheart Society and the Student Union, and whether a third force might rise to create a tripartite balance of power."

"It's time to create an alt account," Caesar sighed, running his hands through his golden hair.

He logged out of the "Dictator" account and clicked to create a new one. He hesitated at the ID field, finally typing in "Sonic," clicked confirm, and the screen changed.

[Welcome to the Nightwatchers Forum. You will be redirected to the previous page in 3 seconds. If there is no response, please click to jump manually.]

In Room 303 of District 1, Lin Nian waited patiently for 3 seconds. The second-hand laptop he bought before leaving the country seemed reliable enough, without much lag. After 3 seconds, the forum page automatically returned to the home page, and the login status in the top right corner had refreshed.

His ID on the Nightwatchers Forum was "Year Beast"—a strange name, but there were many names on the forum even stranger than that.

Within seconds, Lin Nian received a backend notification: a new friend request. At the same time, Finnel on the upper bunk asked with surprise, "Year Beast? Does that ID have any special meaning?"

"No meaning," Lin Nian replied from the lower bunk.

The freshmen’s dorms were assigned by the computer system, NOMA. Surprisingly, Finnel was actually his roommate. He had been assigned to Room 303, which was exactly where Finnel lived. Perhaps even when Finnel led Lin Nian to the door of Room 303, he hadn't realized that NOMA had assigned them together.

It was quite a coincidence, meeting during the day and living together at night, but thinking about it, it didn't seem so unexpected. Half a semester had passed since the start of the school year, and all the freshman dorms had already been allocated. The most likely vacant spots were in the dorms of seniors who were away for internships.

Finnel, that old fox, lived alone in his room, so the probability of Lin Nian being assigned there had increased significantly. It was also possible that NOMA had intentionally assigned them together so that Finnel, a perpetual repeater, could look after the underage freshman.

"Senior Finnel, how did you add me? I haven't told you my ID yet," Lin Nian asked, lying on the bed with his laptop.

Finnel, lying on the upper bunk, cracked open a soda with a hiss and said, "I have forum administrator privileges. Now that the start of the term has passed, there are very few new registrations. I just checked the backend for the newly registered accounts. There have only been two in the last hour: one is yours and the other is called 'Sonic,' which is probably an alt account made by some upperclassman—who doesn't have two or three alt accounts these days?"

"I don't," Lin Nian said.

"Junior, you're just being difficult for the sake of it," Finnel said. "You should have an alt account. For example, if you want to secretly follow the account of some pretty upperclassman or junior without being discovered, that's where an alt account comes in handy."

"Oh," Lin Nian said.

The room fell silent. After a while, Finnel suddenly hung down from the upper bunk, poked his head out, and stared at Lin Nian on the bed. "Junior, you're not mad at me, are you?"

"You mean about the betting pool?" Lin Nian stopped fiddling with his laptop and looked at the hanging-ghost-like Finnel. "I'm not mad. Didn't you bet that I would win, Senior? Why would I be mad?"

Anyone who logged onto the Nightwatchers Forum could see the highlighted post; Lin Nian couldn't have missed that Finnel had started a betting pool on him, playing a gambling game with the entire school.

"I'm glad you're not mad. After all, I didn't expect NOMA to assign you to live with me. The most terrifying thing in college is a disharmonious roommate relationship," Finnel said, patting his chest in relief.

"But I am curious, why did you think I had 'S'-grade potential? I don't even have confidence in myself," Lin Nian asked.

"Trade secret... but I suppose I can tell you," Finnel said sneakily. "Junior, do you know the admission process for Cassel College?"