Graduation Season

So, if you can settle it with action, there's no need for many words.

Dealing with a mere Carson, Feeney wouldn't bother using his newly acquired "Possessed by Evil Spirit," not even the "Golden Great Deduction Technique." He relied on the advantage of striking first, plus years of honed decisive reflexes.

A few moves later, Carson was on the ground, his friend still standing there dumbfounded, not having processed what happened.

This time, Carson's exceptional talent for provocation had turned the school's rumors into reality—though who knew what twisted version would spread now.

Feeney glanced at the remaining few, thought it over, and chose not to strike again. Instead, he advised, "I've trained in combat skills. Think carefully before you act, or face the consequences. Even if I go down, I guarantee one of you will end up worse off than me."

If he'd said this before taking down Carson, it would've been dismissed as a joke. But now, with Carson groaning on the floor, a pathetic mess, the words carried real weight.

The group exchanged looks, hesitating. Young men might be hot-blooded, but they weren't fools. They were close with Carson, but Feeney's display of skill made them think twice.

Feeney could see they wanted to back off but were too embarrassed, or unsure who should make the first move. So he spoke up: "I think you should take him to the infirmary first."

That gave them an excuse to retreat. They exchanged a knowing glance, then helped the unconscious Carson to the infirmary.

Watching them leave, Feeney silently curled his lip. He hailed a car and headed to Skye's small shop. Things were about to get busier, and chances to make fried chicken rolls there would dwindle.

Slipping in through the back door, Feeney found Skye exactly where he expected—lounging on the comfy sofa, fingers flying across her laptop keyboard, completely unaware of his arrival.

He crept up behind her and saw a torrent of code flashing across the screen. She was attacking some website, a routine pastime for a self-proclaimed hacker like Skye.

Soon, the attack ended. Skye let out a long breath and stretched comfortably, her lithe form tracing a graceful curve.

Feeney couldn't help but cough lightly, startling Skye so much she nearly threw her laptop.

"When did you get here?"

Skye looked like an angry cat with its fur puffed up, glaring at Feeney. Instead of being intimidating, she seemed especially cute.

"A while ago. You were so focused I didn't want to disturb you. Get up and tidy up—time to open for business." Feeney ignored the lethal intent in her stare and urged her to get ready.

"Hmph, I'm your older sister. Don't always act like you're the one in charge."

Skye grumbled as she got up to clean. Though Feeney was only fifteen, no one who spent time with him treated him like a child.

Watching Skye bustle about, Feeney thought for a moment and said, "Skye, after graduation, I might have some things to take care of. I won't be coming around as much."

"Decided which university yet?"

Skye didn't overthink it, asking casually.

"Probably Columbia University."

"Hmm? Isn't that still in New York?" Skye turned back, puzzled. When she saw the conflicted look on Feeney's face, she sensed something was off. "What's wrong?"

"It's still in New York, but I probably won't be coming here to sell fried chicken rolls often anymore."

Feeney laid it out clearly. He knew Skye's real passion was computers, not selling fried chicken. This shop was just their little den, which made it precious.

In the past, Skye would've grilled him for details. But ever since learning about Feeney's peculiarities, she knew her brother was more mysterious than she'd imagined.

"Do we need to sell the place?" Skye asked reluctantly. When the shop first opened, she ran it alone, nearly going bankrupt from poor sales. That's when Feeney stepped in to help, turning things profitable.

"Of course not. Not coming often doesn't mean never. Even if we stop selling fried chicken rolls, we could remodel it into a coffee shop or something."

After two years of business here, Feeney had grown attached. Besides, he had no need for money, so selling was out of the question.

Hearing that, Skye brightened up. After a moment's hesitation, she said, "Feeney, I don't know what you're planning, but please be careful. If there's anything I can help with, you have to tell me."

"I know!"

Feeney understood Skye was worried. He walked over, gave her a gentle hug, and patted her shoulder. "Actually, I'm planning to learn magic. If I can, I'll ask if you can learn too."

"?"

If not for the bizarre events of the past couple of days, Skye would've thought Feeney was messing with her. But even after witnessing "superpowers" firsthand, hearing "learn magic" out of nowhere was still hard to swallow.

"Alright, go open the door."

As he spoke, Feeney used a skill to summon a batch of "Sumire's Fried Chicken Rolls" and set them out. Since Skye already knew, there was no need to hide it.

By the time Skye opened the door, the shop was stocked with a mountain of fried chicken rolls, steaming hot as if fresh from the fryer.

After a busy day, adding a bit of experience to the empty Experience Bar, Feeney and Skye headed home. In the afternoon, he'd told the customers he'd be closing for a while due to college plans.

Though reluctant, the Business Elites and Big Shots graciously understood. Of course, the price was lifting the purchase limit temporarily. Feeney had to secretly use his skills a few more times just to serve everyone.

That evening, Feeney thought about Carson, whom he'd sent to the hospital that afternoon. He wondered what tomorrow would bring. He'd held back—Carson looked pathetic but wasn't seriously hurt, certainly not enough to miss school.

To Feeney's surprise, Carson didn't come looking for trouble the next day. After some digging, he learned Carson had taken leave.

A moment's thought made it clear. The injuries weren't severe, but they were on his face—the marks were obvious. A High School Student wouldn't want others to know he'd been beaten, so staying home was normal.

With no troublemakers around, Feeney was happy. But his name had spread: Good Student, handsome, tough, decent family background. Though he seemed a bit young, anyone who saw him in person didn't care about that.

So, in this Graduation Season, his Romantic Luck suddenly exploded, leaving Feeney feeling very out of place.