The Boy's POV
The feast began. Golden trays slid down the tables, servants laying roasted meats, glazed fruits, and bread as soft as clouds. Every student had a servant standing behind them—polished, silent, ready.
But luxury could not hide cruelty.
At the far end of the table, a boy with number 10011—son of a high-ranking commander—smirked at me.
"So, 99979," he called across the hall, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Your father must be proud… carrying dust at the back of the line."
Laughter rippled.
Another, 87540, added, "Maybe he should polish boots here. I hear the Minister of Transportation is very good with roads. Perhaps his son can start with the floors."
The words stung, but I kept my head down. My servant, however, stiffened behind me. I felt his hand almost twitch to act, but I shook my head slightly. Not here. Not yet.
Then, the boldest of them all—1205, daughter of a senator—rose from her chair. She carried her goblet of wine, walked the length of the hall, and stopped before me.
"You sit among us," she said sweetly, but with venom dripping from every word. "But numbers do not lie. We are high. You are low. Do you know what that means?"
The hall went dead silent. Everyone waited for me to crumble.
I looked up slowly. My voice calm, but steady:
"It means… I have further to climb. And when I do, those above will have nowhere left to go but down."
The hall erupted. Some gasped. Some laughed nervously. Some glared.
The senator's daughter froze for a moment, then sneered and poured her goblet—wine spilling across my plate, staining the bread and meat.
"Eat that, 99979. It suits your number."
Her friends howled with laughter.
I did not move. My servant leaned close, whispering hotly:
"One word, Master. Just one word and I'll strike her down."
But I shook my head again.
I lifted my goblet—not to drink, but to raise it.
"To the Union," I said, my voice cutting through the laughter. "May it judge us not by numbers… but by loyalty."
The laughter stuttered. Some clapped. Others frowned.
But one thing was clear:
They would never forget 99979 tonight.
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