Vegas x Pete [7]

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Pete finished his explanation much quicker than he'd anticipated, having rushed through the whole thing. He'd been hoping for some reaction from Professor Chan, but he got nothing. While Pete spoke, he sat in his chair, elbows on the handles, hands clasped in front of his nose, looking through the top of his glasses at Pete like he could read Pete's mind. As soon as Pete was done, he squinted at Pete.

"So you're saying that he tripped and fell on his nose, his neck and his back?"

What?

"No, Sir. That's not what I said. I attacked him."

"Before or after he injured himself by other means?"

"That never happened. I'm the one who caused his injuries."

"I think we're not understanding each other. Edna?" he said as the huge woman reading in the painting behind him looked up. "Can you fetch me the school's head boy, please?"

The woman in the painting put down her book and walked out the edge of her painting and disappeared.

"Wait, no, Sir," Pete moved to the edge of his seat. This was not the plan. "He doesn't need to know."

"I believe he has a personal stake in this and would very much like him to weigh in on your version of events."

"I'm not lying."

"If you're telling the truth, then some penance is in order, isn't it?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then you agree that we require the head boy's assistance." Professor Chan stood up and walked around the table. "I'm not sure I heard you right. Maybe he could shed some more light on... what do you people call it? Young people's lingo?"

The headmaster must have gone crazy. Pete was a little out of it, but he was sure that he'd been clear and comprehensive about what happened. The fact that Professor Chan kept being obtuse was through no fault of Pete's own.

"Why are you doing this, Sir?" Pete asked.

"Thirty-eight years ago," he said. "I was sitting right where you are because I had just punched Korn Theerapanyakul in the face. Different set of chairs, of course."

"Korn Theer-" Pete said, eyes widening. "You went to school with Khun-Korn?"

"Went to school?" he laughed. "I was his shadow."

Pete could not believe it. It was very difficult to picture the soft-spoken, bespectacled, jovial Professor Chan as a bodyguard to anyone, much less someone such as Khun-Korn.

"Close your mouth, son. You'll soil your robes."

Pete hadn't realized he was gaping up at Professor Chan.

"You punched Khun-Korn."

"He was being silly and I'd had enough. Turns out, I was such a goody-two-shoes, otherwise, that my own headmaster refused to take the report." He set serious eyes on Pete. "I would be remiss if I didn't extend the same courtesy to someone I know was probably backed into a corner."

"What I did was more than a punch, Sir."

"Do you think his father would have cared?" he asked. "I was hired to protect not harm. If my headmaster didn't step in, Merlin knows where I would be right now."

"What did he do?"

"He called Korn into his office, had me sit down and receive a similar punch. Then we cried and hugged each other, and never mentioned it again." He sat back on the desk, looking up at the ceiling, wistfully. "However, I highly doubt the same method would work on your Mr. Theerapanyakul, I'm afraid."

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