Urban System in America-Chapter 157 - 156: Darker Side Of The World

Soon, the elevator reached the uppermost floor with a soft chime. Exhaling quietly, Rex straightened his posture and stepped out. The hallway was quiet, lined with polished floors and high ceilings, the kind of place that carried authority in its silence. At the end stood a wide door with a gleaming plaque that read Vice Chancellor in bold, formal lettering.

He stopped in front of it, took a slow breath to steady himself, and then knocked—firmly, but not too loud.

A pause followed, brief but weighted. Then, from within, a calm, composed voice replied with authority, "Come in."

"Here goes nothing." With a cheerful, sunny smile, he pushed open the door. freёnovelkiss.com

As he stepped into the office, the familiar scent of aged wood and freshly printed paper filled his nose. The first thing his gaze naturally went to was Uncle Johnson, seated behind a heavy oak desk. Golden sunlight spilled into the room through the tall windows behind him, casting soft rays across the polished floor. There he was—John Johnson, Vice Chancellor of Student Affairs—head buried in a stack of papers, flipping through files with his usual focused frown.

He didn’t look up, didn’t say a word, almost like he already knew who was walking in.

He didn’t mind, he already knew the personality of Uncle Johnson, he is what you’d call a tsundere, hard on outside and soft on inside. So, without waiting for acknowledgment, Rex walked in and unceremoniously sank into the soft, plush chair opposite the desk. Once seated, he let his eyes wander around the room. It hadn’t changed one bit.

The tall walls were still lined with rich mahogany shelves, filled from end to end with academic journals, dense leadership books, and a few modestly framed awards. No over-the-top décor, no flashy embellishments—just a meticulously organized workspace. It was spacious yet carried an intimate calm, the kind of place that demanded quiet respect. It exuded refinement, authority, and a sense of discipline that couldn’t be seen, but definitely felt.

After a few long minutes of silence—broken only by the scratching of pen on paper—Uncle Johnson finally set the last document aside with a soft thud. He rubbed his temples, exhaling slowly, the weariness in his expression betraying just how much had been weighing on him.

"Everything okay?" Rex asked, his tone casual but laced with concern.

His uncle gave a tired sigh. "Well... okay for now. The past few weeks have been nothing short of exhausting. The Clement scandal really shook the school’s foundations. It’s done quite a bit of damage to our reputation. It’s been a mess, both publicly and internally, as we are trying to salvage the situation."

"Oh?" Rex leaned forward slightly, brows raised in curiosity. "So, what was the final outcome?"

"What do you think? Johnson said, voice flat. "Clement will serve about ten to fifteen years in prison."

"Just ten?" Rex said with a half-scoff, eyebrows arching higher. "That’s all?"

"It’s the best the school could manage," Johnson said with a weary shake of his head. "The Whitmore family might’ve lost much of their former prestige, but they still hold influence in certain legal and political circles. Not enough to silence everything, but certainly enough to muddy the waters and soften the blow."

He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled together, eyes slightly narrowed.

"From what our sources suggest, they’ve latched onto someone powerful—hugged the thigh of a real heavyweight. We haven’t been able to confirm who it is yet, but judging by the way the case was handled and how quickly certain reports were buried, it’s obvious this person holds significant sway. The charges against Clement were no small matter. In any fair system, he’d be locked up for decades, if not worse. But this... this outcome?"

He let out a low sigh, voice heavy with resignation.

There was a pause. The weight of what he didn’t say hung thick in the air.

"Political shielding, legal red tape, backdoor negotiations—it’s all the same game. This society loves pretending it runs on law and order, but the moment power and money come into play and powerful hands start pulling strings,truth becomes flexible and justice becomes negotiable. You’d be surprised how many snakes crawl around behind the curtains of this ’honorable’ society."

Then, his gaze slowly shifted to Rex—calm but serious, like a man who had seen too much of the world and was offering a bitter lesson, not just commentary.

"That’s the real world, Rex," he said quietly, as if passing down an inconvenient truth. "You can fight it, play along, or rise above it—but never forget, snakes don’t just live in the grass. Sometimes they wear robes, sign laws, and sit on polished chairs."

"Anyway," Johnson muttered, his voice growing more solemn, "it’s about time you started learning about the darker side of this world."

He locked eyes with Rex, the light from the tall windows casting sharp shadows across his face. "Given how overprotective your parents are, I doubt they’ve ever really told you the truth—what happens behind the scenes, in the spaces between law and power." He let out a low, bitter chuckle, more tired than amused. "They probably thought keeping you innocent was the same as keeping you safe."

He stood up, hands casually folding behind his back as he walked toward the bookshelf. His back was straight, but there was a subtle heaviness in his movements, the weight of someone who’d seen too much.

"But I’ve always had a different philosophy," he said, pausing in front of a dusty framed certificate as if it no longer held any meaning. "You may never need to use this kind of information. Maybe you’ll walk a clean path. Maybe not. Either way—it’s better to know more than less."

He turned slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make Rex lean forward.

"If you’re living among monsters, you should at least understand what kind they are. Their habits. Their tells. Their weaknesses. Because one day, when they bare their fangs at you—and they will—you’ll need to know how to survive. And maybe strike back too."

He walked back to the desk, his steps echoing softly in the silence. Then he added with a grim smile, "It’s always better to be a warrior ploughing the fields during peacetime than a helpless farmer caught in a war."

He sat down again with a sigh, the weight of years settling back onto his shoulders. "Just... keep your eyes open, Rex. The higher you rise, the dirtier the air gets."

His eyes held Rex’s with a quiet intensity, not lecturing, but imparting.

"You’ll see it more and more as you climb higher. The real world doesn’t run on fairness or truth—it runs on leverage. Power. Influence. The ones who smile for the cameras and make speeches about justice? They’re often the same ones trading favors in the shadows."

Rex didn’t reply immediately.

He simply stared at his uncle, his fingers loosely clasped in front of him, brows furrowed just slightly—not in resistance, but in contemplation. The words weren’t new. He’d heard them before, in different ways, from different mouths, even lived them, in ways most people couldn’t imagine. After all, this wasn’t his first life.

(End of Chapter)