Two days had passed since Solus began his tedious lessons on basic alphabets with that overly attentive female teacher. Throughout every study session, he maintained a carefully crafted softness in his expression, with an innocent smile fixed on his small face.
The reason was anything but enjoyment. He had a plan, and to carry it out, he had to act like an excited, happy child. Their study sessions were meant to be brief, just long enough to introduce letters at a slow, child-friendly pace. But Solus stretched them out longer, pretending to be fascinated, and ensuring that the teacher stayed with him even after the other children had left the room.
The female teacher, unaware of his true intentions, smiled at his obvious enthusiasm. His interest made her genuinely happy, and her smiles widened each time he mimicked a sound or traced a letter with extreme care.
On the third day, Solus sat unusually close to her, his small frame leaning in as if absorbed in the lesson. She pointed to the letters on the board and pronounced each one with clarity, and he repeated them slowly and uncertainly, like a child just learning.
"Amazing," she exclaimed, her voice full of pride. "You're learning so fast. At this rate, you'll be reading in just a month!"
Solus looked up at her with wide, artificial admiration before raising a finger and pointing to the small study group across the room. "I want to go there," he said softly, as if making an innocent request.
"Of course," the teacher said, too happy to question it.
Solus rose to his feet and took small steps toward the group, intending to appear awkward and innocent. The caretaker in charge of the session looked up at him, then back at the other children, saying nothing as he approached. A few of the kids turned their heads but quickly looked away because they were more interested in the caretaker's lesson than the newcomer.
They were older than him, between five and seven years old, and had progressed beyond the stage of basic reading to arithmetic. Solus tapped one on the shoulder and motioned for him to move aside before settling in among them like he belonged there.
"Now tell me, what is four times nine?"
The children frowned, with some counting on their fingers and others scratching their heads in obvious confusion. Solus remained silent as they struggled with a calculation so simple that it was almost painful. Inside, he laughed—not cruelly, but at the absurdity of their incompetence. There was no shame in it. He wasn't mocking them out of narcissism. He just knew that he was better.
Then he raised his hand. The caretaker looked at him and laughed, perplexed. "Haha, do you know the answer?"
She asked him, knowing he would get it wrong because he could not read, let alone do math.
Solus shook his head, saying, "No, I want to say something."
"Of course, what would you like to say?"
Solus stood up and walked toward him, then leaned closer to her ear, whispering, "My teacher did something wrong yesterday."
The caretaker raised her brows briefly before smiling again and asking, "What do you mean? What did she do?"
Solus turned away from her without saying anything else, his small shoes tapping softly as he returned to his waiting teacher. The caretaker he had left behind was frozen for a moment as her mind tried to make sense of the strange sentence he had breathed into her ear.
"Muahahahaha, the seed has been planted," Solus thought gleefully to himself, keeping his face carefully blank as the first step of his plan fell perfectly into place.
When he reached his teacher again, she asked, "What did you whisper to her?"
Solus paused dramatically before leaning in closer, his small hands clutching her sleeve and motioning for her to bend lower. When her ear was within reach, he whispered in his clearest childish voice, "I know what you did yesterday."
Her face went blank immediately. A nervous laugh bubbled up from her throat as she straightened. But deep inside, her mind was racing as she remembered every single insignificant detail of the day before - what she ate, who she spoke with, and every little action. No matter how many times she replayed everything in her head, the question remained the same: she had done nothing wrong.
Of course, she hadn't; that was the beauty of his scheme. It was simply human nature that when someone whispered something accusatory in your ear, especially a child who represented pure innocence, your mind would immediately seek out guilt where none existed.
The teacher attempted to resume the lesson by forcing her lips into the same warm smile she always had. But something was wrong; the smile no longer reached her eyes, and the caretakers standing around the room exchanged glances as they noticed the change in her expression.
"AAaaaggghhh!"
A high-pitched scream suddenly cut through the room, so loud it made everyone jump. All of the caretakers turned their heads at once, standing up from the floor as they looked toward the small study group. The kids were scattering in panic, running in every direction while one young girl cried and jumped up and down. Her small hands desperately clawed at her back like something was crawling under her clothes.
The caretaker hurried over and did her best to calm the hysterical girl down by speaking in gentle, comforting tones. When the child had stopped thrashing enough, the caretaker carefully peered inside the back of her clothes. She then slowly reached inside and carefully removed a tiny cockroach, its legs still wriggling in midair.
This made no sense. Every day, the entire facility was thoroughly cleaned and sanitized, including every corner and crevice. There was no way a cockroach could have gotten in unnoticed, let alone onto a child's back.
As she stood there puzzled by this impossibility, another cry drew her attention. Three caretakers had gathered around Solus, who appeared to be clinging to one of them in fear. They all bent down in unison, their voices filled with concern as they asked, "What's wrong, sweetie? Are you scared?"
"Don't worry," another caretaker soothed, rubbing comforting circles on his back. "That bug won't do anything to you." Their protective huddle around him tightened, completely focused on comforting their precious charge even though the true threat stood right in front of them.
Solus slowly raised his head, his small face looking up with fake tears in his eyes. He pointed one tiny finger directly at his teacher, making sure everyone could see.
"She hurt me," he said in a shaky voice.
"What?"
The three caregivers closest to him froze and exchanged puzzled looks. But when Solus lifted his shirt just enough to reveal them, their expressions changed dramatically. There was a small but noticeable wound on his side; his skin had turned red and purple in a perfect circle as if he had been pinched hard. The caretakers immediately started comforting him, patting his hair gently and pulling him into a protective hug before slowly, one by one, turning their heads to glare at the teacher.
Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room became heavy and tense. All of the caregivers paused their activities to give the teacher a stern, suspicious look.
"He's lying! I didn't touch him!" The teacher yelled, her voice too loud for the quiet room.
The caretaker, still holding the cockroach, took a step forward. "Then what did you do yesterday?" she asked, repeating the exact same words.
Hearing that question again made the teacher turn pale. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Even though she knew she was innocent, she wondered if she had done something wrong without realizing it.
More caregivers entered the room and completely surrounded the teacher. They kept asking her questions as she tried to explain. But no matter how many times she claimed her innocence, no one believed her. They grabbed her arms firmly and began pulling her towards the door.
As they dragged her away, she managed to take one last look at Solus, and what she saw made her blood run cold. The kid was looking right at her with the clearest, most evil expression along with a mischievous smile.
"Look at him! "He is laughing at me," the teacher screamed, pointing desperately.
Nobody even looked back. They were too busy forcing her out of the room. When the two caretakers near Solus turned to look at him, his expression returned to that of a terrified little boy.
"Don't worry, sweetie. She will never come back," one caretaker said softly, rubbing his back.
"Wait here; I will get the first aid box," another said before hurrying away.
What had been a normal, peaceful morning had been completely turned upside down in just a few minutes, and everything had gone exactly as Solus had planned from the beginning.