Rebirth Of The Tycoon: I Shall Dominate The World

The next morning, the classroom buzzed with low chatter. The teacher, Mrs. Hensley, stood at the front with her usual stern expression.

"Class, tomorrow we will have our first quiz of the semester," she announced, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "It will cover everything we've discussed so far, so I suggest you study hard."

The room erupted in groans and complaints, but I couldn't help the sly smile creeping onto my face.

I knew every question on that quiz. The Dominance System's Genius Strategist skill had kicked in during class, allowing me to absorb the content with perfect clarity. Later that day, I jotted down every question and sent them to Todd with a simple message:

William: Solve these and send them back ASAP.

Todd: On it.

Within an hour, Todd replied with all the answers, neatly formatted and easy to follow. I turned them into a "study guide" and sent it to my clients, attaching a note:

William: If you memorize this, you'll ace the quiz tomorrow. Trust me. This one's on the house. Next time, though? $100 per study guide.

The response was immediate. Texts flooded in, some skeptical, others grateful.

Client 1: For real? This better not be a joke.

Client 2: If this works, I'm in for the next one.

Client 3: Free? Count me in.

The next day, quiz time arrived. I watched as my clients strategically missed one question each, just as I had instructed them. The results were a resounding success. Mrs. Hensley, flipping through the papers, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

By the following week, word of my "study guide" had spread like wildfire. Students who weren't my clients before were now desperate to join. With Todd handling the logistics and me focusing on strategy, our business exploded.

In just a month, we were making $30,000 each. The money poured in nonstop, and the Dominance System's skills ensured our operation ran smoothly. Todd's loyalty bond had hit 100%, making him a flawless partner.

As the school year drew to a close, the perfect grades my clients were achieving started to attract more attention—not just from the students but from the faculty as well. Whispers spread about how so many students were suddenly acing quizzes and exams, and it wasn't long before the teachers began to grow suspicious.

The final exam for history was scheduled in the grand lecture hall, a cavernous space with rows of desks that seemed to stretch endlessly. Despite the sheer size of the room, it felt suffocating as we took our seats, each of us hyper-aware of the heightened scrutiny.

Mrs. Hensley, the history teacher, stood at the front with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning the room like a hawk hunting prey. Beside her stood Mr. Fenton, the math teacher, and Mrs. Caldwell, the chemistry teacher. It was highly unusual for multiple teachers to monitor a single exam, but it was clear they suspected something.

"Today's exam will test not only your knowledge but your integrity," Mrs. Hensley announced, her tone carrying an unspoken challenge. "Good luck to you all."

The exam papers were distributed, and the room fell into an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the scratch of pencils on paper. I glanced at Todd two rows ahead; he gave a subtle nod, signaling that he was ready.

Following our plan, each client began their exam with calculated precision, ensuring their answers appeared natural and not robotic. More importantly, everyone remembered to miss one or two random questions—an essential move to avoid raising red flags.

As I worked through the exam, I could feel Mrs. Hensley's gaze lingering on me. She moved up and down the aisles with an almost predatory focus, pausing at random desks. At one point, she stopped directly behind me, her breath audible in the oppressive silence.

I forced myself to remain calm, my pencil gliding smoothly across the paper. The Genius Strategist skill kicked in, allowing me to project an air of casual confidence. After an agonizing moment, she moved on, though I could still feel the weight of her suspicion.

Halfway through the exam, the unexpected happened.

"Everyone, hands up," Mrs. Hensley said sharply.

A collective murmur swept through the room as we obeyed, raising our hands above our heads. Mrs. Caldwell and Mr. Fenton began walking through the rows, checking under desks and inside pencil cases.

"This is a routine check," Mrs. Hensley said with a tight smile. "No need to worry—unless, of course, you have something to hide."

My heart pounded, but I kept my face neutral. They wouldn't find anything. Every aspect of our operation had been meticulously planned to avoid detection. As the teachers completed their sweep and found nothing, frustration flickered across Mrs. Hensley's face.

"You may continue," she said curtly, retreating to the front of the room.

The rest of the exam passed without further interruptions, though the tension remained palpable. When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the exam, I collected my paper and made my way to the door.

"William," Mrs. Hensley called, stopping me in my tracks.

I turned, schooling my expression into one of polite curiosity. "Yes, ma'am?"

She studied me for a moment, her sharp eyes boring into mine. "You've been doing exceptionally well this semester. Almost too well. Care to explain?"

I gave her my most sincere smile. "Just a lot of hard work and late nights, ma'am. You know how it is."

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't press further. "Enjoy your summer," she said finally, her tone laced with a hint of warning.

"Thank you," I replied, walking away with measured steps.

Mrs. Hensley paced the teachers' lounge, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. The tension in the room was palpable as the other teachers watched her with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"We're not just dealing with typical cheating here," she said, slamming a stack of papers on the table. "This is organized. Coordinated. Someone is orchestrating this."

Mrs. Caldwell frowned, flipping through one of the test papers. "The answers are perfect—almost too perfect. Every student missed exactly one question, and not the same one. It's like they planned it."

"Which they obviously did," Mrs. Hensley snapped. "This isn't just a coincidence. Whoever is behind this has thought of everything."

"We'll need to approach this carefully," Mr. Fenton said. "If we come down too hard, they'll just get smarter. We need to catch them in the act."

Mrs. Hensley nodded. "Here's what we're going to do. First, over the summer, we'll redesign our exams—completely custom questions, randomized for each student. We'll also implement stricter proctoring methods. No phones, no smartwatches, no talking. And the seating arrangements? Randomized for every test."

"That's a good start," Mrs. Caldwell said, her expression grim. "But we need more. What about unannounced quizzes? Catch them off guard when they're least prepared."

"Perfect," Mrs. Hensley said, jotting it down. "We'll also monitor their behavior closely. Pay attention to who's unusually confident, who seems to be the center of attention among the students."

"And what if they use outside help?" Mr. Fenton asked.

"Then we'll find out," Mrs. Hensley said, her eyes narrowing. "We'll track any unusual patterns in their performance. If we have to, we'll request access to their online activity."

The room fell silent at her last statement. Mrs. Caldwell broke the quiet with a nervous laugh. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious," Mrs. Hensley replied. "If they're using some sort of system, we'll uncover it. And when we do, we'll make an example of them."

The teachers exchanged uneasy glances, but none of them disagreed.

While the teachers plotted their countermeasures, Todd and I were already devising our own plans.

We met at my house one afternoon, the living room floor scattered with papers and laptops as we brainstormed. Hathor's voice resonated in my mind, guiding me as we worked.

"William," she said, "your success lies in your ability to adapt. Anticipate their moves and stay one step ahead."

I nodded, jotting down notes on a whiteboard. "We know they're suspicious. That much is clear. Over the summer, we need to upgrade our system. First, let's encrypt the study guides. Make them password-protected and accessible only through a secure app."

Todd leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. "What if we make the app look like a game? Something completely innocuous. The study guides could be hidden in plain sight."

"Brilliant," I said, scribbling it down. "We'll also implement a verification system for our clients. Only students we trust will get access. No exceptions."

"And the decoys?" Todd asked.

I smirked. "We'll create fake study guides and distribute them to a few select students—ones we suspect might tip off the teachers. When they fail, the teachers will think their suspicions were wrong."

Todd laughed. "That's ruthless. I love it."

Hathor's voice chimed in again. "Remember, William, the key is control. Let them think they have the upper hand while you hold all the cards."

I nodded, feeling a surge of confidence. "We'll also rotate our methods. For the next semester, we'll diversify. Flashcards, group study sessions, even one-on-one tutoring. They won't be able to pin anything on us."

Todd's grin widened. "And if they change the exams?"

"Then we adapt," I said. "We'll get our hands on the material one way or another. No matter what they throw at us, we'll be ready."

As the summer wore on, both sides prepared for what would undoubtedly be a high-stakes showdown. The teachers refined their strategies, determined to expose the mastermind behind the perfect grades. Meanwhile, Todd and I honed our operation, ensuring that every detail was airtight.

The tension simmered beneath the surface, a silent battle of wits that promised to erupt when the new school year began.

But one thing was certain: when the dust settled, only one side would emerge victorious.

Would you like me to expand further on the summer preparation or the start of the next school year?

Current balance in the system: $120,000