Grudges

[First Person POV]

The whole "The Road Not Taken" period was cooling down. The book had caused a lot of chaos in my quiet life. Overnight, I became the talk of the town, which actually felt quite good. But over the last six months, I became kind of numb to all the attention I was getting.

My mom was the one who constantly teased me about the cute daughters of her friends who wanted to marry me.

In the last few months I had attended different literary conventions, and I found out that people there didn't really respect me due to my status as a "commoner." I heard that word many times.

"It must be the grace of God on your miserable life," said Lord Alfred Douglas, a man who knew Oscar Wilde and was a poet himself. I met him at a meeting hosted by Lady Potter.

"Have you ever seen food like this before?" asked Leo Amery, a politician. I suspected this hostility was due to the rise of the Labour Party, but I still made a mental note of it.

"Maybe you're an illegitimate child of a noble?" Now, this one really pissed me off. I almost punched the man—a professor named Bertrand Russell. It took all my willpower to control myself.

After that, I stopped going to any gatherings. I realized I was still not good enough for them to respect me. To them, I was just a kid who writes good poems. Maybe someone who loves poems would respect me because of my writing, but not everyone. This realization changed my thinking a lot.

I was too immature to think about taking everything slowly, but I was too angry to do that now. So I changed my plans, just a little. Maybe I'm too impatient, but you have to understand me—I can't let anyone look down on my family, not after everything I've been through.

So after that evening, I made a list of the people who made hateful remarks towards me and my parents. This list had the names of 23 people, including some lords, ladies, and professors. And I can't wait to serve them some sweet revenge. This time, it will be different. I will become someone that even the king would think twice about before speaking to.

A bloodthirsty smile appeared on my face.

"What's that expression, Max? Aren't you getting late for school?" said my mother with a smile, but I knew better—that wasn't a smile.

"Yes, I am," I said as I stood up and straightened my uniform.

As I was about to leave, she stopped me by taking my hand. I looked over my shoulder curiously, and before I knew it, she hugged me.

"My sweet baby," she said, kissing my cheek quickly and then said "Now you're ready. Hurry up, or Mr. Hector will be mad at you again."

I smiled at her and ran at an average pace for a kid. I know I could break the world record and become the fastest man alive, but I don't want to be ash so soon—Europe is a dangerous place to be superhuman.

It took me ten minutes to arrive, as the school was quite close to our new house. I was mindful of that before buying it, as Dad and I didn't want to travel far to get to school and the bakery.

Speaking of Dad, he has become quite famous in the new neighborhood, especially with the women, which gives Mother a lot of headaches. But she's not insecure, as she knows Father—he's terrified of her and won't even look at another woman.

Now he usually closes the bakery at 4 p.m., making preparations for the next day after that. The Ashford biscuits became popular quite quickly, and I was proud of Father.

The biscuits became so popular in just half a year that my father had to hire some people to help him make them.

The preparation of biscuits takes place in three shops. I gave Father instructions on how to keep the recipe secret, as I want to build a company based on sweets in the near future, and I'm sure Father would love to handle that.

"Hey Max, I was waiting for you," said the shy red-haired boy. It was Austin Blackwood.

"Hello, Austin. Why are you waiting at the gate? Now you're late too," I sighed, looking at the boy.

"But...but, I couldn't leave my friend to be late alone," he said with a sad face.

Austin looked down, and somehow his face reminded me of a sad golden retriever puppy, which made me smile a little. Apparently, Austin had decided he wanted to be my best friend. He studies fiercely because he also wants to go to a prestigious college with me.

"Thanks for waiting. Well, let's go; we don't want Hector to wait any longer, though at this point it doesn't really matter," I said. Austin's face lit up hearing me, and we both walked towards the class.

Our school was quite old and relatively well-known in the area. It had children of quite rich people, but not anyone with significant political power. Everyone was of the same group—"commoners." This prevented any unnecessary bullying due to someone's family status, and it also made my life easier. It was also an all-boys school, so there was no unnecessary romance drama.

"Oh, the great poet has arrived. And who's behind you? Your assistant?" said a middle-aged man with contempt.

His statement made the class laugh at us.

The man taught us mathematics. He was a graduate from a mediocre college, an arrogant asshole, and also the first name on my revenge list.

"Go to your seats and keep quiet. A little money doesn't make you the center of the world," he said, looking at both me and Austin, as we both had new money.

Some of the classmates had contemptuous sneers, while others just had amused expressions.

Austin was too afraid to do anything. I nudged his shoulder and walked towards the seat in the back, while he woke from his stupor and sat beside me.

"Alright, now let's continue," said Hector, while I just zoned out of the class as there was nothing this pathetic man could teach me.

As I was thinking about things, I got an amazing idea:

"Maybe I should introduce Herbert to Miss Hector," I thought with a devilish smile.

School ended at 2 p.m., and I started to walk towards the bakery, as today I would be getting some biscuits for little Henry.

I arrived at Ashford Bakery. It was a large shop, but there were no luxurious decorations that you would normally find in a shop as big as ours. Father refused to "upgrade" his business.

He didn't increase prices even though the quality of the products had significantly increased due to much more expensive ingredients. We were making a negligible profit from bread and biscuits, but not for long, as I am preparing a biscuit brand that will be super expensive, and I'm sure the idiot nobles and lords will buy them to show off their class. It's just the marketing that needs to be just right.

After taking the sweets for the boy, I headed to Herbert's house. I had some news to break to him.

I had reduced my visits to his house a lot, as there were none of his books that I couldn't find in the library of my mind, and Herbert was working on another book. This time, he didn't want my help as I too was busy with school and my own book.

Amy's classes were no longer necessary, as at this point I can conduct myself well in a noble gathering, though I'm still not sure about attending any.

I told Herbert about some of the remarks made by the nobles, and he wasn't surprised, as he too came from a humble background and had faced similar people.

And he said something that shook me: "They will never respect you, Max. You could be the richest person in the world, and still they would tell you how dirty you are. You can't do anything to please that kind of people."

I thought a lot about this problem, and I came to the conclusion that I don't need their respect. It's going to be fine as long as they are terrified of me.

[POV End]

[Third Person POV]

"You want to write a fiction book? And here I thought you were working on your poems for the next book," grumbled Herbert.

"You did help me with writing my book, so it's not new for you, Max, but I still think it would be better for you to write a collection of poems. They will sell great, be shorter in length, and of great quality. There's no need for you to find your genre—we already know it," continued Herbert.

"(Sigh), I know that, teacher, but I am confident in my writing. I will run the drafts by you first, and if you don't find the book satisfactory, I'll scrap the idea," said Max.

"What's the subject of the book?" asked Herbert, curious.

Max smirked and said, "Magic."

Herbert's eyes widened. "A century ago, and you would be burned for writing blasphemy. Heck, even 50 years ago would have sufficed," said Herbert in shock.

Max just smiled as he listened to his mentor.

Seeing the boy's expression, Herbert realized he couldn't talk him out of it. He would just have to read the manuscripts and check and remove anything that could get the boy in trouble.

"Alright, but I will be the first to read the manuscript. What are you going to name it?" asked Herbert, trying to get an idea about the book.

The boy sitting in front of him passed the pages to the man.

Herbert took the pages and read the title of the book aloud: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

[POV end]

[First Person POV]

"So, what do you think?" asked a tall, middle-aged man with black hair and thick glasses to his old colleague.

"It's good work, but not enough. Maybe Westminster, but he can't come here. He would need a letter from the king himself to get an admission," replied the old man.

"You would have been ecstatic if he were good at rowing, wouldn't you, Headmaster?" mused the tall man.

"It's not like that, Gilbert," sighed the old man. "He would only bring problems for himself and the faculty. It would be better for the boy to go to a literary school."

"You're scared of the backlash. You just want to play it safe because you'd be removed from the Headmaster's chair if you took bold decisions," said the tall man named Gilbert, his words dripping with venom.

"Gilbert! Don't forget, I am your father," said the old man.

Gilbert mockingly smiled. "Oh, I apologize, Lord Father. But didn't you give me specific instructions to address you as the Headmaster in this prestigious office?"

At this point, the old man was furious. "Get out before I write a suspension letter for you."

Gilbert just smiled and left the office with a confident stride, as he wasn't that optimistic about the boy's admission in the first place. But he didn't want the regret of not even trying.

"If he's that good, I'll meet him soon," said the man to himself.

[POV end]

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Sorry for the late upload.