Female Novel
Chapter 1458
Quentin was tall and big. His intimidating stature alone was enough to persuade the group of skittish
girls to beat a hasty retreat, their heads hung low in defeat.
During the confrontation, two of Alva's bodyguards arrived. They were no slouches, clearly trainednovelbin
fighters, and they went to work on Quentin, leaving his cheeks swollen and bruised.
But he stood his ground, a steadfast sentinel, refusing them entry.
For a solid hour, he held the line. Meanwhile, Maja watched her personal share value curve upwards
with a sly smile. The simplicity of the rules here made things so much easier.
Once she'd set her mouse aside and looked up again, she was met with the sight of Quentin, his face
smeared with blood, his neck marked with bruises.
The bodyguards weren't faring much better. After an hour of scuffling, they were still deadlocked,
neither side conceding defeat.
Quentin was badly hurt, nearly passing out against the wall for support.
Maja sighed, this poor fool. He had no clue what she was up to and yet had thrown himself into the fray
believing in her.
The bodyguards stood at the door, panting and pointing accusatory fingers at Maja.
"You, you're coming with us to the Brennan family!"
"No need to take me anywhere. The Brennans will be here soon enough."
The bodyguards furrowed their brows, puzzled by the woman's confidence.
Right then, their phones buzzed. It was Alva, calling them back. Trouble had struck the Brennan family.
Once the bodyguards had left, Maja rushed over to Quentin, steadying him.
"Are you alright?"
Quentin shook his head, blood from his forehead dripping down in heavy drops.
Onlookers had gathered, a crowd of students and even some faculty members, including the principal,
who was there with his typically sanctimonious air, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"Maja, it's your first day, and already you've caused quite the stir. You damaged the work place, and
now this. Are you prepared to cover the damages?"
Maja, supporting Quentin, had intended to take him to the school's infirmary, but that plan was quickly
dissolving.
Quentin's vision was blurry, his sense of smell overwhelmed by iron. He could barely make out the
chatter around him, but one thing was clear: Maja was in trouble.
Crossing the Brennans could mean jail time.
In this world, money was power, and those without it remained at the bottom, their wealth concentrated
among a few influential families who never let it trickle down.
This was the grim reality of Forbidden Island's rules—resignation for the lower classes unless they
fought their way up through education, marked by tattoos as a sign of their efforts.
Quentin was a product of this system, but to the elite, he was just another interesting specimen.
Only the poor couldn't make a buck, which allowed the rich to swagger and treat the rest like ants. And
here, on the gunless island, firearms were the exclusive tools of the powerful, wielded to oppress those
below.
The principal clearly intended to hand Maja over to the Brennans, hoping to curry favor and perhaps
secure another building donation in the process.
Just as Maja was about to speak, the surrounding student whispers grew louder.
"That's Quentin, he seems to always act weird."
"Well, his grades put him above the rest. Whatever he does, he does right. But ticking off the
Brennans? That's a whole different story. Even his tattoo won't save him now."
"Ha, as if it won't save him. That tattoo is his get-out-of-jail-free card. He's top ten on the island. His
family will ride his coattails—if he even has any family, that is."
Maja bristled at the gossip. The students revered the jellyfish tattoo too highly, their envy of Quentin
palpable.
In five years, Quentin was the only one worthy of the ink—a sacred honor, indeed a lifeline.
So the principal waved over two teachers to escort Quentin to have his wounds treated. If anything
happened to him, questions would be asked. He was a promising talent, after all.
Quentin, however, would have none of it. He shrugged off those people’s hands.
Clutching Maja's arm, his voice was hoarse, "What's your plan?"