The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 198: Enrollment

Setting aside the intricate and dark conspiracies simmering beneath the surface, schemes that Julian Sterling was not yet in a position to fully dismantle or even confront, he chose to turn his attention toward a far more immediate and constructive milestone: his return to the hallowed halls of academia. For Julian, this wasn’t merely a return to a routine. It was a sanctuary, a temporary reprieve from the suffocating power struggles that defined his life within the orbit of the Sterling Group and the Caldwell Empire. He needed a space where his value was measured by the stroke of a brush rather than the weight of a corporate merger.

This time, however, Julian would not be retracing his steps back to the mediocre environment of his previous institution. His sights were set higher, aimed directly at the Academy of Fine Arts within Saint Lawrence University. This establishment stood as the premier academic pillar of Saint Lawrence City, a prestigious bastion of higher learning that commanded respect and envy across the entire nation. Its name was synonymous with excellence and a legacy of producing the country’s most refined intellectuals and artists. To walk through its gates was to announce one’s arrival into the upper echelons of the creative world, a place where iron discipline met soaring inspiration.

The news of Julian Sterling’s sudden transfer was a closely guarded secret, known only to a tight-knit circle of trusted individuals. There were no flashy announcements to herald his move. Instead, Julian had secured his admission through the most undeniable and honorable method possible, he had obliterated the entrance examinations, claiming the top spot with a score that left the admissions board in awe. He had not relied on his family name or Ethan Caldwell’s influence. He had earned his place through sheer intellectual firepower and a hidden talent that was finally being allowed to breathe.

However, a small, nagging complication remained from the original narrative of his life. The foundational grades that the original inhabitant of this body, the Julian of the novel’s past, had achieved at his former university were, to put it bluntly, lamentable. They were the marks of a man who had lost his way, barely scraping by with the absolute minimum effort required to avoid total failure. After a long period of quiet deliberation, Julian arrived at a resolute conclusion. He would not attempt to navigate the messy and often judgmental process of credit transfers. Instead, he decided to forgo the convenience of his past results and start from the very beginning. He would build his academic foundation from the ground up, year one, ensuring that his new life was built on a bedrock of genuine excellence rather than the crumbling ruins of someone else’s mistakes.

There was simply no pride to be found in salvaged mediocrity. Why struggle to transfer credits that were a stain on his academic record? Julian had absolute faith in his own artistic vision and technical skill. He didn’t need the shortcuts provided by his past life’s failures. But perhaps more importantly, he harbored a secret, visceral dread of having too much leisure time on his hands. He had come to realize that an idle mind was a playground for anxiety, but in his current situation, an idle body was an even greater liability.

He had learned through many exhausted mornings that free time was a dangerous luxury. Whenever that scoundrel Ethan Caldwell caught Julian with a spare moment of peace, the man would invariably find a way to trap him, pinning him down for another round of relentless, soul-stirring intimacy. Julian felt as though his current physical constitution was simply not designed to withstand the sheer intensity and frequency of their bedroom encounters. He was convinced that if he did not find a way to moderate their physical passion, he would eventually meet his end through sheer physical depletion. The thought of being literally fucked to death was a terrifyingly real possibility that haunted his quiet moments.

While Julian was lost in these somewhat scandalous and distracting reflections, Ethan Caldwell was already moving with a quiet, practiced efficiency. The tall, powerful man stood beside the table, the morning light catching the sharp, handsome lines of his face as he meticulously arranged Julian’s school supplies into a sturdy backpack. Ethan looked less like a ruthless CEO and more like a protective guardian as he slung the bag over one of his broad shoulders. He reached out, his warm, large hand gently ruffling Julian’s soft hair with a tenderness that was visible in his every movement. Ethan’s eyes, usually as cold as winter ice when dealing with corporate rivals, now overflowed with an unmistakable, caving affection: "Finish your milk quickly, Jules. I’ll drive you to campus personally."

Julian obediently raised the glass, finishing the remaining half of the milk as if he were a child being watched by a stern but loving guardian. A thin, faint white trace remained at the corner of his lip, a small mark of his uncharacteristic compliance. He hurriedly reached for a napkin to wipe away the trace of milk before taking several quick sips of water to clear his palate and regain his composure: "I seem to recall that the route from here to the university isn’t exactly a convenient detour for your commute to the office, Ethan? I could just have the driver take me. There’s no need to impose on your schedule for something as simple as this."

"It is no trouble at all." Ethan countered smoothly, his tone leaving no room for further debate: "I promised I would be the one to escort you on your first day of enrolment, and I intend to keep it. I have already adjusted my morning meetings to accommodate us. To me, nothing is trivial if it concerns your new beginning."

"Fine then." Julian conceded with a soft sigh of resignation: "But please, select a vehicle that is relatively modest. Try to choose something that won’t make us the center of attention the moment we arrive. I would prefer not to be too ostentatious on my very first day. I want to blend in, not arrive like a visiting monarch."

Occasionally, Ethan would drive extravagant vehicles like a Maybach or a Rolls-Royce. Given the man’s immense wealth and status, such cars were merely practical modes of transport to him. However, the sight of such a regal vehicle appearing at the gates of a public university was an entirely different story. Saint Lawrence University might have been the pinnacle of academic achievement, boasting a progressive atmosphere and facilities that would rival any private institution, but it was not a playground for the pampered elite. It was a public sanctuary of knowledge, famous for its rigorous standards and iron-clad discipline. Many of the students who walked those paths had arrived there through sheer grit and intellectual fire, supported by full scholarships and meager monthly stipends.

Arriving in a gleaming, million-dollar supercar on the first day seemed excessively showy and would likely attract unnecessary, scrutinizing glares that would follow him into the classroom. Furthermore, Julian was acutely aware that this was the season when transfer students were being integrated into the campus community. He had absolutely no desire to be labeled as another hollow-headed rich kid who had used the power of a family checkbook to buy his way into a prestigious program through backroom deals. He wanted his work to speak for him, not the engine of his car.

It was a peculiar irony of human nature. Despite the university’s well-earned reputation for transparency and its iron-clad admission process, the public still harbored a deep, instinctive prejudice against those born with silver spoons. Unless a person of wealth could demonstrate a talent so blindingly superior that it left no room for doubt, any standard achievement would be cruelly dismissed. The masses would always prefer the simpler story: that the rich were merely occupying space they had purchased with dirty money. Julian knew that even with his top marks, the sight of a luxury car would provide enough fuel for a thousand rumors.

It was a fundamental contradiction, yet Julian understood it perfectly. Human beings were, by their very nature, complex, judgmental, and riddled with such paradoxes. They praised success but often loathed the display of it.