Infinite Rebate System: Beautiful Women And Endless Returns

The Arts building foyer was busy.students cross-crossing between notice boards, timetable sheets, and the small café tucked into the left corner. Xavier walked in like he had a reason to be there and immediately oriented himself.

Notice board on the right wall. A cluster of girls near the café. A long corridor leading to studios and lecture rooms. The general comfortable chaos of a faculty where deadlines were artistic and therefore flexible.

He spotted Sarah at the notice board.

She was alone this time, running a finger down a printed sheet, probably the semester schedule with a slight frown of concentration that made her look younger and more human than she had in the courtyard.who would’ve thought the Sarah I knew would be interested in school schedules.

Xavier walked to the notice board.

He stood two feet to her left and studied the event listings posted there exhibitions, society signups, a spoken word night with the relaxed attention of a man who had every right to be exactly where he was.

Sarah glanced at him the way people glance at strangers in shared spaces.

Her expression did something interesting: a flicker of distaste, quick and instinctive, the kind that comes before the brain catches up with manners. Then it smoothed over into polite neutrality. The social mask sliding on in under a second.

There it is, Xavier thought, not looking at her. You looked at me and filed me under as not worth my time before I opened my mouth. Familiar feeling.

He chilled for thirty seconds before speaking.

"Is the Food and Nutrition faculty schedule up here?" he asked conversationally, still looking at the board. Not at her.

Sarah blinked. "Sorry?"

"Food and Nutrition. First year. Our notice boards were packed so I figured Arts would have more space." He said it with a light, slightly clueless shrug.

Everything she expects from a man she’d never consider.

In her head he could almost hear it. She was thinking okay, just answer and he’ll leave.

"I don’t think so," she said, pleasantly enough. "This is just Arts faculty stuff."

"Right. Figured." He nodded, stepped back like he was wrapping up, then paused and glanced at the sheet she’d been reading.

"Semester showcase — that’s the big Arts exhibition? End of year?"

Something shifted in her energy. Barely visible. But there.

"Mid-year actually," she said. "And end of year. The mid-year one has external judges."

"Are you performing?"

She looked at him properly for the first time. Assessing. He met it with open, simple curiosity. Nothing hungry. Nothing eager. Just a question from someone who happened to be standing nearby.

"Singing," she said. "And spoken word."

"Nice." He said it like he meant it without enthusiasm, without flattery. The tone of someone who respects a thing without being impressed by the person doing it.He couldn’t bear holding the conversation with the woman who ruined his life but he had to do it for the flow.

"Good luck with it."Xavier let out a minute smirk.

He turned and walked out.

Behind him Sarah Torres stood at the notice board and watched the door swing shut with an expression she probably didn’t know she was making.

Something about him feels strange but nevertheless he’s just another random lowlife.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The corridor back to the Food and Nutrition block was busy with students moving between buildings and Xavier was navigating through the flow when it happened.

A shoulder. Hard and deliberate.

He caught the edge of the doorframe before he went down fully but the stumble was real — bag swinging, one knee almost hitting the floor. Behind him a burst of laughter exploded from a group of three guys who hadn’t broken their stride.

"Watch where you’re going freshman!"

More laughter. They disappeared around the corner like it was the funniest thing they’d seen all morning.

Xavier straightened up slowly. Adjusted his bag strap. Looked at the corner they’d turned.

Nice play, he thought, completely unbothered. Take the win. I’m not interested in that kind of nonsense right now.

He dusted his trousers off.

It’s part of university life. Somebody always has to establish something in the first week. Fine. We’ll revisit that later but for now we have more serious pending problems.

He walked into the classroom and dropped into his seat.

"That was some action back there," Amira said from the seat beside him, clearly having seen the whole thing through the corridor window.

Xavier glanced at her. Then reached over and flicked her lightly on the forehead with one finger.

"Ow —"

"Just lowlife scums," he said flatly, pulling out his phone. "Not worth the energy."

Amira rubbed her forehead and stared at him. "Did you just flick me?"

"You were being dramatic."

"I said four words."

"Dramatically." He leaned back in his chair.

"How’s your forehead."

"Fine," she muttered, still staring. Then she turned back to her textbook with the expression of someone who had decided that processing Xavier Cole was a project for another day.

Kelvin appeared from nowhere two seconds later, dropping into the seat in front of Xavier and spinning around to face him with the energy of a man who had been waiting to debrief.

"Bro where did you go during the break?"

he said. "I turned around and you were just gone."

"Arts building," Xavier said.This was obviously not he’s business but lemme entertain this silly convo for now.

Kelvin’s eyebrows went up. "Arts? Why — you know somebody there?"

"Checking the notice boards."

"Our notice boards aren’t good enough?" Kelvin grinned. "Or were you checking out the Arts girls because honestly valid, the ratio over there is—"

"Kelvin." Xavier looked at him. "Do you talk this much in every conversation or is this a first day thing."

Kelvin opened his mouth. Closed it. Then grinned wider like being called out was a form of affection. "Both probably." He spun back around when the lecturer walked in.

"We’ll continue this."

No we won’t, Xavier thought.

The second lecturer of the day was nothing like Mrs. Adeyemi. Young late twenties maybe with the relaxed confidence of someone who actually liked what he taught. He introduced himself as Dr. Micheal, dropped his bag on the desk without ceremony, and skipped the pleasantries entirely.

"Food and Nutrition is not a soft course,"

he said, writing something on the board without looking at them. "Half the people in this room think they’re here to learn how to cook. The other half think it’s an easy path to a science degree." He turned around.

"Both groups are wrong. What you’re actually here to learn is how to solve problems that kill people. Malnutrition. Food insecurity. Supply chain gaps in healthcare. Real problems." He looked around the room. "Any questions before we start?"

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