The Good Teacher

Unfortunately, apart from the theatre, the Entertainment District offered very little in terms of "PG-rated" entertainment. There were gambling houses. Sure the district was colourful and bright; as the sun started to set, different lanterns were lit and hostesses wearing vibrant and alluring outfits started to stream out and pull customers towards their establishments. In fact, there was an abundance of such establishments in the district - it felt like Las Vegas or Monaco given the captivating lighting and abundance of gambling and betting games in place. Yet Guy couldn't take Dora in there, so they moved on.

There was also a surplus of bars, tea houses, clubs and restaurants distributed amidst these gambling places. Most of these businesses ran on a booking and reservation-based system. Either a room or table must be permanently booked by someone or a group which solely catered to them, or a reservation well in advance must be made for a seat. Although Guy had neither going for him, Jean did. Jean directed them to one of the better restaurants in the area called the Red Lobster, Guy could not control his expression from bursting agape at the uncanny similarity between the restaurant's name and logo with that of the franchise from his past life. His first instinct was to suspect another transmigrator of which only one name popped into his mind: Jo Way. Guy had been wondering why he had yet to hear of some mundane invention or system from his past life suddenly arriving in this world, blowing up and changing everything. After all, this was usually a regular transmigrator's bread and butter - his own attempts to output Earthly inventions like the Printing Press, Lathe and Milling machine would act as examples in this instance. However, his theories and wild fantasies were popped when he learned that the similarity was all a coincidence or as Mast would put it, the perfect synchronisation of incalculable probabilities resulting in a repeat event.

The hostess at the front, managing the reservations, guided the group to the Rasmus Clan's pre-booked room. The restaurant had two levels. At the ground level, the tables were arranged circularly, radiating outwards from the centre where a moderately large stage stood. Upon the stage, a trio of girls in their early twenties, garbed in highly fashionable and attractive clothes, each played the same instrument but ran different harmonies to support the primary motif. It was a string instrument that looked a lot like a rotund double bass and was played by plucking the strings. The instrument had a hollow and pot-like base section and a metre-long neck. In total, it had eight strings, with four running above the neck and four running by its side (to be playable with the thumb). The instrument was called the 'hummer' especially because of the droning sound emanated by the four strings that were accessible by the thumb. Two of the three instrumentalists played a harmonising melody with their thumbs strumming a constant hum of two complementary motifs and their other fingers dancing maniacally across the strings producing a call and response - as if the two instruments were communicating with each other. The third acted as a percussionist, thumping the pot base at different locations to produce a variety of sounds, and accentuated the "conversation" taking place between the two other instrumentalists with intermitted chords, arpeggios and strums.

Altogether, a pleasant medley pervaded the airways in the Red Lobster. "It's weird how we can't hear what's going on in the room neighbouring ours, but the sound of music is as clear as a cricket's chirp in the middle of the forest," Guy commented.

"Did anyone notice how all three of the women playing those hummers looked exactly the same?" Dora asked after downing an entire glass of the palate-opening drink that was suspiciously tasteless. Guy thought it was water due to its transparency, but even water has some taste!

"They're the Sang Heet Sisters, they're triplets," Jean answered, then turned to Guy and continued, "The rooms are lined with privacy rituals. No sound can go in or out, except for anything that occurs on the restaurant's stage."

"What are triplets?" Dora inquired.

"It's like twins except with three kids," Markus explained.

"Woah! Three people can be born at the same time too?"

"And four, and five and in rare occasions six," Guy entertained with a mysterious smile.

"That's crazy!" Dora hopped in excitement. "Can I go meet them? I've never seen another set of twins before!"

Jean interjected with a long "ah", indicating her hesitance to follow up on Dora's request. "The sisters DO have a meet and greet today after nine, sort of like a social networking event. But..."

"But?" Guy probed.

"It will probably be filled with other scions. Tomorrow happens to be the start of the events held by the Co-operative of Teachers AND the Solar Sect Alliance. They'll all probably be scouting out their competitions and forming cliques. I'd rather not get caught up in that," Jean responded with twitching lips.

"I don't get it," Markus murmured. "I'd understand why scions from up-and-coming households, business families, and Clans would want to network and schmooze their way into the good graces of noteworthy Teachers. But why sects? Why would those from the renowned clans want to give up their claims to the clan's lineage and enrol into Sects? Don't they already have access to all the resources they need?"

"Not really," Jean shrugged. "The condition in clans is much worse than it appears. You see, the resource distribution in clans is decided on a generation-by-generation basis. Within each generation, a periodic assessment is conducted to evaluate the potential of the clan's children. Those that show great promise get assigned a large allotment of resources while those with weaker potential get fewer. Now, other factors also play a role in this distribution that may or may not tamper with the fairness of the process."

Jean pointed at herself and said, "I, for instance, failed my Clans periodic assessment - or scored quite low. Because of that, my resource allocation was the lowest within my generation. However, my father made a few adjustments and secured more for me. But again, they were of little use as I was simply unable to cultivate."

"Until now," Markus reminded, to which Jean revealed a smile that barely registered on her stony facade.

"Children of concubines and bastards, they are the ones who usually get suppressed compared to the true-borns. Social pressure, as well as monetary pressures both, play a role in widening this discrepancy. So what can these children do? If they don't have enough power, they naturally get turned into punching bags for their siblings. To escape this torture, they join the sects. And, you should know that even the weakest of scions from a clan starts at a higher baseline than your average person, given the amount of natural and alchemical treatments their body is subjected to from a very young age," Jean concluded.

"So because they failed to conquer the hill they were born in, they choose to find a much smaller hill and conquer that?" Markus scoffed. "How cowardly!"

"Sometimes you aren't left with much choice," Guy said with a shrug. "We mustn't judge the bounteousness of a pasture on the other side of a river if we have only ever lived on this side. Children don't choose who they are born to or where they are born. Yet given their circumstances of birth, they must do whatever is necessary to survive and thrive. We find it dishonourable or cowardly because, from our position, it seems as such. Take a moment to think from their perspective, and it won't seem so wrong."

"But these kids abuse their superiority to oppress and bully others less fortunate than them. You cannot be asking me to forgive that?!" Markus retorted uncharacteristically with a raised voice.

"It's not about forgiveness," Guy denied with a firm shake of his head. "It's about not making hasty judgements. It's indisputable that they are doing something ethically flawed, but do not forget that their demeanour in large part is a result of their upbringing and growth environment. The people that need to be blamed are those that caused the kid to become that way."

Guy revealed a jocular smile and said, "Babies aren't born evil, after all."

"That is a naive thought," Josie snorted from by the door. She refused to sit with her Young Miss and indulge in the dinner and opted to resume her security and protection operation.

"Oh yeah? Name one baby that voluntarily committed arson, murder, assault, racketeering, and any other heinous crime in the Radiant Empire's lawbooks?" Guy challenged.

Josie narrowed her gaze incredulously. "What in the-"

"Exactly!" Guy interjected. "You can't name one because none exist. Thus my claim holds."

"Master, I don't-" Markus tried to contribute, but his mouth was immediately filled with appetizers by Guy.

"Hurry up and eat! We need to be prepared for the registration tomorrow. It's going to be a HUGE day for us, we cannot afford any mistakes!" Guy orated clearly.

And with that, the group started to eat the delectable dinner. As they exited, Dora complained that she couldn't see more of the vast Capital. After some back and forth, Guy finally convinced the girl that he would take her to more places once the workload from the Sect's registration died down. However, he was surprised to learn that some of the staff members from the Rasmus Mansion were prepared to take the girl along with them and show her around the Capital. Although he was uncomfortable leaving his ward in the hands of strangers, Jean and Josie vouched for them and promised that a small security detail would tail Dora at all times. That was enough to placate Guy's worries.

'So one to-do accomplished,' Guy said while releasing a tenuous breath and staring at his room's ceiling. "Now comes the hectic part!"