Morning arrived.
The room was still dim. The tall, curtainless windows did little to block the early sunlight spilling into the cramped space.
A faint snoring echoed softly from inside.
Al, the ever-lazy young man, lay sprawled across his less-than-clean bed.
His hair was a mess, one cheek squished against his palm as if it had permanently replaced his pillow, while one of his legs had gone completely numb thanks to his ridiculous sleeping position.
Calm.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
GRAAARR—GRAAARR!!
A thunder-like ringtone suddenly exploded from a black phone lying on the floor. The vibration alone was enough to shatter the silence.
Al cracked one eye open, dazed and annoyed.
"Ugh… that ringtone…" he hissed.
With sluggish movements, he crawled over and grabbed the phone. The moment it landed in his hand, whatever remaining desire to sleep he had was forcibly put on hold.
Because that ringtone wasn't just for anyone.
Only the most important people had been assigned that tone—names so deep in the underground that even the underworld wouldn't acknowledge them unless absolutely necessary.
Al didn't speak immediately.
He simply pressed the phone to his ear while slowly sitting up, wincing as pins and needles shot through his numb leg.
No conversation was heard—only a long, drawn-out monologue from the caller.
He listened. For a very long time.
Then, finally, he spoke briefly.
"…Alright."
More time passed. Al kept listening, more focused on massaging the numbness back into his leg than anything else.
Eventually, an update came in that was enough to shake off both his drowsiness and the stiffness.
"Yes. Based on our investigation team… that shaman is in Makazhar City. But unfortunately… we still haven't pinpointed his exact location."
"We'll work on it and report back to you soon… Master."
Al narrowed his eyes.
"So that's how it is… out of all places he could've gone, he chose here."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"Guess he doesn't realize… what he should've avoided the most…"
His expression darkened slightly, amusement slipping in.
"…is already right here."
And just like that, the call ended.
Click.
Al placed the phone back down on the floor and stared at the stained ceiling for a few seconds before rolling over, stretching out his slowly recovering leg.
"Annoying… and the morning's not even fully here yet," he muttered—half complaint, half surrender.
Then he flopped back down.
Still half-drowsy, his mind drifted back to everything that had happened since returning to this house.
He reflected.
"This family is full of annoying drama. I haven't even decided what I'm going to do with this family yet…"
"…and some people already made it clear they don't want me here."
"That Sarah… and of course… that brat, David. Even using a maid just to frame me."
"Should I teach them a lesson now?" he wondered.
But in the end, he shook his head.
"No. Not yet. I still need to assess the situation."
He exhaled slowly.
"For now… let him play his little games. He's just a spoiled kid anyway. Nothing important."
"But wait…" His eyes narrowed. He reached toward the corner of his eye. "That kid… I can't see through him… how?"
"And not just him… but also—"
His eyes flashed red.
Dimensional Eye – Phase One: Activated
"…them."
His gaze shifted toward a cluster of figures hiding in the shadows of the trees outside, clearly watching the house.
"This Dimensional Eye can't read them either. Strange."
Ever since it had been implanted into him, nothing had ever been as simple as it looked.
The Dimensional Eye was a legendary organ said to originate from an ancient civilization—one that could perceive the essence of everything in existence.
Unfortunately, it had been shattered into four fragments during a great chaos in the past. So far, Al had only recovered two, leaving its true power incomplete.
Which meant the remaining fragments still had to be found if he wanted it fully awakened.
For now, though, even two fragments were already more than enough. Still, completion was far more urgent—especially with potential dangers lurking at every turn.
"Either they've got something blocking this eye… or their essence is too deep for me to read in this incomplete state."
"Who knows."
In the end, Al chose to ignore the mystery for now and return to the most important thing in his life.
Sleep.
With a long yawn, drowsiness crept back in like an uninvited guest.
"Good night… hmph… I mean, good morning."
And with that final mumble as his eyes closed—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three hesitant yet clear knocks echoed against the old wooden door.
Al, barely entering the first stage of sleep, forced his eyes open.
Red from exhaustion, they glared at the source of the noise.
With a groggy scowl, he grabbed a nearby rag and weakly tossed it toward the door.
"Mmmgh… who the hell is it this early…" he muttered, half annoyed, half asleep.
Knock. Knock.
This time, a bit louder.
With great reluctance, Al dragged himself upright and stared at the door with the vengeful gaze of someone deeply betrayed by life. He crawled slowly toward the door like a tired caterpillar on the verge of death.
He reached out and turned the knob with the energy of a defeated soul—then pulled the door inward…
Unfortunately, he forgot one thing.
The door swung inward.
As it opened, Al, still leaning on it from the floor, got pulled backward—slamming into the floor and the wall behind him, half-crushed by the door.
"Ouchh!"
The male servant standing outside froze. He blinked. The door had opened… but no one was there.
"…Y-Young Master Al?"
Slowly, he peeked inside.
And what he saw made him question his entire morning.
A teenage boy was lying on the floor, face half-pressed against the wall behind the door, eyes half-open like some creature clinging to the last thread of life.
"…Oh, you came in too?" Al mumbled lazily, still not bothering to get up. "Be careful… gravity in this room is kinda insane. Makes it hard to stand."
The servant went stiff.
For a moment, he looked like he couldn't decide whether to answer… or run and call a healer.
"U-uh… y-yes… excuse me. Breakfast will be ready in an hour, Young Master. You're requested to join the family dining hall."
Still struggling to stand, Al slowly lifted one limp arm and pointed at himself.
"Me? Young… master?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.
"…Yes, Young Master," the servant replied nervously.
"Hmmm... Right, I am the young master," Al muttered, rubbing his face with a hint of irritation.
"Then tell me—since you knew that I'm the Young Master, why are you brave enough to disturb my precious sleep?"
"I-I was only following orders, Young Master. Please forgive me," the servant stammered, bowing slightly.
Al chuckled softly.
"Hehe, relax. I was just joking. But next time, if someone tells you to wake me up…"
A strange smile slipped onto his face, his tone dropping slightly colder as he patted the servant's shoulder.
"…do it gently, okay?"
The servant nodded rapidly, muttering apologies over and over.
"Alright then," Al grumbled. "Breakfast at this hour, huh? I usually eat around noon."
He shuffled across the room like a zombie heading toward its coffin.
"Rich people really enjoy torturing themselves early in the morning…"
And just like that, he went to get ready.
---
One hour later – Virellano Family Dining Room
The main dining table looked grand and luxurious, as always. Each family member sat with grace, some already dressed in formal attire.
The mood was serious and quiet, only broken by occasional clinks of cutlery and light chatter.
Then, footsteps echoed from the hallway. A young man appeared, wearing a wrinkled white T-shirt, lounge pants, and slightly messy hair.
Al.
With a suspiciously cheerful face and oddly sparkling eyes, he strolled in like it was his own birthday party.
Without hesitation, he sat down at an empty seat beside Aurielle this time instead of the one he used last night, smiling brightly.
On the opposite side of the table, Sandra, Sarah, and David sat shoulder to shoulder in a tight row.
It was Al's first family breakfast—and he had no intention of ruining it.
"Good morning, everyone," he greeted cheerfully.
Every head turned at once to the source of this visual and social anomaly. Several servants instinctively lowered their heads to hide their baffled expressions.
Edward and Sandra exchanged a brief look.
After what happened last night—remembering the injuries on Al's body and the sharp sarcasm in his words, they weren't truly ready to face him yet.
And now… he was here.
Edward set down his teacup slowly, a short sigh slipping through his lips. Something felt off.
Why hasn't this boy prepared himself yet? Doesn't he have school?
The orphanage staff said he was attending one, though they didn't specify where.
Don't tell me he's planning to quit school altogether… or demand a transfer to an elite institution?
He frowned slightly and called out, voice calm but carrying a restrained edge of irritation.
"Don't you have school today?" he asked. His eyes scanned Al's entire appearance.
"Yes, I do, Father," Al answered with a smile and twinkling eyes.
Edward blinked—then his face hardened, anger beginning to rise again.
"Then why aren't you dressed yet? Doesn't school start at eight? It's already past six. The driver leaves at seven, Where even is your school?"
Al was about to reply, but—
"He probably goes to some second-rate school," Sarah cut in.
Al turned to her. Their eyes met. Again—Sarah. Once more, the tension between them sparked—like a silent declaration of war.
Huft... This woman again. It's still morning, for god's sake, Al grumbled inwardly, slightly annoyed.
Al didn't want to deal with her.
He then shifted his gaze away from Sarah and focused on his father instead.
"Sorry, Father. But I have afternoon classes—1 to 5 PM. Six days a week, not five like normal classes," he said casually.
"Huh? Since when do public schools have afternoon sessions?" Edward frowned, confusion mirrored by everyone else at the table.
Al shook his head.
"My school's private, not public."
Rather than being convinced, Edward looked even more suspicious. His gaze shifted toward Aurielle.
"Do private schools even have afternoon classes?"
Aurielle tilted her head slightly.
"Usually only elite ones, Dad. David's school has afternoon programs too, remember? I'm not sure about regular private schools, but maybe some do—especially smaller ones."
Edward nodded thoughtfully before turning back to Al.
"You're not lying, are you? Don't tell me this is just excuse."
"Of course not. Why would I lie?" Al replied evenly, then added in a calm but pointed tone,
"Lying only creates more problems down the line… and I don't like long, dragged-out trouble."
They could only stare at him in silence.
"Good then," Edward replied, still slightly skeptical, then pressed again. "But… you really have afternoon classes?"
Al nodded casually while taking a bite of his breakfast.
"Yes. But if it's hard to believe, I can bring my class schedule report—or anything that can prove it. As long as proving it isn't too troublesome, I can do it."
Edward simply waved his hand.
"Hm… no need then. Just live like that," he said. "But I want to ask something else."
"What is it?" Al asked curiously.
"Do... you know why the data about you are restricted? Both by the Foundation and the Ministry of Child Protection?" Edward asked.
The question immediately caught everyone's attention. They had all heard the rumors before—but never gotten a clear answer.
David, in particular, looked especially interested. He had been digging for anything he could use against Al, but the records were sealed too tightly to break through.
I get it if the Ministry restricted it, Al thought.
But the Foundation too?
So far, they haven't told me anything about that. That must be their doing. I'll need to ask those two later.
Out loud, he simply shook his head.
"I have no idea. Maybe it's because of child protection regulations… the disclosure permit for this family probably hasn't been issued yet."
Then he added casually,
"But if there's anything you want to know about me, feel free to ask directly."
His answer left the table slightly disappointed, though it also made sense—Al himself didn't seem to know anything about it either.
Sandra nudged Edward discreetly, reminding him of the time. He glanced at his watch—he was due to leave soon.
"Al," Edward said, his tone softening a little,
"I don't know if you're telling the truth or not. But either way, you should get ready. There's no harm in leaving early. At least then I'll know for sure you're actually going to school."
Sandra and Aurielle both nodded in agreement.
David stayed silent, watching closely.
Sarah, however, couldn't help herself from muttering,
"He's obviously lying. There's no such thing as an afternoon class. He's just skipping."
Unfortunately, no one bothered to respond.
Al simply nodded, and it so happened that he also wanted to meet two people. Leaving earlier this time wasn't a problem.
Yeah. Better I just go to school this morning. I need to meet them and ask about that foundation issue.
Then I can decide whether it's necessary to explain my school life to this family or not.
He then stood up, shrugging.
"Alright, Father. If that's the case, then... I'll go change."
He grabbed a slice of toast and turned to leave.
Everyone stared—his casual demeanor was so unrefined for someone from a rich family.
Before Al could reach the door—
"Wait," Edward called out. "I think we should talk about this as well."
"Hmph… still more?" Al asked.
"It's about the people who'll be serving you," Edward said.
"Ah… that," Al murmured.
Edward nodded.
"As you know, your behavior last night caused quite a disturbance among the servants. Both female and male ones… they don't take kindly to harassment."
He lifted his head slightly.
"So to prevent anything unpleasant—including the possibility of someone getting hurt—we're recruiting new servants specifically assigned to you. The process will take some time."
Then he let out a small sigh and lowered his gaze.
"For this morning, you'll ride in David's car instead. So hurry up."
Al fell silent for a moment, wanting to say something—but in the end, he simply nodded.
"Alright, Father."
With that, he stood up and walked away.
But after just a few steps, he paused.
Wait… I'm riding with him?
He thought for a moment, then smirked faintly.
Fine. Maybe I'll get to learn more about him that way.
He resumed walking—but not before flicking his fingers subtly.
A faint trace of magical energy shimmered in the air, targeting one specific person: Sarah.
A little parting gift for your lovely attitude this morning, he thought mischievously.
A moment later, as Sarah took a sip of her coffee, she suddenly flinched.
"Ah—!"
The cup slipped, spilling the hot liquid all over her hand and dress. She yelped from the burn as the others jumped in shock.
No one knew what had caused her sudden clumsiness.
---
Minutes later, Al stepped out of his building—now dressed in his school uniform: white-grey clothes under an oversized black hoodie, hair roughly combed, shoes gleaming.
He munched on the toast, occasionally glancing around.
His eyes scanned the driveway. Empty. No car. No engine sounds. No one.
He walked to the large luxury garage—it too was empty. And far too quiet.
Tilting his head, Al mumbled,
"…Hmm?"
He walked around the garage corners, hoping to find a backup vehicle or anything. Nothing.
He stepped back out, greeted only by morning air and his own reflection in the glass walls of the quiet mansion.
It didn't take long for Al to piece it together.
"Oh… they left without me?"
His tone wasn't angry. Just… confused.
"If they didn't want to drive me, why say they would? Or is this David's doing?"
He leaned his back against the wall, finishing the last bite of his bread.
Pulling out his phone, he opened the map and zoomed in on the school's location. A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Should I ask them to send a car? he thought. Hmph… better not. My identity as a former orphan still needs to be kept.
Then... Taxi? Bus?
He then looked out at the cool morning scenery.
"Hmph… walking doesn't sound too bad. Morning air's supposed to be good for health anyway. Besides, it's not that far for a little stroll."
"Decide then."
He then walked away from the massive garage, leaving his reflection behind—hidden among the white marble pillars and the invisible eyes of the mansion's CCTV.
As he was about to step out, he spotted Dedy in the distance—out in the area west of the house.
Dedy was in the middle of his morning training. His shaved head glinted slightly under the morning sunlight.
His training seemed focused on speed—he looked a little more motivated after being toyed with by the Yellow Flash fan last night.
It seemed Dedy noticed Al as well, and immediately lowered his head, offering a light, respectful salute.
Al was slightly amused by it.
"Hmph… that guy was the one assigned to punish me last night. Who would've thought he'd be the first to salute me in this house," he mused.
"By the way, given his position—even if he's not like Harun—he probably has access to a lot more confidential information about elite families, especially the city's darker side."
"Right… unlike Harun and the others, Dedy might actually be the better choice. I should look into him first… I might be able to make use of him."
Al nodded back at Dedy, acknowledging the salute. Then he continued walking, pulling out his phone to call someone.
And so, his journey went on.
---
Meanwhile, inside a moving car, David watched the scene unfold through a tablet connected to the house's security feed.
A cold smile slowly crept onto his lips.
"If something this trivial can shake him, then he's not even worth being called my opponent," he muttered.
He switched off the tablet and turned his gaze to the scenery outside the car window.
"Even though I could wipe you out anytime," he said calmly, "it wouldn't be interesting unless you're crushed completely… orphan."
Confidence radiated from his expression. He truly believed Al was nothing more than a minor obstacle.
Too bad he had no idea what kind of person he was actually messing with.