Morning came without mercy.
The sun burned on the skin, birds chirped like they were mocking the lazy, and Al's biological clock—as usual—forced him to wake up… in total misery.
It was Monday.
The cursed day for anyone who worships long sleep.
The day that follows Sunday feels like time itself has committed betrayal.
Al, who had been sleeping rather uncomfortably inside his dimensional room, slowly opened his eyes. His body still felt sore from the 'night of judgment' he had just gone through.
He stared at the grand, intricately designed ceiling above him—quietly, for quite a while—until his mind began to regain its rhythm.
And the first thing that resurfaced in his memory was the incident from last night, which only added another layer of irritation to what was already a miserable Monday.
But what still bothered him the most… was how his father's slap could pierce through his magical barrier.
"Could it be that the bond between parent and child can actually nullify negative magical effects? Is this some kind of divine rule, set by the being people call God?" he muttered drowsily.
"Does that mean my parents hold absolute authority over me?And how long does that effect even last… is it because I'm still seventeen?"
Letting out a long yawn, he sat up and stretched his neck a little.
"I guess I should test it again when I turn eighteen… just a few more months to go," he murmured, shaking his head to cast away the troublesome thoughts.
Then, he raised his right hand in front of his abdomen, his forearm facing upward.
With just a bit of concentration, magical energy began to circulate throughout his arm, both inside and outside his flesh. It felt as though his body and soul were synchronizing, resonating together as one.
Before long, a golden-crimson light shimmered and enveloped his arm. A faint smile tugged at his lips. He was, at the very least, satisfied with what he could sense—the undeniable increase in the energy now flowing through him.
"The early stage of the Grandmaster Level," he murmured with a trace of joy. "The sensation isn't too different, but it feels so much steadier. Truly stable."
But that fleeting sense of contentment did not last.
Just moments later, streaks of pitch-black energy intertwined with the golden-crimson glow. A troubling sign that there was still an unstable, untamed power lurking deep within him.
"Arghh... that unstable energy is still trying to devour my stable energy. My journey's still far from over," he complained under his breath.
Al could not help but feel a tinge of disappointment.
Still, as far as he was concerned, this much was already acceptable, even satisfying. After all, what truly mattered was not the type of energy one possessed, but rather who was in control.
Or perhaps, more accurately—who would consume whom. Would he eventually be devoured by that instability, or would he be the one to dominate it completely?
With a casual flick of his hand, the swirling energy dispersed, fading into nothingness.
He then got up from the bed with sluggish movements, left his dimensional space, and returned to the small building that could barely be called his room—if a place that looked more like a storage shed even deserved to be called one.
"Huff... mornings are such a pain," Al groaned.
He stretched his body lazily and began doing a few light warm-ups to loosen his muscles.
"Oh, right! If I could fully master the art of imagery, would it be possible to command them to move my body for me? That way, I could simply rest while they handled everything in my stead."
The notion was nothing more than a wild theory drifting in his head.
Yet the moment he imagined his Id taking control of his body, the image of himself—no, of that version of him—unleashing destruction upon the world sent a shiver down his spine.
On the other hand, if it were his Superego that took the reins, it would no doubt become excessively benevolent, tolerating even blatant acts of injustice.
The possibilities unsettled him, leaving him chilled and uneasy.
He could only hope, in the depths of his heart, that such a scenario would never come to pass.
"Ugh… no, no. They can't control me." he muttered, slightly panicked by the direction of his own thoughts.
He then walked to the door, opened it slowly...
And instantly squinted—not because of the sunlight, but because of the reflection of the sunlight from someone's bald head.
"Uwahhh… what the—?!" he yelped, instinctively raising both hands to block the sudden burst of light.
Someone was standing tall at the doorway—back facing Al—his posture rigid, like a military statue carved from stone.
Broad shoulders. Towering height. Even from behind, that figure exuded the kind of presence that could make lesser men wet their pants.
Al narrowed his eyes.
"…Dedy?"
The bald man turned slowly, his harsh expression unchanged, but...
He saluted.
Right hand clenched into a fist and pressed against his left chest. Firm. Respectful. Full of reverence.
Al blinked.
Several times.
"…Did you mistake me for someone else?" he muttered lazily.
Dedy shook his head, then bowed.
"Good morning, Young Master Al," said Dedy in a deep voice that could crack glass on a bad day.
Al just stared. "...What are you doing here?"
"I am monitoring the area around the house," Dedy answered firmly, still standing like he was guarding a palace.
"This building is three hundred meters from the main house. Why are you monitoring here?" Al asked, slightly annoyed.
"I must monitor every inch of the Virellano residential area, Young Master."
"Hmph… That's not your job, is it?"
"I-it is part of my duty, Young Master," Dedy stammered.
"Were you told to watch me?"
"Of course not, Young Master."
"Huh… whatever." Al waved him off lazily.
"But I don't really like being watched, so keep a reasonable distance. Because if I start feeling uncomfortable… I might do something you won't like." he added calmly.
Hearing that, Dedy's body stiffened.
Sweat started forming on his brow—despite the sun, it hadn't been there until now. Swallowing hard, Dedy responded obediently:
"U-understood, Young Master Al."
Al smiled faintly after teasing Dedy. Ever since he started living in this house, that man—this cold-blooded, granite-muscled human—had shown him a kind of respect that felt… genuine.
It made Al strangely comfortable about opening up.
Or perhaps… the man had a hidden agenda.
Even the ordinary servants never really treated Al like part of the family—let alone as their young master. They usually looked away, left him alone, and half-heartedly carried out any task involving him.
Like the wind, his presence could be felt… but never seen.
But this time—
Dedy, the elite bodyguard of the Virellano family, was standing at his door, greeting him as if he were a knight paying respect to his prince.
Al rubbed his face, thinking,
You were the executioner of my punishment last night… and now you're acting all gentle with me? Weird. He thought
But I guess that's not so bad. Because one day, you'll understand why I chose you. And you'll never regret it.
As Al stepped outside, the man moved aside, standing like a true guard. His bald head still reflected the morning sun like a blinding mirror.
Al squinted again. "Dedy…"
"Yes, Young Master?"
"I think you'd look more handsome with a hat."
No response. Dedy remained like a statue—but the corner of his lips slightly twitched, as if struggling to suppress a smile.
Al sighed lazily and walked down the small steps.
His mind still clouded with questions.
By the way, is this Father's order? A follow-up to last night's punishment? Why is Dedy acting so weird today? Or is it just because of my threat last night?
There was no definite answer, and he was too lazy to pry further.
He walked past Dedy and headed to the bathhouse, which was separate from his room.
As always, he still lived freely.
Even though, in others' eyes, he looked like a house prisoner—especially now, with Dedy's weird behavior—it felt like this 'prisoner' was under excessive surveillance.
But Al didn't know—this time, Dedy had voluntarily appointed himself as Al's personal subordinate.
On his way to the bathroom, Al caught the sharp glances of the household staff. Maybe it was the fallout from last night's slander. It was the opposite of how Dedy had behaved earlier.
Dedy—unlike the other servants and bodyguards—was someone who, for whatever reason, remained deeply loyal to the family.
Beyond that, from the beginning he had tried to treat Al with respect and see him as a person.
The other workers weren't just indifferent to Al; their stares were piercing. It felt like social punishment directed at a criminal.
They had been heavily influenced by David and the others who rejected Al.
So that was how they looked at him: with disgust. The image of Al as a sexual predator and a wild, barbaric child had only grown in their eyes—even though it was rooted in manipulation.
---
Meanwhile, inside the Main House...
David stood behind the curtain of his bedroom window, peeking into the small yard where Al had just stepped out.
The satisfaction he felt last night seeing Al punished now felt meaningless, as things had become a bit more complicated this morning.
His eyes narrowed.
There—
Dedy. Standing a few meters behind Al, watching him.
Clearly not his usual behavior. Dedy was different from the other bodyguards—more respectful—but he wasn't the watchful type; he was an executor.
That was why he'd been seen more like a legend than a mere house guard.
But now he was acting oddly. Lingering in public areas, surveying and guarding, and appearing friendlier toward Al—when normally he was stiff.
David furrowed his brows. "Why is he out there?"
Beside him stood a man in all-black attire—David's personal shadow guard.
"Why is Dedy stationed near that orphan boy's room today?" David asked coldly. "Are you still able to monitor him?"
"I... don't know, Young Master. Dedy moved on his own since dawn. I don't yet know the reason. And… it will be difficult to keep watching the boy if Dedy stays near him."
"If you don't know, then find out. Right now!" he commanded.
"I don't wanna lose track of him just because of some shiny bald head."
The guard nodded and disappeared into the wall like a shadow blending into the air.
David stared into the distance. His expression hardened. There was a flicker of worry in his eyes.
Why did Dedy change… Is this Dad's order? Maybe last night's punishment made Dad put extra surveillance on him. Damn... I was so eager to see him suffer, I didn't think about this.
He could only lower his head and rub his forehead at the unexpected situation.
But not long after, a sharp smile flashed across his face.
He chose to bury those thoughts for now—because something big was about to happen today.
---
Al had just left the Virellano estate, heading to school.
A major event awaited him today—one that forced him to get up and leave earlier than usual.
He walked casually along the sidewalk, aiming for the nearest bus stop.
It was all because his status hadn't been made public yet.
And also, because of his own decision regarding that one-year bet.
After all, using a private car—let alone being chauffeured—didn't suit his 'normal' identity.
Minimizing any trace of attention or public curiosity was a must for someone like him—A cursed child, one who was, consciously or not, always under the watch of something far greater in this world.
"Or maybe I should just walk instead? It's not that far, and there's a lot to see in the morning streets. I haven't trained much lately either. I guess this could count as a little physical exercise." he murmured, deciding to walk instead of taking the bus or a taxi.
"Like a monk climbing thousands of temple steps, I'll train by walking thousands of steps to school. Hehe… interesting,"
As he went on, Al observed his surroundings. But something felt different today.
He noticed Dedy—not far behind him.
Keeping his distance. Yet clearly watching.
Like a bodyguard—but not quite.
Like a shadow—but too obvious.
Al glanced back for a moment.
He's really following me? Is he on duty now? Guess Father really did assign him this time, he thought.
He then looked around, hoping to spot the familiar figure of the previous stalker who often trailed him in secret—But today, that presence was gone.
Hmm… right. The usual one's not here anymore. Maybe… replaced? Or scared?
---
Hazandeen International High School – School Festival Day
Today was the beginning of April.
The final school term for senior students like Al.
And as tradition goes, Hazandeen International High School officially opened its School Festival week—an annual celebration featuring competitions in sports, arts, and science & technology.
For final-year students, this was their last School Festival.
Including Al.
Although he didn't care about it at all, Rina had forced him to come early last night.
"Get to school early tomorrow! I need you for prep. No excuses!"
Feeling a bit guilty (and too lazy to argue), Al actually showed up early.
He hadn't even had breakfast.
His stomach growled, his mouth yawned endlessly, but he still stepped into the schoolyard, which was starting to fill up.
The atmosphere today felt like a night market.
Colorful balloons, flags for each class waving proudly, booths being set up, and giant speakers blasting upbeat songs that only made Al want to sleep even more.
Small drones bearing the school's logo flew around, monitoring every corner.
The live footage was streamed directly to the teachers' lounge and the principal's office.
No minor violation went unnoticed.
As he passed through the gate, a headache started creeping in.
Hot, noisy, and… yeah, way too crowded.
"AL!! Change your clothes!" Rina shouted from afar, waving her hand while wearing a school sports jacket.
Al sighed deeply.
…This is why I hate joining events like this.
He made his way toward the locker room at the back of the school.
A quiet, peaceful place—usually free from interruptions.
Usually.
But not today.
As soon as he opened the locker room door—Jogo was already there.
Tall posture, broad shoulders, wrinkled sports uniform doing a poor job of hiding his muscular body.
A senior in the Hazandeen Martial Arts Club—a guy who thought everything could be solved with muscles and loud cheer squads.
Staring at Al with a sharp gaze whose meaning was unclear.
---
Today, Hazandeen felt like a night market.
Colorful balloons, class flags fluttering in the breeze, open tents, and giant speakers blasting high-energy music that only made Al want to fall asleep faster.
Small drones bearing the school's logo flew around, monitoring every corner.
The live footage was streamed directly to the teachers' lounge and the principal's office.
No minor violation went unnoticed.
The moment he stepped through the gate, Al's head started throbbing. Hot, crowded, and… yeah, way too many people.
"AL!! Go change your uniform!" Rina shouted from afar, waving while wearing a school sports jacket.
Al let out a long sigh.
"…This is exactly why I hate joining events like this."
He walked toward the locker room at the back of the school. A quiet place, peaceful, and (usually) free from disturbances.
Usually.
But not today.
As he opened the locker door—Jogo was already there.
Tall posture, broad shoulders, crumpled sports uniform that couldn't hide his muscular build.
A senior in Hazandeen's Martial Arts Club—the kind of guy who believed everything could be solved with brute force and loud cheers from his squad.
Jogo stepped closer.
One hand slammed into the locker right beside Al's head—BANG!—and his body leaned in aggressively, as if trying to threaten Al through sheer presence.
His sharp eyes glared directly at him.
"You hear me," he hissed. "Stay away from Rina."
Al stared back blankly. Eyes half-lidded, expression dead as ever.
"You think just because she asked for your help, you get to hang around her?" Jogo continued. "A poor kid like you has no place near her. Don't act like you're close."
Al stayed silent. He didn't react right away. Not because he didn't want to respond—but more because he was... confused.
What the hell is this all of a sudden?
He simply… raised one eyebrow slightly, then looked at Jogo's face and said,
"And you are?"
Jogo frowned. Annoyed. Not because his threat was defied—but because it felt like he wasn't being taken seriously at all.
"How could you not know who I am?" he growled.
"Am I supposed to?" Al replied calmly, completely unbothered by Jogo's anger.
Jogo faltered for a second. He hadn't expected that question. But Al's overly relaxed expression just made it worse—deeply irritating.
He clenched his fists, hard.
It itched. He wanted to throw a punch.
But he stopped. Took half a step back. Licked his lips in tension.
Before leaving, he whispered:
"You'll regret it if you cross me, brat. Especially if you get near my girl…"
And like a cheap drama villain, Jogo stomped away.
Leaving behind the stink of sweat, a bruised ego, and… a touch of disgust.
Al stood still.
Took a deep breath.
"…Just caught me off guard. I thought it was something serious," he muttered under his breath.
"So it's just another teenage romance issue…" He sighed softly.
"Why am I always dragged into the most meaningless parts of other people's lives?"
He opened his locker and pulled out his sports uniform.
"Still, that kid isn't half bad. Already in the mid stage of the Adept Level, Martial Artist Class. Quite an achievement for his age, though it still doesn't shine as brightly as that tomboyish girl."
Al slipped into his team jacket slowly, tilting his head slightly to the side.
"Oh right, if Rina has a fan that fierce and that powerful… why does she still insist on troubling me every single time?"
He slipped on his shoes, shaking his head slowly.
Problems kept showing up. But so far, none were worth taking seriously.
---
The opening ceremony of School Festival began exactly at 8 a.m.
All students stood in rows on the central field. But, as always, not everyone took it seriously.
Beneath the towering banyan tree that stood firmly at the corner of the field, a group of unruly and lazy students—what the guidance counselor mockingly referred to as the 'shadow team'—had gathered in peace.
Some lounged against the wide trunk, others idly traced meaningless lines across the dirt with brittle twigs. They laughed carelessly, as if the authority of teachers could never reach them.
It seemed that the behavior of students at this so-called elite academy was not all that different from those in ordinary schools when it came to these small displays of defiance—or perhaps, it was even worse, for these children held the weight of their family names as untouchable shields.
Naturally, Al was among them.
Lying back, hands behind his head, eyes gazing at the sky—like he was pondering the great mysteries of life.
Why does the school festival always have to start with heat and endless speeches? He complained inwardly.
It always begins right when the dry season hits, even though just last month it was still a pleasantly cool rainy season. And this school has so many indoor facilities too. Formalities are really such a pain.
The voice of the principal echoed through the speakers:
"Dear students of Hazandeen…"
And the long speech began.
Al almost dozed off.
Until…
"…and as an important announcement: next month, our school will receive a very special guest from the corporate world."
"The main sponsor and foundation holder of our academy—also the CEO of Alasia Group, Miss Aiza Hiruzen—will be visiting personally! I hope all of you, as promising young elites, make good use of this opportunity."
The crowd of students erupted with noise the moment they heard that name. Of course, excitement spread quickly—almost everyone knew who she was.
Some were genuinely hoping to build connections.
Others were simply curious about the woman's beauty that was constantly talked about online.
Even Al slightly turned his head at that.
His eyes blinked.
He sat up straighter, still silent—but clearly no longer sleepy.
Aiza Hiruzen...? Coming here...?
Rina—who had apparently snuck to the back row too—sat nearby. She looked over and playfully nudged Al's shoulder.
"Hey, dreaming of working at Alasia too?" she whispered. "Wait… aren't you an Alasia scholarship kid? Wow… does that mean you have a connection?"
Al glanced sideways for a moment, then looked back up at the sky.
"What kind of connection are you hoping to get from a scholarship student?" Al muttered lazily.
"Fair point," Rina replied.
Rina continued, full of excitement,
"I heard she's super young. Like, a Harvard freshman! Can you believe that? And they say her beauty's absurd. Even top international idols can't compare!"
Al turned slightly, his face looking a bit sour this time.
"What do you even mean by 'absurd beauty'? Do you think her face is some kind of illusion or her looks are all over the place?" he said.
"Hmm... don't exaggerate it. Beautiful people just have their own way of being beautiful," he added, half joking but with a strangely philosophical tone.
Rina chuckled.
"Ahaha, true that. By the way, have you ever seen her, Al? Wait—don't tell me you're one of those thousand scholarship kids who only get the funds but never set foot in Alasia's main building?"
"Seen her, huh? Hmm... how should I put it…" Al murmured quietly, thinking about how to phrase his words.
But Rina assumed the answer already.
"Hehe, of course you haven't. But rumor has it—if you see Miss Aiza in person, even a hardcore gay guy would instantly turn into a super masculine straight man. Haha." She said.
"By the way... aren't you at least a little interested like the others?" she teased, glancing at the other students—especially the boys.
Al also looked their way, watching them all lost in their daydreams. He couldn't help but laugh in amusement.
Rina joined in the laugh, raising her eyebrows playfully.
Meanwhile, the principal continued speaking, this time with a more formal tone.
"And this year's School Festival will be special. For the first time, we'll welcome guests from another elite school in a spirit of friendship: Makazhar Elite School."
Most of the students looked shocked, not expecting such an announcement. Some immediately cheered, others looked confused, and a few just yawned.
And then—
the main gate opened.
A group of teachers and students entered the field—walking in perfect formation, postures sharp and dignified.
They wore Makazhar uniforms: black and gold blazers with the school emblem on the chest. Their faces radiated confidence, like elites showing off their dominance.
And standing at the front…
David Virellano.
Tall. Neatly dressed. A face that could land on both business and teen fashion magazine covers.
His smile was faint. His demeanor calm.
And like magic, the entire female population of Hazandeen fell silent.
Some stared with sparkling eyes.
Others whispered in awe and excitement.
"That's David Virellano…"
"Real Virellano blood… rumored heir to the family!"
"OMG, a guy like that came to our school?!"
Rina glanced briefly at David, then looked back at Al.
The difference between them was like heaven and earth.
But oddly, Rina didn't react like the others.
She kept watching Al's face, which remained calm—almost… blank.
The difference between them wasn't as extreme as heaven and hell—but more like the sky and the earth. One wrapped in grace and luxury, the other grounded in simplicity.
Al isn't reacting? Does he not know who David is? Wait, doesn't Al live at the Virellano residence too?Is he embarrassed because he's just the servant's son? she wondered.
But truthfully, Al felt a bit uneasy.
The thought of last night's punishment—something that surely had to do with David and Nayala—came back to mind, irritating him all over again.
That liar… of all places, he had to show up here? Guess today's my unlucky day. Let's just hope he's not planning something stupid here. He sighed inwardly.
The crowd cheered louder as Makazhar students entered the field.
David Virellano, with his charming wave and soft smile, greeted the masses.
He knew how to be dazzling.
He knew how to be captivating.
And of course—
he knew who he needed to destroy.
Al.
His eyes swept across the corner of the field—until they landed squarely on his target. The very figure who had dared to provoke his wrath last night by attempting to strike him.
Al, lounging casually under the banyan tree in his sportswear. And beside him…
A tomboyish girl with tan skin from outdoor training and an athletic frame still growing. Her energy radiated through her posture, her laugh, even how she teased Al.
Rina.
David let out a soft hiss.
I cannot comprehend what kind of twisted luck that boy possesses. Just last night, he was punished. This very morning, Dedy is assigned to watch over him, perhaps even acting as his guard. He thought.
And now? He is sitting there, relaxed and carefree, flirting openly with that girl. What unbelievable fortune he has.
A faint spark of jealousy flickered in David's heart, though he quickly buried it beneath his well-trained control of expression.
To him, Al seemed blessed with luck, yet in Al's own perspective, every single one of those so-called fortunes was nothing more than a string of misfortunes
Under the tree, the mood had shifted—from lazy to sharp.
Rina, still curious, turned to Al and casually asked:
"Hey, don't you live at the Virellano estate? Yesterday, Vianna said you were like the servant's kid there. So you must know David, right?"
It was a simple question.
But not for Al.
Al, who had been silently holding back his irritation over David's sudden appearance, slowly turned his head.
Those half-closed eyes opened just a bit wider.
His gaze pierced—not violent, but enough to shift the air around them.
Rina instantly felt it.
In Al's eyes, his thoughts shifted—no longer about David, but about his parents instead.
Did she just say… servant?
Rina's words struck deep.
Even if Sandra and Edward Virellano weren't his real parents, calling him the son of a servant was the same as demeaning his true parents.
And considering who his real father and mother actually were—two figures of immense stature in this country—it made the insult sound even more absurd.
That emotion surfaced—one he still didn't fully understand; he didn't know why or how it appeared, but the sting and discomfort were real.
Al's lazy demeanor vanished.
Rina froze when she saw that sharp gaze.
She quickly looked down, panicking, her hands clutching Al's reflexively.
"Eh—I... I said something wrong, didn't I? I'm sorry, Al! I really am!"
Feeling that, Al slowly came back to his senses.
He took a deep breath and turned his gaze away, managing to suppress the emotion that had almost surged out. If he hadn't, Rina might've fainted right there.
"…It's not your fault," Al murmured.
"But for now, don't say anything about my parents."
Those irrational thoughts and unsettling emotions echoed once again within Al's mind.
Could the resonance of blood between parent and child truly cause his body to react in such a way, nullifying the effects of his magical barrier whenever his parents struck him? What exactly was this inexplicable phenomenon?
---
From afar, Jogo watched them.
Rina—gripping Al's hand.
Al—staring back at her.
And the scene—too close for comfort, burning the eyes of a possessive admirer.
Jogo's temple veins popped.
His jaw clenched tight.
"That poor brat dares…?"
"Just wait. I'll beat you bloody in the middle of the field. So everyone knows your place."
Elsewhere, David stood tall, still smiling at the crowd.
But his eyes… analyzed. Calculated. Searched for openings.
Hazandeen.
The number-one school in East Indorosia.
Fully sponsored by the Alasia Foundation — an organization under the Alasia Group, whose fame and fortune had already eclipsed even that of the Virellano Group.
Meanwhile, Makazhar Elite School stood as its rival.
Funded by David's family, created to train elite successors.
Yet still… under Alasia's shadow.
Hazandeen only held prestige because of Alasia's money.
And Al—a street rat living in their house—attending this school.
Disgraceful.
David slowly clenched his fist.
But this wasn't the time to fight.
It was still the opening ceremony.
Still the time for pleasantries.
Soon… he'll be crushed.
---
The principal spoke again.
"This year, our School Festival will include an exciting new twist: an inter-school competition!"
"Makazhar Elite School and Hazandeen International High School will go head-to-head in sports, martial arts, arts, and even science & tech!"
The crowd roared.
"A symbol of friendship… and a healthy battle to prove who's the best."
In the back, Al remained seated under the tree.
He stared at the sky for a moment.
"Friendship, huh…"
However, Al had no idea that the mastermind behind this sudden inter-school competition was none other than David—
a plan carefully made to target someone.
Someone David wanted to get rid of.
That someone... was Al himself.