Season 1 chapter 11
The Forest Exile
Malesh didn't walk; he stumbled violently through the treeline, his head thumping with a rhythmic, blinding rage. Every time he thought of his father's cold face or his mother's silence, his blood felt like it was actively boiling.
"Fucking hypocrites!" Malesh screamed, swinging his heavy suitcase in a wide arc and slamming it violently against the trunk of a massive oak tree. THUD.
He dropped the bag and began punching the tree trunk, his knuckles splitting and turning raw, but the physical pain was a welcome distraction from the massive void in his chest. He turned, aggressively kicking at the dirt, shaving off clumps of grass with his heels, tearing at the leaves until his hands were stained completely green.
"I did everything! I followed the goddamn protocol!" He grabbed a low-hanging branch and violently snapped it with a desperate yell. "And for what? To be tossed out like a piece of fucking trash?"
The adrenaline eventually burnt out completely, leaving him hollow. The freezing cold of the forest began to heavily seep through his torn school blazer. He found the small clearing—the secret base they had used to plan the heist. It wasn't a palace. It was just a hollowed-out spot under a rock overhang, lined with dry moss and old wooden crates.
He lay down on the hard, frozen ground, curling into a tight ball. He was shivering violently, his breath coming in white puffs in the moonlight.
"Fuck them," he whispered, his teeth chattering loudly. "Fuck the house. Fuck the family. I don't need any of it."
He closed his eyes, drifting into a restless, freezing sleep, entirely surrounded by the absolute silence of the trees and the smell of damp earth.
The Morning After
Malesh woke up before the sun was fully over the horizon. He felt like he had been repeatedly beaten with a heavy lead pipe. His joints were incredibly stiff, his skin was caked in a new layer of freezing forest grime, and his hair was a matted mess of twigs and dried mud.
He dragged himself to the riverbank. The water was ice-cold, sending a violent shock through his system as he splashed his face. He stripped off his ruined blazer and washed his torso, the freezing water completely numbing the heavy bruises on his ribs.
He opened the suitcase his father had packed. It wasn't much—mostly his notebooks, his expensive fountain pens, and his stationary. But there, tucked right at the bottom, was his one extra pack of clothes: a completely clean, perfectly pressed school uniform.
He stared at it for a long time. It was the only identity he had left.
He dressed slowly, meticulously. Even without a mirror, he straightened the collar and smoothed the fabric until it was flawless. He looked "professional" again, but his eyes were entirely different—bloodshot, dark, and incredibly dangerous.
"I need to find Kniya," Malesh muttered to the empty woods, adjusting his cuffs. "We need to formulate a business plan for what the fuck we do next."
He grabbed his bag and began the long trek out of the wilderness toward the city.
The School Gates
The morning air at the Seistain Private Academy was thick with a strange, heavily nervous energy. Usually, the main entrance was a place of loud gossip and laughing students, but today, it was eerily quiet. Groups of students stood in tight circles, aggressively whispering and pointing toward the main iron gate.
The "WANTED" posters were completely gone from the brick walls, but the memory of the massive military hunt was permanently etched into everyone's brain.
Then, the crowd suddenly parted.
Malesh walked straight through the gates. He looked incredibly sharp, his uniform perfect, but the way he walked was entirely different. Every head turned. The whispers died down instantly.
He didn't look at anyone. He didn't acknowledge the terrified stares. He walked straight to the stone bench near the fountain where they always met, his deadpan eyes locked on the horizon, waiting for the one person who knew exactly what kind of hell they had just walked through.
The Reunion
The morning air at the Seistain Private Academy was thick with a heavy, deeply uncomfortable tension. As Kniya and Malesh walked through the towering wrought-iron gates, the usual loud gossip and laughter of the elite students instantly died.
The students didn't step back out of fear; they stepped away in absolute, undisguised disgust. To the spoiled heirs and daughters of the city's billionaires, Kniya and Malesh were no longer just classmates. They were criminals. They were the absolute wrong sort of people—delinquents who brought military tanks, gunfire, and dirty scandals right to the doorsteps of the wealthy neighborhoods. Whispers spread like poison as the crowd actively parted, treating the two boys like they were carrying a highly contagious disease.
Kniya didn't care in the slightest. He casually popped a fresh piece of mint gum into his mouth, his hands tucked deep into his pockets as he strolled through the hostile crowd.
He glanced over at Malesh. Malesh looked physically clean, his spare uniform perfectly pressed and his tie knotted flawlessly, but there was a heavy, exhausted darkness behind his eyes.
"Look at these stuck-up idiots," Kniya smirked, loudly popping a bubble to intentionally annoy a passing senior. "They are looking at us like we just crawled out of a chemical sewer."
"Technically, we did literally crawl out of a chemical sewer just a few hours ago," Malesh stated flatly, adjusting his cuffs as they walked toward the stone fountain. "But their social reaction is highly logical. We are public pariahs now. Associating with us is a severe social liability."
"Whatever, bro," Kniya laughed, throwing his arm over Malesh's shoulder despite the stares. "Let them act like snobs. They don't know we basically own the military now. Come on, let's go pretend to care about geometry."
The Forest Revelation
When the midday recess bell finally rang, the two boys completely skipped the grand cafeteria. They headed straight for the blind spot behind the academy's massive gymnasium, a narrow concrete alley where the loud hissing of the industrial steam pipes completely drowned out their conversation from any spying teachers.
Kniya leaned against the red brick wall, shaking his head and letting out a heavy sigh.
"Bro, you have no idea how annoying my morning was," Kniya groaned, crossing his arms and popping a piece of mint gum into his mouth. "My parents gave me a brutal, three-hour lecture on 'proper aristocratic behavior.' They didn't even ask if I was shot! My dad just paced around the room yelling about the Anderson name and how I need to behave like a civilized heir instead of a slum rat. It was a complete nightmare."
Malesh looked down at the concrete floor. He kicked a small pebble with his polished shoe, his expression dropping into something fragile and hollow.
"My parents did not give me a lecture on how to behave, Kniya," Malesh said quietly, his voice lacking its usual robotic confidence. "They formally evicted me. They threw me out of the house. I slept in the dirt in the forest last night."
Kniya stared at him for a second. Then, a massive, arrogant grin broke across Kniya's bruised face, and he started laughing hysterically.
"Are you fucking joking right now?!" Kniya cackled, holding his stomach and leaning against the wall. "You? The guy who literally irons his socks and calculates his calorie intake? You slept in the mud like a stray dog? Bro, that is the funniest shit I have heard all day. Did you calculate the physics of a pile of leaves.
The Discarded Asset
Malesh didn't laugh. He just stood there, looking completely defeated.
"I am not joking, Kniya," Malesh whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "I am completely serious."
Kniya's laughter immediately died in his throat. The smile vanished from his face as he looked closely at Malesh's eyes. They were red-rimmed and heavily shadowed.
"Wait... you are actually serious?" Kniya asked, his voice dropping into a low, completely serious tone. "They actually kicked you out? Just like that?"
Malesh nodded slowly, staring at his shaking hands. "My father pushed a leather suitcase across his desk. It had a few changes of clothes and a small stack of cash. He said I was a corporate liability. He told the servants to bar the doors behind me."
Kniya frowned, his mind actively processing the information. "Wait a minute. Did your father offer you an apartment, or just toss you into the street?"
"He offered me a small apartment in the West District," Malesh replied flatly, his voice bitter. "But the lease is entirely in his name, not mine. The condition was clear: go live there, stay out of the public eye, and never come back to the estate. I am a stain on their professional image."
Kniya felt a sudden, heavy knot form in his chest. He scratched the back of his neck, looking at his friend.
"Bro, hold on," Kniya said, leaning forward. "They might have a completely different reason for it. I mean, they are rich, heartless snobs, sure, but why would someone just completely abandon their own kid after the problem was already fixed? The military dropped the charges. Klove is backing off. Maybe they are moving you to the West District so Klove's interrogators don't target the main house? Maybe they think it keeps you safe entirely off the grid?"
Malesh let out a jagged, cold laugh.
"Your optimism is mathematically flawed, Kniya," Malesh snapped, adjusting his cuffs with trembling fingers. "The motivation does not change the outcome. A discarded asset is a discarded asset. They didn't look at me with concern; they looked at me with absolute disgust. If I take that apartment, I am still on their corporate leash. I am just a hidden liability they can control. I refused to go to the apartment. I'd rather sleep in the dirt."