Al strolled casually along the sidewalks of Makazhar City, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.
Though he didn't know every turn or alley in this part of town, he could still feel the lines of magical energy woven into the streets. Every building, pedestrian—even the birds perched on power lines—left traces of their own magical presence.
But one stood out.
Since stepping out of the house, he had sensed a faint aura following him. The distance remained consistent, the steps were silent, and more importantly—there was no killing intent. It was the same aura as the ones who had been tailing him last night.
Another spy? A professional this time?
Al slowed his pace.
"Huff… another pain to deal with," he muttered under his breath, slightly annoyed.
He sharpened his senses—visual, olfactory, and especially… magical resonance.
The person was two buildings behind him, positioned on the rooftop of an electronics store. Not approaching—just watching.
Definitely someone from the family. Maybe one of Father's men keeping tabs on me, Al thought.
Since there was no certainty and no threat intent, Al had no reason to obliterate or spook the stalker. Still, being watched rubbed him the wrong way.
A small smile curved on his lips. He moved two fingers inside his hoodie pocket, tracing a faint sigil before casting a minor spell.
Skill: Perspective Manipulation
A subtle, small magic circle appeared at his fingertip—almost invisible. A light illusion spell activated, one so faint most wouldn't even detect it. It warped perception ever so slightly, cloaking Al from the spy's field of view.
---
From the rooftop, a figure clad in black with a thin mask watched silently as the target stopped at a traffic light.
Morning traffic was picking up—office workers, students, street vendors—all blending into the crosswalk crowd.
His target, the young man named Al, stood there with a blank expression.
The light turned green.
Hundreds crossed the street.
Then—Al vanished.
"?!"
The observer leaned forward in shock. The boy was just there—no sound, no blur. Gone.
"Where did he go?!" he hissed.
His eyes darted through the crowd.
Nothing.
Panic surged through him. He jumped down from the rooftop, landing in a narrow alley, then melted into the shadows of nearby storefronts and utility poles. His body seemed to disappear into the darkness itself.
He scanned a radius of 300 meters, then 500. No trace. No disturbance. No one suspicious. Magic? Impossible. He assumed Al had no magical energy.
Anxiety climbed higher. He racked his brain—considered the nearby school zones, and remembered the nearby international academy. But he shook his head.
"No way… there's no way he could've entered that school. The tuition alone is insane—and look at how he dresses…" he muttered, frustrated.
But reality hit hard. He had lost the target.
Grinding his teeth, he muttered,
"Damn it. If Young Master David hears about this, I'm—"
Turns out, the shadow was one of David's men—sent to keep tabs on Al.
---
Elsewhere, behind the tall gates of Hazandeen International High School, Al stood with a satisfied smirk.
"Maybe I should file a complaint to Father about this surveillance nonsense. It's way more fun to just vanish from under their noses," he said, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder.
He still suspected the stalker was someone his father sent.
That aura was now far off—frantically searching in the wrong direction.
Stretching his arms, Al looked up at the clear blue sky.
"Well then... time to play the good student."
His steps were light. As if nothing had happened.
The grand gates of black metal and bronze slowly opened as Al walked through. This wasn't just any school.
This was Hazandeen International High School, a place where the elite and brilliant were groomed to be future leaders—not just of Indorosia, but the world.
The school operated directly under the Alasia Indorosia Foundation, a branch of the global Alasia Foundation, a philanthropic arm of Alasia Group, the third-highest valued conglomerate in the world, based in the Unistated of Ameria.
At the main gate, a security guard munching on a sandwich froze mid-bite when he saw Al.
"Huh? Al?"
Al turned, offering a relaxed smile.
"Morning, Mister Security."
The guard set his sandwich down and stood up stiffly.
"You're... not a morning class student, right? What are you doing here this early?"
Al paused. His eyes flicked toward the sky as he scratched his head.
"Uh, well… let's just say I wanted to see the lovely girls who attend the morning classes. Hahaha."
He forced a grin, clearly improvising a poor excuse. "Nice weather, isn't it? Anyway, I'll be going ahead."
The guard stared at him with a confused—and slightly disturbed—expression, while Al turned around and waved casually, as if he hadn't just said something inappropriate.
---
Inside the school grounds, beyond a small, rarely visited garden shaded by a tall tree, Al stood alone.
He scanned the area, ensuring no eyes were watching. Not even CCTV.
Then, raising his right hand, he spoke in a flat tone:
"Gather."
As if summoned, two men stepped out of thin air—concealed by minor illusions.
They looked young—probably in their twenties or thirties.
One wore a full school security uniform. The other, a formal suit—looking like a teacher or academic staff member.
They bowed deeply.
"Master," they said in unison.
Al sighed and asked,
"Were you two spying on me again?"
The suited man replied,
"Apologies, Master. We acted because of a suspicious figure tailing you. He lost your trail at the crosswalk. He's currently combing the city area. Identity still unknown, but we've seen him lurking since you left your house."
The security guard added,
"He displayed no killing intent, but his movements suggest assassin-level training. Possibly a spy. Shall we eliminate him?"
Al shook his head.
"No need. Just watch and confirm his identity. He might be someone sent by my father," Al replied lazily. "Also—please. You know I hate being watched. Keep your distance. Focus on your jobs here at school."
His tone grew sharper.
The two men exchanged glances, but said nothing.
Al gave a crooked smile and waved them off.
"No need to overthink. Just move when I give the word."
They bowed low once again.
"Yes, Master."
"Good," Al let out a relieved sigh. "Oh, right. I happen to have something to ask you." His tone flattened slightly this time.
"What is it, Master?" asked the one in the teacher-like uniform.
"Hm... do you two know anything about the data restriction placed on me by the Ministry and the Foundation?" he asked calmly.
"I can understand the Ministry's involvement—it's obviously about the records of the cursed children. But the Foundation?"
"Ah... that..." The man in the teacher's uniform looked awkward. "Forgive us, Master. We haven't had the chance to inform you about that matter."
"Huff... as usual... you people always delay telling me things you don't find important. Haah... So? What's going on this time?" Al sighed in mild annoyance.
The man in the security uniform let out a nervous chuckle, while the other could only lower his head in discomfort. The guard finally spoke up,
"You might've already guessed it, Master."
"Those troublesome girls?" Al asked flatly.
Both men nodded—the guard quickly, while the teacher nodded firmly but with grace.
"Hmph... I figured as much. So, why did they do it?" Al asked, resting his chin on his fingers.
"It seems they wanted to make sure your data stayed safe," the man in the teacher's uniform explained. "Especially with your sudden return to the Virellano family. They're still not fully convinced everything will go smoothly there."
Al nodded slightly, trying to understand, as the man continued,
"You also know, Master—the Virellanos are a massive family, even on an international scale. We still have trouble getting any detailed information about them. We can't really tell what goes on inside, or how they operate behind the scenes. The possibility of your... unique existence being exposed would only increase."
Al processed the explanation for a few seconds before responding,
"Ah, I see. I guess they're just overthinking it. Leaving only my name and physical description in the system... that actually makes me more suspicious. Haah..." he muttered with a helpless sigh.
He then looked at the two men casually,
"Alright then. If that's the case, you can both go back to your duties."
Both men gave a light nod before taking their leave.
Like mist in the wind, the two vanished—no sound, no trace, not even a lingering aura.
Al stood still for a moment, staring at the spot they'd just occupied.
He exhaled slowly, as if carrying the weight of the world in that single breath.
"Huaam... Mornings are way too much trouble for me."
He turned and walked toward the school building.
But just as he took a step—
GRAAARR—GRAAARR!!
Al's phone exploded with its thunderous ringtone, like a fire alarm piercing the peaceful morning.
"Oh, what a coincidence. We were just talking about them," Al murmured casually. "And one of them just called."
But his expression darkened almost instantly.
"Hmm... why do I have a bad feeling about this? Should I even answer it?"
After thinking for a moment, Al finally picked up the phone. His hand trembled slightly, and his usually composed face looked a shade paler than usual.
"...Hello?"
He barely spoke when—
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'LOOKING AT LOVELY GIRLS'?! DO YOU WANT ME TO CUT YOUR HEAD OFF?! SHOULD I—"
Click.
The ever-calm Al flinched like a kid caught cheating on a test. He immediately hung up and turned off his phone.
Silence.
He froze, then rubbed his forehead and sighed heavily.
"Huff... I knew it. Answering that call was a mistake. She really... almost gave me a heart attack..."
Not long after, his face returned to normal—mostly—but a small trace of trauma remained as he walked away toward the cafeteria.
---
Elsewhere, inside a hyper-modern office tower, floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a breathtaking view of the city. A tall tower loomed nearby, its silhouette sharp against the skyline.
A woman stood by the glass. Her hair flowed down her back like a battle banner, her posture regal—like a queen of the battlefield.
Her face was shadowed, her back to the camera. Only the silhouette of her slender figure in a violet dress could be seen. A dark magical energy pulsed faintly around her, causing even passing staff outside her door to feel nauseous.
Her hand clenched her now-silent phone.
"He. Hung. Up. On. Me?"
Her voice shook the ceiling lamp. She turned—revealing only a chilling smile.
"Just wait, Al. When I show up... I'll make sure you won't even look at another girl again."
Not long after, the sadistic look on her face softened into a blooming smile.
She reached for a sleek, high-tech tablet on the table beside her and activated it.
"Fortunately, I still have this. Haha... You can't escape my sight, Al," she said, sounding almost gleeful.
On the screen appeared a live feed of Al at school—walking lazily down the hallway, his usual bored expression painted perfectly across his face.
The woman couldn't help but giggle at the sight.
---
Back at school, along the corridor leading to the cafeteria, Al's steps were unhurried yet calm. His eyes looked slightly drowsy, as usual. His only goal now was simple: a sweet snack and a soft cafeteria chair for a quick nap.
But he suddenly stopped. His gaze turned distant, scanning the area. Something felt... off. Almost unnaturally so.
He activated his magical detection for a brief moment, yet sensed nothing unusual.
"Was it just my imagination?" he murmured.
Deciding not to dwell on it, he resumed walking. There was still plenty of time before his afternoon class. And right now, morning naps were his ultimate dream.
But fate had other plans. Ever since returning to the Virellano estate, petty yet annoying problems seemed to stack up. It was like coming back had raised his misfortune stat through the roof.
And now—three silhouettes stood at the end of the hallway, blocking his path. They wore full school uniforms, modified for swagger: loose ties, jackets draped over shoulders, and shiny limited-edition shoes.
The first—massive, nearly two meters tall. Thick with muscle and fat. His arms were crossed, his face blank. The team's silent enforcer.
The second—tall and thin, glasses, with a sneering grin. His lips never stopped moving, and his eyes flicked around nervously. The schemer—not smart, but cowardly and sly.
The third—their leader. Rudi Norvalien, third-generation heir of the Norvalien family, one of the top ten richest in Indorosia.
Handsome face, slicked-back hair, flawless skin—like a fashion ad. But his eyes were full of disgust as he looked at Al. He believed only the elite should mingle with the elite.
To him, Al's very presence was a stain on his ideal perfect world. His hands were in his pockets, body slouched lazily—like Al wasn't even worth his energy.
He spoke first.
"Well, well… I thought you only crawled out at night. Didn't expect to see you this early."
The thin one chuckled.
"Maybe he's hungry. Orphan kids drool over expensive food, after all. Hahaha."
The big one simply glared like a hungry tiger waiting for a command.
Al stopped. Gave them a blank stare. Said nothing.
"You think that cheap scholarship makes you equal to us?" Rudi's voice sharpened. "You're a stain. The only reason you're here is because we're too kind to kick you out."
Al simply shook his head.
Then, out of nowhere, he reached into his pocket—somehow pulling out a slip of paper and a pen as if by magic. He scribbled something down and handed it to the three in front of him.
The skinny one took it, and the others leaned in to see what was written.
It was Al's signature—followed by a short motivational line underneath: "If they can do it, why should I?"
The three stared blankly at the absurd sight. Rudi snatched the paper, tore it to pieces, and threw it to the ground in anger.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, huh?!" he shouted.
"Hm? I thought you guys were fans of mine," Al replied casually. "So I gave you an autograph. Isn't that what fans usually want?"
"Huh?! Are you drunk or something? Who the hell would be your fan?!" Rudi barked back, his face flushing red.
"Huh? Then why are you crowding around me?" Al tilted his head lazily. "Your class should be starting soon, yet you'd rather come see me."
The three froze, speechless, their bodies instinctively leaning back with mouths slightly agape.
"Wow... you guys really went through a lot just to see me. Skipping class too? That's some serious dedication," Al added with mock amazement, covering his mouth dramatically as his eyes gleamed playfully.
"Tch!" Rudi spat on the ground. "Keep dreaming! I think there's something wrong with your brain! You seriously don't get that we hate you?!"
Al just smiled faintly, almost pitying.
"Haha... you guys really don't know how to take a joke," he said, stretching his arms slightly. "Whatever. If you don't like me, then stop bothering me. Go do something productive instead."
He turned away, clearly done with the conversation.
The trio looked furious, but Al simply walked on, ignoring their glares as if they were background noise.
"Hey! What did you just say?!"
The big one stepped forward, his massive hand swinging toward Al's shoulder—
—but—
Whoosh!
In less than a heartbeat, Al's figure blurred. His body seemed to vanish from where he stood, reappearing two steps ahead.
The large man, unable to stop his own momentum, slipped and crashed straight into a trash bin.
BANG!
"Arghhhh!" he howled in pain.
The other two froze in shock.
Al turned slightly, glancing back with a calm, almost bored expression.
"I think you should go on a diet. Your balance is awful," he said dryly, before turning away again.
But Rudi stepped forward, blocking his path.
"You bastard!" he screamed, rage filling his eyes as he clenched his fist tight, ready to strike—
—but before his punch could land—
"Enough!"
A calm yet firm voice echoed down the hall.
A new student appeared. Idham Tamarvich.
Young, black slicked-back hair, perfect posture. His uniform was textbook-perfect. A gold-white school badge gleamed on his chest.
A descendant of the Tamarvich family—also one of the top ten in Indorosia, and a partner of the Alasia Indorosia Foundation.
He looked over the three troublemakers.
"Remember the rules. No violence on school grounds. Whatever your personal issues—handle it elsewhere."
The thin one tried to protest.
"But he—"
"No buts," Idham cut in coldly.
He stepped closer. His aura pressed into the hallway.
"If you have a problem with him, bring it up in the official forum. Or report to me. Don't act like thugs."
The trio fell silent.
Rudi clicked his tongue.
"Don't act all noble, Tamarvich. You don't like him here either," he spat.
Idham said nothing. The tension rose further as other students began watching.
In the end, Rudi turned away, muttering curses as they walked off.
Ptui!
"Damn poor coward."
After they vanished, Idham turned to Al.
Their eyes met. No words exchanged.
Al gave a small nod.
"Thanks," he said calmly.
Then turned and walked away.
As his figure disappeared down the corridor, Idham's jaw tightened.
"Tch... Cheap scholarship trash. Too bad I can't touch him freely…"
---