Alden let out a big yawn as he stood at the edge of the conference hall, doing what he called "networking with thin air."
After all, nobody really tried talking to him.
He had hidden most of his power, partly because he didn't care and partly to avoid the "He seems strong, I shall fight him!" kind of cliché.
He already had enough people wanting him dead. He didn't need to add more overconfident young masters to that list.
But there was one small problem.
His clothes.
While most of the students wore their neat academy uniforms, Alden had strolled in wearing a plain black tee and jeans.
In his defence, the message hadn't mentioned anything about a dress code.
Still… he hoped—no, prayed—that the universe would show mercy this once.
That no young master would decide to make a scene just because he hadn't worn formal clothes.
But, as they say, the universe can never truly love anyone.
