The clock struck four in the afternoon. The dismissal bell had just rung.
Al stood up sluggishly from his seat, stretching with a small yawn. He packed his things at an unhurried pace, like someone with absolutely no plans for the rest of the day—because he truly had none.
Then, suddenly, he turned to the boy next to him. Neat appearance, calm face—the kind of kid you'd expect from an upper-class family.
"Hey, mind if I ask you something?" Al said out of the blue. "Do rich kids always go straight home after school?"
His friend, who was in the middle of organizing his books, turned with a confused expression, like, wait what?
"Huh? What do you mean?" he asked, bewildered by the random question.
"I mean, like… is it a rule for rich kids to head straight home once class is over?"
Still confused, the boy answered anyway.
"Uh... usually, yeah. At least in my family, everything's scheduled. Every activity has to be efficient and safe."
Al raised an eyebrow. "But... I'm asking about rich people. Not you." he said half-jokingly
His friend's face darkened. He fell silent immediately.
Al chuckled lightly—
Then... panicked.
"Whaaaat?! That means I'm supposed to go home?!"
He snatched his bag, shoved his chair aside, and bolted out of the classroom like he was being chased by a debt collector.
His friend was left staring blankly.
"...Huh?!"
But then—
A few seconds later, Al's head popped back in from the doorway.
"Thanks, bro!"
"Waaahh!" His friend jumped in shock.
"Wait, YOU'RE rich?! ...What a weirdo," he muttered under his breath.
---
Meanwhile, at the very top of a tall building not far from the Hazandeen International High School complex, two figures stood silently, gazing down upon the bustling city of Makazhar that was beginning to grow lively again as the late afternoon unfolded.
Both of them wore dark brownish cloaks with deep hoods pulled low, their faces concealed beneath heavy shadows. The evening wind blew strongly across the rooftop, tugging at the edges of their cloaks and making the fabric whip in the air, giving an even more mysterious impression to their presence.
One of the figures seemed to freeze in place, caught off guard the moment his eyes fell upon Al, who had just stepped out from the school gates. Hidden beneath the hood, his eyes widened slightly, and his breathing hitched for the briefest second.
"What is it?" the other figure asked, noticing how his companion's attention was locked entirely on Al.
"That boy…?" the figure murmured, his low voice carrying a faint tremor, as if suppressing an emotion he did not want to show.
"Hmm." The other one shifted her gaze toward Al as well. "Do you know that boy?" she asked, her tone laced with a hint of puzzlement.
After staring intently for a moment, the first figure slowly shook his head.
"No. I only thought he looked familiar. But perhaps I was mistaken," he replied calmly.
"I didn't know you had the habit of rambling on a bright day like this. Haha." The other spoke with a mocking undertone as she pulled back her hood. Her laugh was light, but her eyes were sharp, scrutinizing. "Still, that kid is kind of cute."
Revealed beneath the hood was the face of a woman who appeared mature, her long hair cascading down in strands of black and silver. A dark line marked her right cheek, stretching from beneath her eye all the way down to her chin. Her sharp gaze carried weight, yet the faint smile curving her lips made her appear all the more dangerous.
"Stop joking around. Our mission matters far more than toying with some useless boy," the other figure said sternly as he removed his hood as well. His face was that of a grown man with medium-length hair, colored with shades of dark brown and black. Two black lines extended from beneath his right eye down to his chin. His expression was rigid, like stone carved without the slightest hint of laughter.
"Relax. Relax. Those artifacts aren't going anywhere. We'll find them sooner or later," the woman replied in a playful tone, folding her arms across her chest while casting a casual glance at the sprawling city below.
"Be serious!" the man barked, his voice echoing sharply, filling the rooftop with a sudden silence.
"Ugh… you really can't take a single joke, can you?" the woman complained, pulling out a white talisman inscribed with ancient runes from within her cloak. Her fingers were delicate, but her movements were swift and precise, the kind of motion that could only come from long practice with such rituals.
Their eyes met, and in that fleeting moment, they seemed to understand each other perfectly—sparks of silent comprehension flashing in their gaze.
"Sir Fahruk will handle this area. Our next target is…" the man said as he revealed a similar white talisman. He stared at it with an expression as though he were looking at a map leading straight into hell. "…that place."
Then—
WOSHHHH!
A surge of thick black smoke erupted from the talisman, dense yet cutting, enveloping them both. The smoke twisted violently, swirling into a vortex like the jaws of darkness ready to devour everything in its path. Within its rotation, faint whispers echoed—like the fragmented cries of a thousand restless souls.
The two figures exchanged faint smiles as they pulled their hoods back on. The smoke swallowed their bodies completely, and in the next instant, they were gone.
Only a torn fragment of the talisman, nearly burned to ashes, was left behind. The piece drifted slowly through the air, carried away by the evening wind, as though it were the sole silent witness to their departure.
---
Despite his supposed urgency, Al strolled casually along the sidewalk on his way home. A cool afternoon breeze brushed his face as he took in the orange sky above. His steps were slow, as though his thoughts were wandering farther than his feet could take him. His mind was still occupied—thinking about how to integrate into his new family. Or rather, his real family, which he had only just discovered.
Truth be told, he didn't care much about being late or getting scolded like his friend mentioned. But there was still a vague purpose lingering in his head—becoming part of a family, learning what it meant to have real parents. Something he had never experienced in his life.
Even though the beginning hadn't been smooth, he figured that was normal for a first attempt.
And for now, he had a mission: to show good behavior.
Not everything had to be about doing whatever you want, then conflict happens, people walk away, and suddenly it's all about revenge. Sometimes, things just required a little patience—and a clear goal. Maybe the good things in life just needed time to show themselves.
But... once time and chances had been given, and things still didn't change—or got worse—that would be his cue to walk away.
Before he could think more, a sound cut in:
"Meooow... Meow..."
The mewing of a kitten—coming from somewhere nearby.
People heard it, but no one seemed to care.
And of course, Al—the one who supposedly hated troublesome stuff—was the one to get involved.
His eyes briefly glowed as he scanned the area, reading the surrounding aura and energy.
A faint energy signal was coming from inside a large roadside drain.
Its energy is fading... It'll die if I don't help it soon, he thought.
But he couldn't use magic openly in public—it would cause a scene.
So, Al crouched down, opened the drain cover with raw strength, squeezed himself halfway in, and managed to reach a tiny, trembling kitten—dirty and soaked.
Filthy water splashed onto his clothes, soaking him completely. His face was stained, and that unmistakable sewer stench began to cling to him.
Ugh... smells awful... I'll clean up with magic later in a quiet place, he muttered mentally.
He sat at the edge of the sidewalk, drying the kitten with his already-soiled uniform. His expression was bored and a bit indifferent, even as passing pedestrians gave him strange, disgusted looks.
"They're good people, really," he said quietly, as if comforting the kitten—but actually trying to calm his own embarrassment.
Suddenly, a soft voice spoke behind him.
"You're a kind one, aren't you?"
Al turned.
A young woman was standing there, smiling warmly.
She looked about twenty-ish, with long brown hair tied in an elegant braid, wearing a stylish blazer. Her beauty was the classy, cover-model type—undeniably A-tier.
"It's rare these days to see someone willing to get that dirty just to help a small animal," she said, clearly impressed.
Al stayed silent, still drying the kitten—and subtly infusing it with a bit of healing energy.
The woman smiled again.
"I'm Clara. What's your name?"
Al wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Al," he replied simply.
Then, he gently handed the kitten to her.
"Could you... um... take it to a vet or animal rescue? I'm kind of in a hurry," he said, voice a bit shaky.
"Oh? What's the rush?" Clara asked, curious.
"I'm from a rich family," Al replied, dead serious. "And my friend said rich families hate it when their kids come home late."
Clara stared at him—covered in grime, reeking of sewer, with dirt smudges all over his face and uniform.
"...Pfft—Haha!" Clara burst out laughing. "You're calling yourself a rich kid looking like that?"
Al frowned.
"Do I look like a poor one to you?"
Clara chuckled and shook her head, gently accepting the kitten.
"Well, I'm heading out too. Want a ride? Where's your house?"
Al hesitated.
"Ah... no thanks, ma'am. I'm filthy."
But before he could escape—
Clara grabbed his wrist and pulled him into her car.
Honestly, she was a bit reluctant because of the smell—but something about his sincere expression and unexpected kindness stirred a strong sympathy in her.
Reflexively, Al tried to pull away.
His eyes briefly glowed again as he scanned Clara's aura—checking whether she had any harmful intentions.
Thankfully, her aura was positive.
However, amidst her natural energy flow, he noticed something odd.
A small green light—glowing faintly in the center of her chest.
That light... What is it? I've never seen an energy like that before... he thought, narrowing his eyes.
But he said nothing.
The car began to move.
Al sat beside Clara, trying his best not to look her way. He considered using a body-cleaning spell—but Clara was sitting way too close. He held back.
Eventually, they arrived at a luxurious residential area—the Virellano family estate. Al, still covered in dirt and stink, had arrived in style.
Clara blinked in surprise.
Wait... Isn't this the Virellano estate? Isn't their son named David Virellano? Is Al lying? But why would he lie? Maybe he's a servant's kid? But... that uniform is from Hazandeen Academy. Could he be adopted? Hmm... Her mind raced with suspicion.
"That gate up ahead, ma'am," Al said, pointing to the front gate.
Clara stared at him silently.
The sleek black car rolled to a slow stop before the grand, European-style entrance.
Al stepped out first, standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, giving her a small nod.
"Thanks, Miss Clara."
Clara leaned forward from the window, still smiling.
"Go on in first. Then I'll leave."
Al raised an eyebrow.
"Huh? Why? You can go ahead."
Clara answered gently,
"I just want to make sure you get in safe. I'm older than you, so it's only natural for me to check."
Al grinned stiffly.
"Sorry, but it feels rude to leave a guest waiting at the gate. Let's be fair—I'll wait for you to go first."
And so, a light standoff began.
"But—"
"But you see—"
"Go inside."
"You leave first."
"Go in."
"Meowww."
"....."
The two went back and forth. Clara was half-irritated, Al was half-lazy.
At last—
"Huff, fine! I'll go in!" Al huffed, half-frustrated.
He trudged slowly down the stone path cutting through the beautiful garden toward the main Virellano house. But the whole time, he kept glancing back.
Every few steps, he turned and waved—awkward and stiff. Like a kindergartener being dropped off at school.
Clara smiled. Then chuckled softly to herself, nodding in quiet amusement as she confirmed the truth.
"He really does live here..." she whispered.
"I don't know what his connection to the Virellano family is... but one thing's certain—he's an interesting kid."
Her car slowly rolled away from the gate.
Little did Al know...
The final step he took that day would mark the beginning of a brand new chaos.
---