Morning arrived.
The room was still dim. The tall, curtainless windows failed to block the early sunlight that began to pour into the small space.
On the side of the room—which looked more like an abandoned storage space than a bedroom—a faint snoring echoed softly through the dimensional space.
Inside, Al, the ever-lazy young man, lay sprawled on his oversized bed.
His hair was a mess, one cheek squished against his palm that seemed to be replacing the job of his pillow, while one of his legs had gone completely numb thanks to his ridiculous sleeping posture.
Calm.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
GRAAARR—GRAAARR!!
The thunder-like ringtone burst out from a black phone lying outside the dimensional room. He'd deliberately left it there—after all, signals couldn't penetrate the dimensional barrier.
Still, the vibration's echo reached inside, just enough to ruin the calm.
"Ugh… that ringtone," he muttered.
"Huff… I've only been asleep for two hours. Don't they get it?"
With sluggish movements, he crawled out of the dimensional room and reached for the phone. The instant he grabbed it, whatever drowsiness he had left evaporated like mist under a storm.
That ringtone wasn't for just anyone.
Only the most important people had been assigned that tone—people so underground, even the underworld didn't recognize them unless they needed to know.
"Hello…" Al said, his tone slightly annoyed.
But the moment a voice answered from the other end, that annoyance quietly shifted into something else—something closer to respect.
"Oh? I didn't know my little brother had grown bold enough to speak to me in that tone."
It was a woman's voice—mature, elegant, and naturally commanding, every word carrying quiet authority.
"Little brother?" Al muttered.
Slightly startled, he glanced at his phone screen, checking the name displayed before responding.
"Hey—don't tell me you've already forgotten me just because you reunited with your biological family!" the woman snapped playfully.
"Ah… so it's you, big sister," Al replied. "There's no way I'd forget you. But this is her phone—why didn't you call me with your own? Where is she?"
"Oh, by the way…" Al added quickly, "I almost yelled at you earlier. It's still really early here. I hope you understand, big sis. Sorry about that. Hehe."
"Hmph. Same as always. No one can bother you when you're eating or sleeping," the woman replied. "About that… I kind of forgot about the time difference. It's still 6 p.m. here in Neo Jersey, haha."
"…Also, my phone is on the other side of the bed. I was too lazy to grab it, so I used hers. She's taking a shower. I'm staying over tonight."
"I see. Got it, big sis," Al said calmly. "So… what business do you have calling me this time?"
"It's about… the agreement you made a year ago," big sis replied.
"The agreement from a year ago?" Al asked, half-remembering.
"Yep. The bet with Gama—the fight that decides who rules the underground in Burunai Country. Don't tell me you forgot?"
Al rubbed his chin, thinking.
"Gama… Gama… hmm?" he muttered. Then his eyes lit up. "Oh—right! The guy with the pointy ass, right?"
"Haha, that's him," big sis laughed. "I'm surprised you remember."
Al chuckled. "Hehe… so when is it?"
"Next month. There'll be an international martial arts tournament in Burunei—B, C, and D-class fighters. After the final match, your fight will begin," big sis explained.
"So it's still next month…" Al muttered. "Huff… honestly, I'm pretty lazy when it comes to stuff like that. But a deal is a deal. I'll come—and I'll win that territory for you."
"Good. You must win. We need influence in that wealthy country," big sis said firmly.
Al nodded even though she couldn't see him, cleared his throat, and the conversation drifted into light chatter. No more important information followed.
Then—
"Sis… are you talking to him?" Another woman's voice slipped into the call.
Al heard it—and his eyes widened instantly.
Without hesitation—
Click.
The call ended.
Al placed the phone back on the floor and stared at the stained ceiling for a few seconds before rolling over and stretching his leg.
"Better to end it there. If she joined in, I'd lose my precious sleep time," he muttered, relieved.
Yet the corners of Al's lips curved upward slightly.
As if… he was happy.
Of course, no one saw that expression. And maybe no one needed to.
The boy lying in that stuffy room had just spoken on the phone with someone even his family couldn't reach.
Meanwhile, on the other side—inside a luxurious room.
Soft lighting reflected off polished surfaces, the air warm and calm, carrying the faint scent of steam.
A woman wrapped in a bathrobe walked toward the vanity, speaking to another woman lounging casually on an expansive bed.
The woman on the bed—big sis—stared at her phone screen, which showed the call had ended.
"Yes. But he hung up," she said with a laugh.
The woman in the bathrobe puffed her cheeks in frustration.
"Ugh… he's always like that."
Then she sighed. "But it's fine, sis. It should still be morning over there. He probably wants to sleep peacefully."
"Haha… that's just how he is," big sis replied.
The woman in the robe smiled awkwardly without answering, picked up a hair dryer, and began drying her hair.
"Yeah… he really is lazy," she murmured softly.
Back at the Virellano residence—
Al lay back down—this time outside the dimensional room. Too lazy to go back in, he simply deactivated it and returned to staring blankly at the ceiling.
Still half-drowsy, his mind began to wander back to everything that had happened since he returned to this house. He reflected.
"It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since I got here, and some people already made it clear they don't want me here," he muttered softly.
"It's strange enough that my own family rejects me… but what's weirder is that even some of the servants and bodyguards followed their lead. Haaah."
He picked up his phone again, scrolling through messages as his thoughts deepened.
"I knew… rejection is normal. It hurts, but that's just how humans are. Not everyone has to like you. Even family isn't immune to that. There are plenty of parents and siblings who end up hating each other…"
He sighed, replying to a few texts half-heartedly.
"I never thought I'd experience it myself, though. I didn't even know I had a real family. And now that I do… this happens. Hehe, how ironic."
His thoughts turned darker as the names Sarah and David came to mind.
"Sarah had been blunt—she voiced her rejection openly. That was fine; at least she was honest. But David... that hypocritical brat," Al muttered under his breath.
"What's he so afraid of? That I'll take back the life that was supposed to be mine? That I'll shatter his perfect little world and kick him out? Or is it about that?"
He rubbed his temples.
"Yes, I guess it's all about the inheritance. And it looks like my father doesn't mind a non-biological child joining the competition. As for my mother… from the way she acts, she clearly favors that kid."
He let out a deep breath and turned off his phone.
"Huff… I really didn't expect my biological family to be this kind of people. This is going to be way more troublesome than I thought."
With a long yawn, his monologue came to an end. Sleepiness crept back in like an uninvited guest.
"Ah, forget it. In the end, this is all about our mission anyway. Many of my people came from this region—building good relations with this family is better than picking a fight. Good thing they're my blood relatives."
He mumbled one last thought as his eyelids grew heavy.
"For now… hooaaam… what matters most… is continuing my nap. Thinking too much… just makes me more tired… hooaaam…"
And with that, he rolled over on the old, medium-sized bed—David's former bed.
His breathing soon steadied, one arm draped over his face to block the sunlight streaming in through the window.
He was just beginning to fall back into sleep. His consciousness drifted...
But, of course, the world refused to let him rest.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three hesitant yet clear knocks echoed against the rusted door.
The second-floor balcony was also connected to a staircase, allowing someone to climb up from outside and knock on the upper door.
Al, barely entering the first stage of sleep, forced his eyes open. Red from exhaustion, they glared at the source of the noise.
With a groggy scowl, he grabbed a nearby rag and weakly tossed it toward the door.
"Mmmgh… who the hell is it this early…" he muttered, half annoyed, half asleep.
Knock. Knock.
This time, a bit louder.
With great reluctance, Al dragged himself upright and stared at the door with the vengeful gaze of someone deeply betrayed by life.
He crawled slowly toward the door like a tired caterpillar on the verge of death.
He reached out and turned the knob with the energy of a defeated soul—then pulled the door…
Unfortunately, he forgot one thing.
The door swung inward.
As it opened, Al, still leaning on it from the floor, got pulled backward—slamming into the floor and the wall behind him, half-crushed by the door.
The young male servant standing outside froze. He blinked. The door had opened… but no one was there.
"...Y-Young Master Al?"
He slowly peeked into the room—and found a bizarre sight:
a teenage boy lying on the floor, face partially pressed against the wall behind the door, eyes half-open like a creature clinging to life.
"…Oh, you came in too?" Al mumbled lazily, still not bothering to get up. "Be careful… gravity's really strong in this room… makes it hard to stand."
The servant stood frozen in place—torn between answering or running off to fetch a healer.
"Uh, y-yes… excuse me. Breakfast will be ready in an hour, Young Master… You're requested to join in the family dining hall."
Al slowly lifted one limp arm and pointed at himself.
"Me? Young? Master?" he asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
"...Yes, Young Master," the servant replied nervously.
"Hmmm... Right, I am the young master," Al muttered, rubbing his face with a hint of irritation.
"Then tell me—since you knew that I'm the Young Master, why are you brave enough to disturb my precious sleep?"
"I-I was only following orders, Young Master. Please forgive me," the servant stammered, bowing slightly.
Al chuckled softly. "Ahaha, relax. I was just joking. But next time, if someone tells you to wake me up, do it gently, okay?"
The servant nodded rapidly, apologizing once more.
Al didn't respond. He just let out a deep, world-weary sigh—his expression that of a man who'd already lived for four hundred years and was tired of everyone's nonsense.
With a sluggish, almost tragic movement, he pushed himself up from the floor as if returning from another dimension.
"Alright then," he grumbled. "Breakfast at this hour, huh? I usually eat around noon." He shuffled across the room like a zombie heading for its coffin.
"Rich people really enjoy torturing themselves early in the morning."
He opened his backpack, revealing his only spare outfit—a plain white T-shirt, neatly new but folded carelessly, and a pair of dark jogger pants that looked like they'd never seen an iron in their life.
"Oh right, maybe that's why they looked uncomfortable with me," he mused while preparing his clothes.
"Could it be my outfit? But hey, these are actually super expensive. It's just that they don't recognize the brand—and the quality is way above those popular luxury brands everyone knows."
He turned toward the servant and held up the clothes for inspection.
"If I wear this, I might not look like a stray kid anymore. Or should I go all out and wear a full suit for breakfast?" he joked, half-mocking his own situation in what was supposed to be his home.
The servant's face went pale at being asked a question that was clearly above his pay grade.
"M-My apologies, Y-Young Master… I'm just a servant."
Al sighed, a bit disappointed he didn't get an answer. He nodded sagely, giving the man permission to leave. Then, with another wide yawn, he began getting ready.