The first official day of class arrived with a buzz of excitement around the university.
Among the crowd, three young men walked together, their steps steady but their eyes carrying a mix of awe and determination.
Rodney Klein, tall and broad-shouldered with a quiet confidence.
James Whitaker, sharp-eyed, often the one who spoke when the others hesitated.
And Hansen Doyle, the most cheerful of the three, whose laughter usually eased the tension between them.
They had been childhood friends, bound not just by time but by shared struggles.
Today, they shared another milestone—the chance to study at Westbridge University, the most prestigious institution in Montclair, a dream that once felt unreachable.
Thanks to their grades, discipline, and relentless effort, all three had managed to secure scholarships.
It was their golden ticket to stand among the nation's brightest minds and wealthiest heirs.
At first, the thought alone filled them with pride.
But reality was a swift and brutal reminder.
The moment they stepped into the lecture hall and listened to introductions, their hearts sank.
Their classmates weren't just students—they were legacies.
Children of conglomerates, political dynasties, and corporate empires.
Heirs to power and wealth that stretched across Montclair and beyond.
No matter how capable Rodney, James, and Hansen were, their scholarships suddenly felt small compared to the weight of names like Castillo.
By the time the introductions ended, the three friends exchanged silent glances.
The truth hit them all the same.
Being born into a good family was already a blessing.
But here, surrounded by legacies of the nation's elite… they were treated as if they were nothing.
The realization came crashing down harder than they expected.
At first, they thought being scholarship students was something to be proud of.
Proof that effort and intelligence could carve a path even without wealth.
But in this place, that same fact became the mark that set them apart.
The moment it was revealed they had gotten in through scholarships, whispers began spreading.
Subtle at first, then sharper.
"Ah, scholarship students…"
"So that's why I haven't heard of their families."
"They must've really gotten lucky."
Each word stung, even if spoken in hushed tones.
No matter how excellent their qualifications, it didn't matter here.
Surrounded by legacies of the nation's elite, sons and daughters of dynasties, Rodney, James, and Hansen were reduced to shadows.
Their existence in the classroom was tolerated, but not acknowledged.
As days passed, the weight only grew heavier.
Being poor in the richest place wasn't just hard—it was like they weren't supposed to exist at all.
One late afternoon, the sun was setting over Edelbourg, painting the skies orange and gold.
Rodney, James, and Hansen walked side by side down the path toward the dorms, their conversation low and tired.
But then, footsteps echoed behind them.
"Hey, you three," a smooth voice called out.
They turned to see Luke Martinez approaching.
His uniform was neatly pressed, his posture confident, and the emblem pin on his chest quietly boasted of his family's corporate empire.
Luke was a Martinez—an heir to one of Montclair's powerful conglomerates.
Rodney tensed instinctively, James narrowed his eyes slightly, while Hansen forced a faint smile.
Encounters like this rarely meant anything good for scholarship students.
Luke stopped in front of them, hands in his pockets, a calm smirk tugging at his lips.
"Rodney Klein, James Whitaker, Hansen Doyle. You're the scholarship trio, right?"
The three exchanged wary glances. Hansen spoke first, his tone careful. "Yeah… that's us. Why?"
Luke's smirk widened just a little, his sharp eyes studying them like prey under a magnifying glass.
"I just thought it was interesting. Three nobodies ending up in this class. I wonder how long you'll last here."
The air grew heavy in an instant, the weight of his words pressing against them.
Rodney clenched his jaw, James's fists curled slightly, and Hansen's forced smile faded.
They already knew. This wasn't a casual chat. It was the beginning of something worse.
Luke's smirk lingered as he stepped closer, his voice low but dripping with mockery.
"You see, this class isn't for people like you. Legacies, heirs, people who matter—that's who belongs here. But you three? You're just… taking up space."
Rodney's fists trembled, James's glare sharpened, and Hansen bit his lip, unable to find words.
The tension hung heavy, the weight of humiliation pressing down on them.
And then—
Footsteps echoed from the side path.
Claude walked casually toward the group, his expression calm, his stride steady as if he hadn't noticed what was happening.
He stopped just close enough to draw attention, his gaze flicking briefly over Luke before settling on the three scholarship students.
"Hey. What's all this noise about? You're disturbing the atmosphere."
Claude said evenly, his tone flat, almost dismissive.
"If you want to talk, keep it down. Some of us value peace."
The words weren't sharp, yet they carried a weight that made Luke's brows twitch.
For a moment, the atmosphere shifted.
Rodney, James, and Hansen blinked, stunned.
To Luke, it looked like Claude was irritated by them all, not just his bullying.
But the three friends realized instantly—Claude had just given them an out, a way to step away without humiliation.
Claude's presence, calm yet commanding, was enough to tilt the balance.
The bully's fun was cut short.
After Luke finally backed off with a sour look, the air loosened.
The tension that had been suffocating moments ago slowly faded.
Rodney, James, and Hansen bowed their heads slightly toward Claude.
Claude only gave them a faint glance, his expression calm, almost indifferent. "Don't mention it."
And with that, he turned and continued walking down the path, his figure soon blending into the distance.
The three stood in silence for a while, watching him go.
Then Hansen's stomach growled, breaking the quiet. He gave a sheepish laugh.
"How about we eat before heading back? There's that little restaurant near the dorms."
Rodney and James exchanged a glance, then nodded.
"Yeah, let's go," Rodney said.
Together, the three childhood friends walked toward the small restaurant tucked on a corner near the dormitories.
The warmth of the food eased their nerves as the three sat in their usual corner booth, the faint smell of broth and grilled meat filling the air.
Steam rose from their bowls, blurring the exhaustion from their faces after a long, tense day.
Rodney let out a deep sigh, poking at his food with a grin.
"Man, we're really lucky today. If Claude hadn't shown up, I don't even wanna imagine how far Luke would've gone."
James nodded, adjusting his glasses.
"Yeah. The way he stepped in—so… commanding. I thought he was just gonna ignore it like everyone else."
Hansen chuckled, resting his chin on his hand.
"And yet, he acted like it was nothing afterward. Just a 'don't mention it' kind of face. That guy's colder than the air conditioning in this place."
Rodney laughed.
"Cold, yeah, but not in a bad way. I think that's just how he is. Still, we owe him big time."
"Definitely," James agreed, stirring his soup.
"Someone like him doesn't just help people for no reason. Maybe he's not as distant as he looks."
Hansen smirked, raising his glass.
"Then let's make it our mission to crack that ice around him."
Rodney joined in with a grin. "Yeah, maybe get him to smile for once."
James chuckled softly. "Good luck with that."
Their laughter filled the small restaurant, blending with the hum of evening chatter.
For the first time in a long while, they felt a sense of belonging.
And somewhere out there, Claude—cold, quiet, and unknowingly—had already become a part of that warmth they'd been missing.
***
Claude suddenly sneezed out of nowhere while lounging in his villa's study.
"Someone must be talking about me," he muttered lightly, rubbing his nose.
The large clock on the wall ticked quietly as he leaned back in his chair, gazing at the peaceful scenery outside.
Sunlight poured through the glass windows, glinting off the polished desk.
He shrugged slightly. "Well, whatever it is, I hope it's not trouble."
Stretching his arms, Claude was about to rest his eyes when a familiar blue window flickered to life before him, immediately catching his attention.
|╣NEW TASK ISSUED╠|
|╣Objective: Make a 10,000,000 CP investment╠|
Claude blinked several times, stunned.
Ten… million? he thought, his hand frozen midair.
That's not even something I can imagine handling!
The air shimmered faintly, and a sleek, black card materialized right before him, falling gently onto the table.
The card had no markings, only a silver crest engraved faintly at its center.
|╣A special black card containing the required fund has been issued.╠|
Claude picked it up, staring at its flawless surface.
The card felt heavier than metal, almost intimidating.
"Ten million CP, huh?" he murmured softly, exhaling. "You really want me to act rich, don't you?"
|╣Correction: Be rich.╠|
Claude stared blankly at the glowing letters.
This system… really won't let me rest, will it?
He sighed inwardly, already feeling another long day ahead.