The scent of buttered toast drifted into the bathroom as Ethan stood in front of the massive mirror, toothbrush in mouth, hair wild, water dripping from his chin.
This bathroom was bigger than his old bedroom.
The silence was peaceful.
The kind of peace he didn't grow up with.
Mornings didn't come with the sound of broken fans or arguments outside. Just birdsong and distant sprinklers.
Ethan stood at the sink, brushing his teeth with one hand and scrolling through his phone with the other. The toothbrush moved lazily, his eyes half-focused on an article about a new startup opening downtown.
Some startup looking for investors in electric delivery drones. He glanced at it while brushing.
He swiped past it.
Not worth it.
A subtle feeling had kicked in—the kind that wasn't loud or obvious. Just a quiet nudge in the back of his mind.
[Perfect Investment Sense]: Low-profit potential. Risk exceeds reward.
He didn't even need to think about it now. The skill had fused into his instincts.
If he ever thought of putting money somewhere, the skill would whisper: good idea, bad idea, or waste of time.
Ethan spat, rinsed his mouth, and muttered, "Alright. Not this one."
Downstairs, his parents were already up.
"Ethan, breakfast!" his mom called.
"Coming," he said.
As he stepped out into the hallway,he saw toast, eggs, and coffee waiting on the table.. His mom was already busy—slicing fruits, checking the new coffee machine like it was alien tech.
His dad sat at the dining table, looking strangely relaxed with a newspaper in hand. He had even shaved.
"Morning," Ethan said, dropping into the chair.
His dad glanced up. "You look like you slept well."
"Yeah," Ethan replied, sitting down and grabbing a slice of toast. "The place is quiet. Comfortable."
"You sure they're not going to think you're a rich second-generation now?" she teased, brushing invisible dust off his shirt.
"I'm just the same Ethan," he said.
His dad chuckled. "Don't let the house go to your head, kid."
"I won't," Ethan said, he gave a small smile and finished his breakfast in peace. He liked mornings like these—simple, clean, and quiet.
He grabbed his bag, nodded to his parents, and stepped out.
The city hadn't changed. Same honking bikes. Same crowded sidewalks. Same fruit seller yelling prices at the corner.
His shoes touched the pavement like they belonged there now.
He passed a few students on the way to university. They nodded at him, whispering behind their hands.
He ignored it.
The walk was quiet, but not boring. Ethan took his time, watching traffic pass by, glancing at store signs. Every now and then, a part of him wondered:
Should I invest in something local?
Each time the thought became real, the Perfect Investment Sense would stir inside him—mostly giving a neutral hum. No clear green light. No danger either. Just… wait.
Fine by him.
He reached the university gates just as the first bell rang.
Inside, students buzzed around in little groups, as always. Most were already halfway into the gossip of the day.
"Did you hear about the new transfer student?"
"They say he's from one of those hidden rich families…"
Ethan ignored it and headed to his classroom.
He slid into his usual back-row seat, near the window.
The sun hit his desk just right. Not too warm. Not too bright.
He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, letting the classroom buzz around him.
Some girls were gossiping about the newest idol group.
A few boys were arguing over fantasy football.
Ethan just sat there, staring at nothing.
It felt like a normal day. Maybe even a good one.
Hopefully it stays like this.
Until the door opened.
Lucien walked in.
There goes my good day.
But he wasn't smiling or posturing like usual. He was quiet. Alert.
And following behind him was someone new.
Tall. Slender. Calm eyes. Sharp features. Quiet shoes on the floor.
He didn't walk like a student.
He walked like he didn't need to be there—but was there for a reason.
Lucien was walking one step behind him.
Students began to hush. Conversations slowed.
Ethan tilted his head slightly, watching from the corner of his eye.
The new guy scanned the classroom slowly. Not threatening. Just… observing.
Then he walked past Ethan's row and sat down without a word.
Lucien sat beside him, more like a sidekick now.
Strange.
Ethan leaned back again, feigning boredom. But something was nudging his brain.
A weird sensation. Like déjà vu.
Have I seen him before…?
The second guy said nothing. Just sat down, folded his arms, and closed his eyes.
Then, just as Ethan was about to look away—
The door creaked open once more.
A third person entered.
And this time, the room went completely silent.
No whispers. No confused murmurs. Just quiet.
He was dressed simply—black jacket, slightly torn jeans, a plain white tee—but everything about him screamed danger.
His jawline was sharp, his eyes narrow and cold like a wolf sizing up prey. A faint scar ran down from his right eyebrow to his cheek. His hair was messy, like he'd just walked out of a street fight and didn't care.
As he walked in, eyes followed him automatically. He didn't look at anyone,just calmly made his way to the last row and took a seat without a word.
A whisper floated across the room.
"Who's that…?"
"New transfer again?"
"Wait, didn't the teacher mention someone else was joining today?"
"I thought it was just that second guy…"
Ethan didn't say anything.
His gaze was locked in place.
But something inside Ethan twisted.
His heart thumped once.
FLASHBACK (Memory)
Gray skies. Rooftop. Rain.
A girl yelling through tears, "You lied to me!"
Original Ethan crying back: "I didn't say anything! I never did that! Please—believe me!"
And there.
In the background.
A boy watching.
Quiet. Still.
And after that day—
She left.
She stopped talking to Ethan.
Blocked his number.
Ethan never saw her again,
But in that memory—he saw the face now.
Back to Present
Ethan's eyes were cold now, narrowed slightly.
So you were the third one.
A small, crumpled paper landed on Ethan's desk.
He blinked, casually unfolding it beneath the desk, hidden from view.
"Meet me at the rooftop."
His brows furrowed.
Slowly, he looked up.
The third guy was staring right at him.
Leaning back in his seat like he owned the place, one leg propped over the other,.fingers tapping lazily on the desk. A small silver ring glinted on his hand—skull-shaped. A crooked, dangerous smirk, like a wolf eyeing dinner before the first bite.
Ethan slipped the paper into his pocket.
"Fine. Let's see what game you're playing."