It had been a month since Al started living at the Virellano estate.
Time moved like a calm current—but beneath the surface, invisible whirlpools churned.
Every day, Al woke up at the crack of dawn—something he'd never imagined doing on a regular basis. Not because he liked it, but because the house had rules. Unwritten, yet heavy. Like the air around his family—always elegant, proper… and cold.
He ate breakfast alone in his room.
The ban on joining the main dining table still stood.
The looks from his older sisters—and even from the servants and security staff—though no longer as openly hostile as when he first arrived, were still often laced with subtle jabs. Or, more commonly, polite smiles paired with sharp, cutting words.
After breakfast, he put on his school uniform and left early.
Though he was officially in the afternoon class, his schedule had been unilaterally changed.
"To instill discipline befitting a Virellano," his father had said one morning while sipping tea.
Al didn't care. He simply obeyed, like a shadow moving according to the light.
The school day passed with a rhythm bordering on dull.
He continued to keep everything hidden, living like an ordinary student.
Friends? None, it seemed.
Enemies? Probably more than a few.
But Al remained silent, letting everything flow just the way he wanted.
In the late afternoon, he returned home.
Usually greeted by a snide remark from Sarah or sarcastic banter from the staff.
But lately, the house felt... calmer.
Or maybe they were just getting bored?
Hard to tell.
One thing hadn't changed: David's bodyguard still shadowed him.
Sometimes from a black car parked at a distance.
Sometimes from the rooftops.
Sometimes behind the tinted glass of the building across the street.
He probably thought Al didn't notice.
But Al always knew.
Because he always knew.
But night—night was Al's true world.
After all the lights went out, after the world fell asleep, Al rose.
He donned his black uniform—no emblem, no identity—and slipped out.
This city was big, but to Al, the night made it feel small.
He moved swiftly, skimming back alleys, hopping over shop rooftops, sometimes diving into the underground market just to chase whispers—voices that ordinary people could never hear.
There was information to gather.
Motions to track.
And when he returned before dawn, the cold wind brushing against his skin, his uniform soaked in sweat and city dust, Al looked up at the fading sky.
A new day would begin again.
He washed his face and put on the mask of a quiet, lazy, ordinary kid.
A month had passed.
And everything was still under control.
For now.