Evening approached…
Al was walking with Rina. The two of them boarded a small city bus that passed through a quiet upscale district on the city's outskirts. After getting off, Al walked slowly, with Rina following behind.
"Don't tell me… you live here?" Rina asked, eyes wide as she stared at the grand gate bearing the name Virellano Estate.
Al simply nodded and kept walking, his face as blank as ever.
"Wait... this is really your house? That thing you said earlier… 'rich kid'..."
Only now did Rina realize—maybe Al wasn't joking after all.
Suddenly, a voice came from the front gate. A girl with a ponytail, dressed in athletic wear like she had just finished a workout, stood holding a towel and wiping sweat from her neck.
Vianna Virellano.
Al's third eldest sister.
And… Rina's longtime rival in the martial arts world.
"Oh wow. Rina, the weak girl from Palaka Dojo," Vianna said with a mocking tone.
"Vianna?! You?!"
"What are you doing at my house? Don't tell me you're here to spy on my training."
Vianna shot a sharp glance at Al, then smirked at Rina.
"Oh… you're walking with him? Careful. He's just the house servant's kid."
Al, who had been walking, suddenly stopped.
That line—something that should never come from a Virellano child, referring to Al's parents, who were technically the birth parents of all the Virellano children as well.
His expression didn't change. But inside, something shifted.
A strange, unfamiliar emotion surged through his chest.
Servant.
That word stabbed deep.
He didn't know why, but a powerful anger flared.
So… my parents are thought of like that?
By their own blood?
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed.
The air around them turned heavy.
Like the pressure in the air had dropped several degrees.
Killing intent.
Thick. Deep. Terrifying.
Vianna and Rina—both trained martial artists—immediately sensed the oppressive aura.
Their bodies instinctively tensed.
But neither of them knew where the aura was coming from.
All they knew was that it was overwhelming.
Rina's breath caught.
Vianna was momentarily speechless.
They both glanced around… not realizing the source of the pressure was Al.
Then, just as suddenly, the aura disappeared.
Al only now noticed his fist was clenched tight.
He took a deep breath… and returned to his usual lazy expression.
"I'm heading in."
"I-I'm going home too!" Rina said quickly, turning on her heel and rushing away from the luxurious estate.
Vianna remained frozen in place. Her body cold. Her eyes trembling.
That just now… what was that?
What could possibly emit an aura like that?
She stared at Al's back as he disappeared behind the door of the estate.
---
Inside a taxi…
Rina sat in the back seat, her face pale. Her breaths were shallow. Cold sweat dripped down her temples.
Her hand trembled as she held her phone.
But not out of fear—
Out of tension.
"That aura…" she whispered.
It had been two weeks since she first felt something like that—in a narrow alley that caused various martial arts groups in Makazhar to gather.
No one knew what it was back then.
But the aura she just felt—right in front of the Virellano estate—
Was exactly the same.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Don't tell me… Al?"
She quickly shook her head.
"No way… He doesn't even have basic energy control. No aura. No background."
She turned her eyes back to the window. The sky was darkening. The last rays of the sun swallowed by thin clouds.
But that feeling in her chest…
Hadn't gone away.
---
Back at the small building behind the main house…
Al sat on the edge of his bed, his back against the wall. His body felt cold despite the lingering heat in the air.
He wasn't paying attention to the phone screen in front of him.
His mind kept replaying the scene earlier—Vianna's words calling their parents servants.
His hand clenched again.
Why did I react like that?
He tried to think logically.
I don't even feel that close to them yet…
So why did my emotions explode like that?
Was it… the effect of Blood Energy? A bond of blood?
The questions danced through his head. But he pushed them aside.
"Arrrggghh… too tired to think," he muttered, reaching for his phone.
Just as he opened his entertainment app, a soft knock came at the door.
Knock. Knock.
With reluctance, he got up and opened it.
Standing at the door… was Nayala.
Night had fully fallen.
But there she stood, calm and casual in a thin house dress, long hair down, and the strong but elegant scent of perfume lingering around her.
Her eyes studied Al with curiosity. Her lips curved into a flirtatious smile.
"So this is… the room of the man who was supposed to be my official fiancé?" she said, gazing into his modest room.
"What do you want?" Al asked.
"I'm just curious… about you. Aren't you even a little bit interested in me?"
Al said nothing, giving her a blank stare.
"Don't you want to at least try approaching me? Who knows—I might change my mind if you… impress me," she teased, deliberately leaning in, her tone and body language laced with sensual invitation.
Al continued staring at her.
Silent.
Then gave a short bow.
"Sorry. I'm not interested in scandals. I'm a good, rule-abiding rich boy."
Without changing his tone, Al slowly closed the door.
The sound of the click was crystal clear.
Like a clean, decisive end.
Nayala stood stunned by the rejection.
"Arrgghhh!"
---
Back at the main house...
Nayala stormed down the marble hallway, her steps fast and furious.
Her face was twisted with disappointment and frustration.
In the family lounge, David was seated casually with one of his personal bodyguards.
Nayala marched right up to him.
"He didn't even… show any interest in me! Not at all! He… closed the door on me!"
David gave a small smile.
"So irritating," Nayala grumbled.
David didn't look upset.
Instead, he closed his eyes briefly, then spoke to his guard.
"Continue to monitor Al's room perimeter."
"But sir, he didn't do anything to—"
"Exactly. The fact that he rejected Nayala is something I can flip. There were no other witnesses except our guards. We can say… Al forced her into his room."
The guard paused for a moment but nodded slowly.
"Understood, Young Master."
David gave a small, sly grin.
"Even if he doesn't play dirty...
I can make sure his name gets dirty anyway."
---