Morning came without mercy.
The sun burned on the skin, birds chirped like they were mocking the lazy, and Al's biological clock—as usual—forced him to wake up… in total misery.
It was Monday.
The cursed day for anyone who worships long sleep.
The day that follows Sunday feels like time itself has committed betrayal.
Al slowly opened his eyes. His body still ached from the "night of judgment" he had just endured. He lazily got out of bed in the small building they called his "room"—if a room could be defined as a discarded space almost equal to a storage shed.
He walked to the door, opened it slowly...
And instantly squinted—not because of the sunlight, but because of the reflection of the sunlight from someone's bald head.
Someone was standing firm at his door, back facing Al, posture stiff like a military statue. Broad shoulders, tall and muscular body—even from behind, this figure looked like someone who could make others wet their pants just by standing there.
Al narrowed his eyes.
"…Dedy?"
The bald man turned slowly, his harsh expression unchanged, but...
He saluted.
Right hand clenched into a fist and pressed against his left chest. Firm. Respectful. Full of reverence.
Al blinked.
Several times.
"…Did you mistake me for someone else?" he muttered lazily.
"Good morning, Young Master Al," said Dedy in a deep voice that could crack glass on a bad day.
Al just stared. "...What are you doing here?"
"I am monitoring the area around the house," Dedy answered firmly, still standing like he was guarding a palace.
"This building is a hundred meters from the main house. Why are you monitoring here?" Al asked, slightly annoyed.
"I must monitor every inch of the Virellano residential area, Young Master."
"Hmph… That's not your job, is it?"
"I-it is part of my duty, Young Master," Dedy stammered.
"Were you told to watch me?"
"Of course not, Young Master."
"Huh… whatever." Al waved him off lazily. "But I don't really like being watched, so keep a reasonable distance. Because if I start feeling uncomfortable… I might do something you won't like. Hehe."
Hearing that, Dedy's body stiffened.
Sweat started forming on his brow—despite the sun, it hadn't been there until now. Swallowing hard, Dedy responded obediently:
"U-understood, Young Master Al."
Al smiled after teasing him, and for the first time since living in this house, someone—a cold-blooded man with granite muscles—had shown him genuine respect.
Even the regular servants never treated him like part of the family. They often ignored him or left him alone. Like the wind—his presence felt, but unseen.
But this…
Dedy, the elite bodyguard of the Virellano family, now stood before his room and greeted him like a knight to a prince.
Al wiped his face, thinking:
Did I die last night and wake up in a parallel world… or is this some psychological side effect from being scolded too much in this house?
As Al stepped outside, the man moved aside, standing like a true guard. His bald head still reflected the morning sun like a blinding mirror.
Al squinted again. "Dedy…"
"Yes, Young Master?"
"I think you'd look more handsome with a hat."
No response. Dedy remained like a statue—but the corner of his lips slightly twitched, as if struggling to suppress a smile.
Al sighed lazily and walked down the small steps.
His mind still clouded with questions.
Is this part of a new plan?
A secret punishment?
Why is Dedy acting so weird today?
He walked past Dedy and headed to the bathhouse, which was separate from his room.
As always, he still lived like a house prisoner… though now it felt like this prisoner was under excessive surveillance.
But Al didn't know—this time, Dedy had voluntarily appointed himself as Al's personal subordinate.
---
Meanwhile, inside the Main House...
David stood behind the curtain of his bedroom window, peeking into the small yard where Al had just stepped out.
His eyes narrowed.
There—
Dedy.
Standing a few meters behind Al, watching him.
Clearly different from usual.
Normally, Dedy was the one who avoided even looking at Al for more than five seconds.
David furrowed his brows. "Why is he out there?"
Beside him stood a man in all-black attire—David's personal shadow guard.
"Why is Dedy stationed near that orphan boy's room today?" David asked coldly. "Are you still able to monitor him?"
"I... don't know, Young Master. Dedy moved on his own since dawn. I don't yet know the reason. And… it will be difficult to keep watching the boy if Dedy stays near him."
"If you don't know, then find out. Right now.
I'm not losing track of him just because of one shiny bald head."
The guard nodded and disappeared into the wall like a shadow blending into the air.
David stared into the distance.
His expression hardened.
There was a flicker of worry in his eyes.
Why is Dedy acting different… Is this Father's order?
---
On the Road to School
Al walked leisurely along the stone path leading to the main gate of the Virellano estate.
As usual—no car, no driver.
Just walking.
Because, well… who cares if the discarded son gets tired?
Only one thing was different today.
Dedy.
Far behind him.
Keeping a respectful distance, but obviously watching.
Like a bodyguard—but not.
Like a shadow—but far too visible.
Al glanced back.
He's really following me, he thought.
Then he scanned his surroundings, hoping to spot the familiar presence of the spy who usually watched him silently—
But today, that presence was gone.
Maybe… he really was replaced.
Or maybe he got scared.
---
Hazandeen International High School – School Festival Day
Today was the beginning of April.
The final school term for senior students like Al.
And as tradition goes, Hazandeen International High School officially opened its School Festival week—an annual celebration featuring competitions in sports, arts, and science & technology.
For final-year students, this was their last School Festival.
Including Al.
Although he didn't care about it at all, Rina had forced him to come early last night.
"Be here early! I need your help with prep. No excuses!"
Feeling a bit guilty (and too lazy to argue), Al actually showed up early.
He hadn't even had breakfast.
His stomach growled, his mouth yawned endlessly, but he still stepped into the schoolyard, which was starting to fill up.
The atmosphere today felt like a night market.
Colorful balloons, flags for each class waving proudly, booths being set up, and giant speakers blasting upbeat songs that only made Al want to sleep even more.
As he passed through the gate, a headache started creeping in.
Hot, noisy, and… yeah, way too crowded.
"AL!! Change your clothes!" Rina shouted from afar, waving her hand while wearing a school sports jacket.
Al sighed deeply.
…This is why I hate joining events like this.
He made his way toward the locker room at the back of the school.
A quiet, peaceful place—usually free from interruptions.
Usually.
But not today.
As soon as he opened the locker room door—Jogo was already there.
Tall posture, broad shoulders, wrinkled sports uniform doing a poor job of hiding his muscular body. A senior in the Hazandeen Martial Arts Club—a guy who thought everything could be solved with muscles and loud cheer squads.
---