Today, Hazandeen felt like a night market.
Colorful balloons, class flags fluttering in the breeze, open tents, and giant speakers blasting high-energy music that only made Al want to fall asleep faster.
The moment he stepped through the gate, Al's head started throbbing.
Hot, crowded, and… yeah, way too many people.
"AL!! Go change your uniform!" Rina shouted from afar, waving while wearing a school sports jacket.
Al let out a long sigh.
"…This is exactly why I hate joining events like this."
He walked toward the locker room at the back of the school. A quiet place, peaceful, and (usually) free from disturbances.
Usually.
But not today.
As he opened the locker door—Jogo was already there.
Tall posture, broad shoulders, crumpled sports uniform that couldn't hide his muscular build. A senior in Hazandeen's Martial Arts Club—the kind of guy who believed everything could be solved with brute force and loud cheers from his squad.
Jogo stepped closer.
One hand slammed into the locker right beside Al's head—BANG!—and his body leaned in aggressively, as if trying to threaten Al through sheer presence.
His sharp eyes glared directly at him.
"You hear me," he hissed. "Stay away from Rina."
Al stared back blankly. Eyes half-lidded, expression dead as ever.
"You think just because she asked for your help, you get to hang around her?" Jogo continued. "A poor kid like you has no place near her. Don't act like you're close."
Still silent. Al didn't reply. Didn't flinch.
He just raised one eyebrow slightly, giving Jogo a look that seemed to say: Who even are you?
Jogo's face tightened.
Annoyed.
Not because Al fought back—but because he didn't react at all.
"Don't just stand there like an idiot," he growled, fists twitching—ready to strike.
But he stopped. Took half a step back. Licked his lips in tension.
Before leaving, he whispered:
"You'll regret it if you cross me, kid. Especially if you get near my girl…"
And like a cheap drama villain, Jogo stomped away.
Leaving behind the stink of sweat, a bruised ego, and… a touch of disgust.
Al stood still.
Took a deep breath.
"So this is about high school love drama…" he muttered.
"Why do I keep getting dragged into the dumbest problems in people's lives?"
He opened his locker and pulled out his gym uniform.
Al put on his school jacket slowly, head tilted slightly.
"Rina has a fanboy that intense? Why does she always drag me into her mess…"
He slipped on his shoes, shaking his head slowly.
Problems kept showing up. But so far, none were worth taking seriously.
---
The opening ceremony of School Festival began exactly at 8 a.m.
All students stood in rows on the central field. But, as always, not everyone took it seriously.
Under the big banyan tree in the corner of the field, a group of delinquents and lazy students—what the teachers called "the shadow team"—gathered peacefully.
Naturally, Al was among them.
Lying back, hands behind his head, eyes gazing at the sky—like he was pondering the great mysteries of life.
Why do sports festivals always start with heat and long speeches?
Why is life so cruel on Mondays? he thought.
The voice of the principal echoed through the speakers:
"Dear students of Hazandeen…"
And the long speech began.
Al almost dozed off.
Until…
"…and an important announcement: next month, we will welcome a special guest from the corporate world. The young CEO of Alasia Group—Miss Aiza Hiruzen—will visit us in person!"
Al's head turned slightly.
His eyes blinked.
He sat up straighter, still silent—but clearly no longer sleepy.
Aiza Hiruzen...? Coming here...?
Rina—who had apparently snuck to the back row too—sat nearby. She looked over and playfully nudged Al's shoulder.
"Hey, dreaming of working at Alasia too?" she whispered. "Wait… aren't you an Alasia scholarship kid? Wow… does that mean you have a connection?"
Al glanced at her briefly but didn't respond.
Rina continued, full of excitement,
"I heard she's super young. Like, a Harvard freshman! Can you believe that? And they say her beauty's insane. Even top international idols can't compare!"
Al still didn't reply.
Rina giggled.
"Have you ever seen her, Al? Don't tell me you're one of those scholarship kids who just gets money but never gets near the main Alasia building?"
Al shook his head.
Not to answer—but because his thoughts had drifted too far.
Rina mistook that for a reply.
"Hehe, of course you haven't. But rumor says... if you see Miss Aiza in person, even the most hopeless gay guys turn into manly straight dudes."
She laughed, eyebrows dancing with mischief.
Al gave a faint smile.
That tiny smile—though brief—carried thousands of memories he couldn't explain.
The principal continued speaking, this time with a more formal tone.
"And this year's School Festival will be special. For the first time, we'll welcome guests from another elite school in a spirit of friendship: Makazhar Elite School."
Some students cheered. Some looked confused. Others just yawned.
Then, the main gate opened.
A group of teachers and students entered the field—walking in perfect formation, postures sharp and dignified.
They wore Makazhar uniforms: black and gold blazers with the school emblem on the chest. Their faces radiated confidence, like elites showing off their dominance.
And standing at the front…
David Virellano.
Tall. Neatly dressed. A face that could land on both business and teen fashion magazine covers.
His smile was faint. His demeanor calm.
And like magic,
the entire female population of Hazandeen fell silent.
Some stared with sparkling eyes.
Others whispered in awe and excitement.
"That's David Virellano…"
"Real Virellano blood… rumored heir to the family!"
"OMG, a guy like that came to our school?!"
Rina glanced briefly at David, then looked back at Al.
The difference between them was like heaven and earth.
But oddly, Rina didn't react like the others.
She kept watching Al's face, which remained calm—almost… blank.
Al isn't reacting? Does he not know who David is?
Wait, doesn't Al live at the Virellano residence too?
Is he embarrassed because he's just the maid's son?
she wondered.
The crowd cheered louder as Makazhar students entered the field.
David Virellano, with his charming wave and soft smile, greeted the masses.
He knew how to be dazzling.
He knew how to be captivating.
And of course—
he knew who he needed to destroy.
Al.
His eyes scanned the field—then found his target.
Al, lounging casually under the banyan tree in his sportswear. And beside him…
A tomboyish girl with tan skin from outdoor training and an athletic frame still growing. Her energy radiated through her posture, her laugh, even how she teased Al.
Rina.
David let out a soft hiss.
Lucky bastard… getting close to her.
A flicker of jealousy flared in his chest—but he masked it, expertly.
Under the tree, the mood had shifted—from lazy to sharp.
Rina, still curious, turned to Al and casually asked:
"Hey, don't you live at the Virellano estate? Yesterday, Vianna said you were like the servant's kid there. So you must know David, right?"
It was a simple question.
But not for Al.
He slowly turned his head.
Those half-closed eyes opened just a bit wider.
His gaze pierced—not violent, but enough to shift the air around them.
Rina instantly felt it.
In Al's eyes, this wasn't about David.
This was about his parents.
"Servant…?"
That word hit hard.
Because Sandra and Edward Virellano—though they never raised him—were still his biological parents. Yet everyone called them "servants"?
Al's lazy smile vanished.
Rina panicked, seeing his eyes sharpen.
She looked down, flustered, grabbing Al's hand.
"Eh—Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry, Al! Really, I didn't mean it…"
Al inhaled slowly, turning his gaze away.
He managed to keep his emotions from boiling over.
If he hadn't, Rina might've fainted from the pressure.
"…It's not your fault," Al murmured.
"But for now, don't say anything about my parents."
---
From afar, Jogo watched them.
Rina—gripping Al's hand.
Al—staring back at her.
And the scene—too close for comfort, burning the eyes of a possessive admirer.
Jogo's temple veins popped.
His jaw clenched tight.
"That poor brat dares…?"
"Just wait. I'll beat you bloody in the middle of the field. So everyone knows your place."
Elsewhere, David stood tall, still smiling at the crowd.
But his eyes… analyzed. Calculated. Searched for openings.
Hazandeen.
The number-one school in East Indorosia.
Fully sponsored by the Alasia Foundation—whose power even surpassed the Virellano family.
Meanwhile, Makazhar Elite School stood as its rival.
Funded by David's family, created to train elite successors.
Yet still… under Alasia's shadow.
Hazandeen only held prestige because of Alasia's money.
And Al—a street rat living in their house—attending this school.
Disgraceful.
David slowly clenched his fist.
But this wasn't the time to fight.
It was still the opening ceremony.
Still the time for pleasantries.
Soon… he'll be crushed.
---
The principal spoke again.
"This year, our School Festival will include an exciting new twist: an inter-school competition!"
"Makazhar Elite School and Hazandeen International High School will go head-to-head in sports, martial arts, arts, and even science & tech!"
The crowd roared.
"A symbol of friendship… and a healthy battle to prove who's the best."
In the back, Al remained seated under the tree.
He stared at the sky for a moment.
"Friendship, huh…"
---