Morning arrived.
The room was still dim. The tall, curtainless windows failed to block the early sunlight that began to pour into the small space.
On the side of the room—which looked more like an abandoned storage space than a bedroom—a faint snoring echoed softly through the dimensional space.
Inside, Al, the ever-lazy young man, lay sprawled on his oversized bed.
His hair was a mess, one cheek squished against his palm that seemed to be replacing the job of his pillow, while one of his legs had gone completely numb thanks to his ridiculous sleeping posture.
Calm.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
GRAAARR—GRAAARR!!
The thunder-like ringtone burst out from a black phone lying outside the dimensional room. He'd deliberately left it there—after all, signals couldn't penetrate the dimensional barrier.
Still, the vibration's echo reached inside, just enough to ruin the calm.
Al cracked one eye open, dazed and annoyed.
"Ugh... that ringtone..." he hissed.
With sluggish movements, he crawled out of the dimensional room and reached for the phone. The instant he grabbed it, whatever drowsiness he had left evaporated like mist under a storm.
That ringtone wasn't for just anyone. Only the most important people had been assigned that tone—people so underground, even the underworld didn't recognize them unless they needed to know.
Al didn't speak right away.
He simply placed the phone to his ear while slowly sitting up, wincing as he tried to shake off the pins and needles in his leg. No conversation was heard—only a long, drawn-out monologue from the caller.
He listened. For a very long time.
Then, finally, he spoke briefly.
"…Alright."
More time passed. Al kept listening, more focused on massaging the feeling back into his leg than anything else.
Eventually, he let out a small sigh and spoke softly with a slight smile.
"…You too."
Click.
The call ended. Al placed the phone back down on the floor and stared at the stained ceiling for a few seconds before rolling over, stretching out his slowly recovering leg.
"So annoying… and the morning hasn't even fully arrived," he muttered—half complaint, half surrender.
But the corners of Al's lips lifted slightly. As if… he was happy.
Of course, no one saw that expression. And maybe no one needed to. The ragged boy lying in that stuffy room, had just been on the phone with someone even his family couldn't reach.
Al lay back down—this time outside the dimensional room. Too lazy to go back in, he simply deactivated it and returned to staring blankly at the ceiling.
Still half-drowsy, his mind began to wander back to everything that had happened since he returned to this house. He reflected.
"It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since I got here, and some people already made it clear they don't want me here," he muttered softly.
"It's strange enough that my own family rejects me… but what's weirder is that even some of the servants and bodyguards followed their lead. Haaah."
He picked up his phone again, scrolling through messages as his thoughts deepened.
"I knew… rejection is normal. It hurts, but that's just how humans are. Not everyone has to like you. Even family isn't immune to that. There are plenty of parents and siblings who end up hating each other…" he sighed, replying to a few texts half-heartedly.
"I never thought I'd experience it myself, though. I didn't even know I had a real family. And now that I do… this happens. Hehe, how ironic."
His thoughts turned darker as the names Sarah and David came to mind.
"Sarah had been blunt—she voiced her rejection openly. That was fine; at least she was honest. But David... that hypocritical brat," Al muttered under his breath.
"What's he so afraid of? That I'll take back the life that was supposed to be mine? That I'll ruin his perfect little world and kick him out? And now he's planning to strike first? Sounds just like some old melodramatic novel."
He exhaled deeply, shutting off his phone.
"If that's really how it is, then it's kind of ridiculous. Honestly, I'm grateful we were switched at birth. If I'd lived his life from the start, I'd probably have turned into an arrogant, self-righteous jerk like all of them. Hehe… lucky me."
With a long yawn, his monologue came to an end. Sleepiness crept back in like an uninvited guest.
"Ah, forget it. I should focus on my mission after all. Many of my people came from this region—building good relations with the Virellano family is better than picking a fight. Especially since they're my blood family."
He mumbled one last thought as his eyelids grew heavy.
"If they keep rejecting me, then leaving won't be a choice—it'll be inevitable. But for now… hoaaaaaam... what matters most… is continuing my nap. Thinking too much… just makes me more tired... hoaaam…"
And with that, he rolled over on the old fur carpet that used to belong to David's cat. His breathing soon steadied, one arm draped over his face to block the sunlight streaming in through the window.
He was just beginning to fall back into sleep. His consciousness drifted...
But, of course, the world refused to let him rest.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three hesitant yet clear knocks echoed against the old wooden door.
Al, barely entering the first stage of sleep, forced his eyes open. Red from exhaustion, they glared at the source of the noise. With a groggy scowl, he grabbed a nearby rag and weakly tossed it toward the door.
"Mmmgh… who the hell is it this early…" he muttered, half annoyed, half asleep.
Knock. Knock.
This time, a bit louder.
With great reluctance, Al dragged himself upright and stared at the door with the vengeful gaze of someone deeply betrayed by life. He crawled slowly toward the door like a tired caterpillar on the verge of death.
He reached out and turned the knob with the energy of a defeated soul—then pulled the door inward…
Unfortunately, he forgot one thing.
The door swung inward.
As it opened, Al, still leaning on it from the floor, got pulled backward—slamming into the floor and the wall behind him, half-crushed by the door.
The young male servant standing outside froze. He blinked. The door had opened… but no one was there.
"...Y-Young Master Al?"
He slowly peeked into the room—and found a bizarre sight: a teenage boy lying on the floor, face partially pressed against the wall behind the door, eyes half-open like a creature clinging to life.
"…Oh, you came in too?" Al mumbled lazily, still not bothering to get up. "Be careful… gravity's really strong in this room… makes it hard to stand."
The servant stood frozen in place—torn between answering or running off to fetch a healer.
"Uh, y-yes… excuse me. Breakfast will be ready in an hour, Young Master… You're requested to join in the family dining hall."
Al slowly lifted one limp arm and pointed at himself.
"Me? Young? Master?" he asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
"...Yes, Young Master," the servant replied nervously.
"Hmmm... Right, I am the young master," Al muttered, rubbing his face with a hint of irritation. "Then tell me—since you knew that I'm the Young Master, why are you brave enough to disturb my precious sleep?"
"I-I was only following orders, Young Master. Please forgive me," the servant stammered, bowing slightly.
Al chuckled softly. "Ahaha, relax. I was just joking. But next time, if someone tells you to wake me up, do it gently, okay?"
The servant nodded rapidly, apologizing once more.
Al didn't respond. He just let out a deep, world-weary sigh—his expression that of a man who'd already lived for four thousand years and was tired of everyone's nonsense.
With a sluggish, almost tragic movement, he pushed himself up from the floor as if returning from another dimension.
"Alright then," he grumbled. "Breakfast at this hour, huh? I usually eat around noon." He shuffled across the room like a zombie heading for its coffin.
"Rich people really enjoy torturing themselves early in the morning… I should write that down as part of my mission notes."
He opened his backpack, revealing his only spare outfit—a plain white T-shirt, neatly new but folded carelessly, and a pair of dark jogger pants that looked like they'd never seen an iron in their life.
"Oh right, maybe that's why they looked uncomfortable with me," he mused while preparing his clothes. "Could it be my outfit? But hey, these are expensive, actually."
He turned toward the servant and held up the clothes for inspection.
"If I wear this, I might not look like a stray kid anymore. Or should I go all out and wear a full suit for breakfast?" he joked, half-mocking his own situation in what was supposed to be his home.
The servant's face went pale at being asked a question that was clearly above his pay grade.
"M-My apologies, Y-Young Master… I'm just a servant."
Al sighed, a bit disappointed he didn't get an answer. He nodded sagely, giving the man permission to leave. Then, with another wide yawn, he began getting ready.
---
One hour later – Virellano Family Dining Room
The main dining table looked grand and luxurious, as always. Each family member sat with grace, some already dressed in formal attire.
The mood was serious and quiet, only broken by occasional clinks of cutlery and light chatter.
Then, footsteps echoed from the hallway. A young man appeared, wearing a wrinkled white T-shirt, lounge pants, and slightly messy hair.
Al.
With a suspiciously cheerful face and oddly sparkling eyes, he strolled in like it was his own birthday party.
Without hesitation, he sat at an empty seat, smiling wide. It was his first family breakfast—he didn't want to ruin it.
"Good morning, everyone," he greeted brightly.
Every head turned at once to the source of this visual and social anomaly. Several servants instinctively lowered their heads to hide their baffled expressions.
Edward and Sandra exchanged a brief look.
Neither of them was in the best mood after last night's incident. They weren't truly ready to face Al yet, but since they had to, both had resolved to treat him a little better this time.
And now… he was here.
Or rather, he had arrived, though not quite in the way they expected.
Edward set down his teacup slowly, a short sigh slipping through his lips. Something felt off.
Why hasn't this boy prepared himself yet? Doesn't he have school? The orphanage staff said he was attending one, though they didn't specify where. Don't tell me he's planning to act up again… Hmph. I should ask him directly.
He frowned slightly and called out, voice calm but carrying a restrained edge of irritation.
"Don't you have school today?" he asked calmly. His eyes scanned Al's entire appearance.
"Yes, I do, Father," Al answered with a smile and twinkling eyes.
Edward blinked—then his face hardened, anger beginning to rise again.
"Then why aren't you dressed yet? Doesn't school start at eight? It's already past six. The driver leaves at seven, Where even is your school?"
Al was about to reply, but—
"He probably goes to some second-rate school," Sarah cut in from the far end of the table, sipping orange juice with a smug look.
Al turned to her. Their eyes met. Again—Sarah. Once more, the tension between them sparked—like a silent declaration of war.
This woman again. It's still morning, for god's sake, Al grumbled inwardly, slightly annoyed.
Instead of snapping back or taking offense, Al simply lowered his head slightly, a faint polite smile on his lips. He turned his gaze away from Sarah and focused on his father instead.
"Sorry, Father. But I have afternoon classes," he said casually.
"Huh? Since when do public schools have afternoon sessions?" Edward frowned, confusion mirrored by everyone else at the table.
Al shook his head.
"My school's private, not public."
Rather than being convinced, Edward looked even more suspicious. His gaze shifted toward Aurielle.
"Do private schools even have afternoon classes?"
Aurielle tilted her head slightly.
"Usually only elite ones, Dad. David's school has afternoon programs too, remember? I'm not sure about regular private schools, but maybe some do—especially smaller ones."
Edward nodded thoughtfully before turning back to Al.
"You're not lying, are you? Don't tell me this is just excuse."
"Of course not, Father. Why would I lie?" Al replied evenly, then added with a calm but pointed tone,
"But if you keep jumping to conclusions without solid proof like yesterday… then I honestly don't know what to say."
His words carried a subtle jab, testing whether his father still treated him the same way as before.
Edward flinched ever so slightly.
"Al," he said sternly,
"You could at least try to be more polite. Smooth your tone. Stop with those sarcastic remarks—they don't suit the dignity of this family and the way we act as members of it."
"Ah, I'm glad you brought that up, Father," Al said, brushing past the reprimand entirely.
"After all, I'm still new here. I have a lot to learn about how this family operates. It's part of my… adjustment process. As for my tone, well… it's a habit. Sometimes it just slips out."
He looked around the table before adding dryly, "Especially in a house where so many people practically beg to be teased. So, my apologies for that."
Sarah's brow twitched. "It's only natural for people like you to be used to behaving without manners," she sneered.
Al didn't respond. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on Edward.
"See? That's exactly what I mean. When you deal with people like her every day, anyone would get irritated. I'm actually being polite for only using sarcasm. Not as barbaric as some people."
He then turned his head slightly toward David.
"For example, people who prefer spreading false stories. That's barbaric," he added meaningfully.
David's jaw clenched. Rage boiled in his chest, but he couldn't afford to ruin his perfect image. He remained silent—though everyone at the table knew exactly who Al was referring to.
And Al… simply smiled. That sly, satisfied smile of someone who knew he'd landed a clean hit.
Edward pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache forming. Sandra could only shake her head helplessly beside him.
Is he really my son? Since when did I have a kid like this? He's testing my patience every second, Edward sighed inwardly.
"That's enough. All of you—stop arguing and throwing insults," he ordered firmly, ending the morning's drama.
Everyone nodded.
"Including you, Sarah. Stop provoking him. He's your brother. I expect the two of you to at least try to get along," Edward added, directing a sharp glance at his daughter.
Sarah's face tightened. She clearly didn't like being scolded, but she could only nod reluctantly.
"Understood, Dad," she muttered stiffly.
"Good," Edward exhaled in relief before turning back to Al. "So, you really have afternoon classes?"
Al nodded casually while sampling his breakfast.
"Do you still not believe me, Father?"
"Hmm... not entirely," Edward admitted. "But I want to ask something else."
"What is it?" Al asked curiously, drawing everyone's attention.
"Do you know why the data about you—and the other orphans from your foundation—are restricted? Both by the foundation and the Ministry of Child Protection?" Edward asked.
The question piqued everyone's curiosity. They'd all heard rumors about it, but never got clear answers.
David, in particular, looked eager—he'd been trying to dig up anything he could use against Al, but the records were sealed tight.
Hmph? I get it if the Ministry restricted it, Al thought silently.
But the foundation too? Until now, they haven't told me anything about that. Why? I should look into it.
Out loud, however, he simply shook his head.
"I have no idea, Father. But if there's something you want to know about me, feel free to ask directly."
His answer left the table mildly disappointed, though it made sense that Al himself didn't know.
Sandra nudged Edward discreetly, reminding him of the time. He glanced at his watch—he was due to leave soon.
"Al," Edward said, his tone softening a little,
"I don't know if you're telling the truth or not. But either way, you should get ready. There's no harm in leaving early. At least then I'll know for sure you're actually going to school."
Sandra and Aurielle both nodded in agreement.
David stayed silent, watching closely.
Sarah, however, couldn't help herself from muttering,
"He's obviously lying. There's no such thing as an afternoon class. He's just skipping."
Unfortunately, no one bothered to respond.
Al, on the other hand, blinked in mild surprise at his father's reasoning.
What kind of logic is that? But I guess it's understandable—he doesn't fully know my school schedule, after all, he mused inwardly.
I suppose there's no need to explain it for now. Better I just go to school this morning. I need to meet them and ask about that foundation issue. Then I can decide whether it's necessary to explain my school life to this family or not.
He then stood up, shrugging.
"Alright, Father. If tha't the case, then... I'll go change."
He grabbed a slice of toast and turned to leave.
Everyone stared—his casual demeanor was so unrefined for someone from a rich family.
"Make it quick," Edward said, turning back to his meal. "You'll be riding with David."
"Understood, Father," Al replied, bowing slightly before walking off.
But after just a few steps, he paused.
Wait… I'm riding with that liar?
He thought for a moment, then smirked faintly.
Fine. Maybe I'll get to learn more about him that way.
He resumed walking—but not before flicking his fingers subtly. A faint trace of magical energy shimmered in the air, targeting one specific person: Sarah.
A little parting gift for your lovely attitude this morning, he thought mischievously.
A moment later, as Sarah took a sip of her coffee, she suddenly flinched.
"Ah—!"
The cup slipped, spilling the hot liquid all over her hand and dress. She yelped from the burn as the others jumped in shock.
No one knew what had caused her sudden clumsiness.
Meanwhile, Al reached his room, tapping his forehead with a soft chuckle.
"I can't believe I'm being this active in the morning," he murmured.
He shook his head, smiling faintly to himself.
"Haaah… let's hope they're both available when I get there."
And with that, he began getting ready.
---
Minutes later, Al stepped out of his small building—now dressed in his school uniform: white-grey clothes under an oversized black hoodie, hair roughly combed, shoes gleaming.
He munched on the toast, occasionally glancing around.
His eyes scanned the driveway.
Empty.
No car.
No engine sounds.
No one.
He walked to the large luxury garage—it too was empty. And far too quiet.
Tilting his head, Al mumbled,
"…Hmm?"
He walked around the garage corners, hoping to find a backup vehicle or anything. Nothing.
He stepped back out, greeted only by morning air and his own reflection in the glass walls of the quiet mansion.
It didn't take long for Al to piece it together.
"Oh… they left without me?"
His tone wasn't angry. Just… confused.
"If they didn't want to drive me, why say they would? Or is this David's doing?"
He leaned his back against the wall, finishing the last bite of his bread.
Pulling out his phone, he opened the map and zoomed in on the school's location. A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Taxi? Bus? Hmm… walking doesn't sound too bad. Morning air's supposed to be good for health anyway. Besides, it's not that far for a little stroll," he murmured to himself, sounding half amused, half resigned.
He then walked away from the massive garage, leaving his reflection behind—hidden among the white marble pillars and the invisible eyes of the mansion's CCTV.
As he was about to step out, he spotted Dedy in the distance—out in the area west of the house. Dedy was in the middle of his morning training. His shaved head glinted slightly under the morning sunlight.
It seemed Dedy noticed Al as well, and immediately lowered his head, offering a light, respectful salute.
Al was slightly amused by it.
"Hmph… that guy was the one who was assigned to punish me last night. He's not as bad as I thought. For now, he's the only one showing me respect," he mused.
"He just gets a bit impulsive when he hears about that false case of me harassing a maid. Maybe he has some kind of trauma about it. I should find out a little about him. Who knows, he might be useful to me."
Al nodded back at Dedy, acknowledging the salute. Then he continued walking, pulling out his phone to call someone.
And so, his journey went on.
---
Meanwhile, inside a moving car, David watched from a tablet connected to the home's security feed.
A sly smile crept onto his lips.
"Enjoy that," he muttered.
Too bad he had no idea what kind of person he was messing with.
---