As soon as he entered his room, Al dropped himself onto the bed. Still wearing long pants and a thin T-shirt. His eyes were sleepy, his body slightly sore from last night's patrol.
Just as he was about to pull the blanket over himself—
Tringg... Tringg...
His phone rang. Indra's name appeared on the screen.
Al answered it with one hand while still lying down, voice groggy.
"Hello?"
Indra's cheerful voice rang out instantly.
"You're free this morning, right? Come with me to the fish market. I've got some university research to do. Just two hours."
Al clicked his tongue. "Nah. I didn't get enough sleep."
Indra chuckled lightly, as if expecting that answer.
"My mom made some cake, you know. For you."
Al opened one eye.
"…Cake?"
"Yup. And cold soda."
In an instant, Al sat up straight, eyes wide open.
"Okay, wait for me."
Click.
Call ended immediately.
On the other end, Indra chuckled and shook his head.
"Lazy brat. Only motivated when there's cake involved. Even though he's already filthy rich, he can still be baited with food so easily. Haha, that kid's weird." Al murmured.
---
8:00 a.m. — the city was getting busy.
Al walked along the sidewalk wearing a black hoodie, hood down. Underneath, he already had his full HIHS school uniform on, with a backpack slung over his shoulders. His pace was relaxed, but his eyes remained sharp as usual.
Beside him, Indra wore a casual navy-blue shirt and brown cargo pants. A digital camera hung from his neck, and a messenger bag full of notebooks was slung over his shoulder.
They arrived at the Makazhar Fish Auction Market, a bustling area filled with the sharp scent of salt and sea. It was noisy, vibrant, and chaotic in that familiar port-city way.
The market was large and unique—besides the main auction zone, there was also a section for regular retail sales.
Their goal was simple: to buy fresh fish for Indra's research on heavy metal contamination in urban ocean fish.
But the mood shifted when they passed a certain corner of the market.
A loud shout rang out.
A uniformed market officer was shoving and scolding an old vendor with a small cart.
"I told you, this place isn't for bottom-feeders like you! If you can't pay rent, get lost!"
The old man pleaded. "But, sir… I already paid like usual. I just—"
The officer kicked over the cart, sending fresh fish scattering across the ground.
The air turned cold. The other vendors looked away, pretending not to see.
Indra stepped forward and raised his voice.
"Hey! That's too much."
His steps were firm. The camera around his neck bounced slightly.
"Small vendors have rights too, sir," he added.
The officer turned, giving Indra a once-over.
"Who are you?"
"A college student? Hmph… Looks like you're just a commoner's kid."
The officer narrowed his eyes.
"You better stay out of this, boy. Before you and your family regret it. This is Norvalien territory, you know?"
Indra paused. He knew it was true. His family's fishery business was affiliated with a company owned by the Norvalien family. But he kept his gaze steady.
"Right is right. Wrong is wrong."
"So you do want trouble."
The officer signaled for two large security guards to come over.
"Teach this kid a lesson. Make sure he doesn't forget it."
Two bulky men approached. Indra braced himself, though clearly he wasn't a fighter.
As the first punch was about to land—
Srettt!
Al caught the man's arm with one hand.
"Haah… Indra, Indra…" he sighed. "You really do love meddling in other people's problems."
With a swift, clean movement, Al twisted the guard's arm and flipped him to the ground. The other guard lunged but was met with a sharp kick to the chest, sending him rolling into a pile of fish crates.
Indra froze.
"Al… since when were you this good at fighting?!"
Al brushed his hands off casually, then ran his fingers through his hair.
"Me? Nah. That wasn't fighting, really. More like… hmm… giving a lesson."
Seeing both his bodyguards taken down so easily by a teenager, the market officer began to panic. This kid could ruin the whole market scene without even breaking a sweat.
He quickly moved to help his injured men up and started backing away.
Before leaving, he shot a glare at them.
"You've made a mistake. The Norvalien family won't let this slide!"
He turned and hurried off, leaving behind the stench of fear and threat.
---
Indra walked over to help the old man gather the scattered fish.
Al remained still, eyes locked in the direction the officer had gone.
"…Norvalien?"
His eyes narrowed. In his thoughts:
Bullied by Rudi at school, now threatened by his family. Seems like my fate with them isn't all that pleasant.
As they helped the old man return the fish to his woven basket, Al broke the silence.
"Indra… aren't you scared? I mean, your family might get dragged into trouble if the Norvaliens retaliate."
Indra glanced sideways. His eyes held some anxiety, but no regret.
He let out a slow breath.
"I don't know, Al… Of course I don't want my family to get hurt. But still… I can't just stand by and watch someone be treated like that."
Al said nothing—just gave a faint smile. They stood up together.
The old man looked at them, eyes glassy with emotion.
"Thank you, young men… But… listen. If you can still leave this city, leave."
Al and Indra turned to him.
"Why, sir?"
The old man lowered his head. His voice was heavy.
"The Norvalien family… they're too big to fight. In this city, only two names can oppose them—Virellano and Tamarvich."
Al and Indra exchanged looks. No clear response. Just a quiet nod.
"Thank you for the warning, sir. But don't worry… We're not the type to go down that easily," Indra said with a smile.
They said their goodbyes and walked out of the market.
---
On the way out…
"Al… so you're really not scared?"
"Me? I'm just scared the soda's not cold anymore."
Indra stared at him, half annoyed.
Al grinned.
Indra burst out laughing. "You lazy brat."
And that's how Al helped Indra finish his goal for the day—and earned his reward in the form of cake and soda at Indra's house.
---
Outside Indra's home, Al was putting his shoes back on.
Al watched Indra's Mother stand up to see him off, with Indra standing behind her doing who-knows-what.
A strange unease crept into Al's chest for a moment. Still, he forced himself calm —
Everything will be fine for them and for me. Be calm. Whatever threat comes for you, I won't let it happen. he thought, as if that family were a pillar of priceless value to him.
With that resolve, he said his goodbyes.
"Auntie, thanks for the cake and soda. Your cooking's still the best in the world."
"Of course it is," Indra's mother said with a bashful smile.
"Come by again, okay? I'll make you a new kind of cake next time."
"Definitely, Auntie. I'll be going now."
Al lingered a moment longer as he bade them farewell. That odd feeling was still there, but he pushed it away.
Negative thoughts always lead to negative outcomes. Everything will be okay. he told himself.
With a wave, he excused himself and briskly walked down the narrow alley toward the main road.
---
Meanwhile, at the Norvalien Estate
In a luxurious baroque-style living room, Rudi Norvalien had just arrived home from school. His uniform was still neat, shoes polished.
In front of him, two injured market guards were being treated by the family's private medics.
"What is this?" Rudi asked sharply.
The head market officer, dressed in black with a Norvalien crest on his collar, stepped forward and whispered the explanation.
"A minor incident, Young Master. Two of my men were attacked… by two teenagers."
Rudi raised an eyebrow.
"Teenagers? Who?"
Without a word, the officer showed him CCTV footage from the market. Clear as day: Al, in a black hoodie, flooring two adult security guards like they were flies.
Rudi froze.
"…Al? again?" he muttered.
"Wait… I thought he couldn't fight? Yesterday he was just a plaything for that girl."
His eyes narrowed. There was both anger and curiosity.
"That damned fly!" he spat.
Soon after, Rudi entered his father's large study, the room heavy with the smell of cigars and family business papers.
"Dad. I know who caused the trouble at the market. His name is Al… he's just an orphanage kid."
"Al?" His father spun his large chair to face him.
"Is that the scholarship kid you once mentioned?"
"Yes, Dad." Rudi nodded.
His father fell silent for a moment. He glanced at a file he had just received — a document about the family's fish product distribution.
"You seem excited. Do you intend to execute that kid?" his father asked.
"Of course, Dad." Rudi answered with a firm nod. "If he hadn't been protected by that foundation, I would've crushed him long ago. Now we finally have a reason to execute him."
"You say that, yet you still sent thugs to beat him. Our family almost had trouble with that foundation tied to Alasia Group." his father replied.
"Dad. You know I only asked them to harass the orphanage kid. They took the initiative to go further and even mentioned our family's name. If something had happened to that kid back then, huge trouble would've come to us." Rudi said.
His father nodded.
"Fortunately someone handled those stupid thugs. Whoever it was, I suppose I should thank them." Rudi continued, unaware that the person he wanted to thank was actually Al himself.
"So how do you propose we execute him now? Even though we have a reason, isn't it still risky? What if Alasia insists on taking care of their ward?" his father prodded, sharpening his son's problem-solving.
Rudi touched his chin, thinking.
"You're right, Dad. In the end we can't be too direct. Maybe we can strike without using our name? At least not as clumsy as those thugs." Rudi mulled for a solution.
His father smiled and chuckled softly.
"Haha. You really are my son." He praised, a hint of pride at how quickly Rudi found an angle. "In that case, I think I know someone who can do it."
"Really, Dad?" Rudi asked, enthusiastic.
His father nodded. He picked up a scrap of paper with a name and address written on it and pushed it to Rudi.
"Go see this man. Tell him to handle the orphanage kid. But make sure no one finds out — it would be damaging to our family's image. This man is an expert at making people 'disappear' without a trace."
Rudi took the paper and read the name: Daraka.
"Who is he, Dad? Can he be trusted?"
His father nodded again.
"He's a shaman popular among the elite. Reliable and utterly dependable. From what I hear, if the price is right, there's nothing he can't do."
"Price is right?"
"You'll find out there. Go before other clients beat you to him. He must have thousands of clients."
Rudi nodded and offered a thin smile.
"Alright, Dad. I'll handle it." He left with a cheerful gait, like a kid thrilled to be given candy.
After Rudi left, his father looked at a family photo of three people — Indra and his parents.
"An orphan and this family. Hmph… you're useful under me, but you're too bold to oppose us. Prepare yourselves to suffer the consequences." he murmured calmly.
---