May had arrived.
Across the nation, the atmosphere was growing tense.
At the end of this month, the National Final Examination would be held simultaneously for all final-year students—whether in Elementary School, Middle School, or High School.
The Virellano residence was busier than usual that evening.
Among the bustle, Clarista—the fourth daughter of the Virellano family—had just returned from abroad.
Her purpose was clear: to become the private tutor for David, who was now in his final year at Makazhar Elite School, the second-best high school in Eastern Indorosia.
In the living room, the atmosphere was warm.
Edward sat with a tablet in hand, occasionally glancing at a digital newspaper. Sandra, as always, maintained control over the household with her calm smile.
Between them, David was absorbed in studying his worksheet modules.
Al? He had just arrived, summoned by his father through their butler, Harun. He sat not far away, isolating himself like a shadow among the light.
Even so, his posture remained relaxed—leaning slightly back against the chair, one leg crossed casually over the other.
After all, this was the seat that should have belonged to him from the very beginning.
His expression carried a faint trace of boredom, as though he already knew what awaited him.
If it wasn't going to be another needless family drama, then it would probably be some unreasonable argument tossed my way.
"You're in your final year too, right? How's your exam prep?" Edward asked.
"Everything's fine, Father. I'm in top condition, hehe."
"Al, how are your grades at school?" Sandra asked casually as she poured tea, genuinely curious about her son's academic performance.
Al replied without looking at her.
"Just average, Mother. Nothing special."
Behind his flat tone, there was a tiny pause—too brief to be called hesitation, yet long enough to hint that he was hiding something.
Everyone nodded. Nothing surprising. It was as if that answer was meant to be a part of Al's life narrative—a norm that was accepted without argument.
But amid that calm, something hung in the air.
Sandra stared into her teacup a little longer, as if searching for an answer at the bottom of the gently swirling tea. Edward slowly lowered his tablet but decided not to say anything.
For some reason, in that brief silence, a faint guilt rose in both their chests—a feeling that they knew far too little about their own son.
Meanwhile, David, who was studying a learning module prepared by Clarista, mumbled softly,
"They said during the last mock exam, the top scorer at HIHS was someone named... Al. Could it be?"
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. All eyes shifted—to Al.
Yet the young man continued staring blankly at the TV, which was playing one of Sandra's favorite Koreran dramas. His eyes darted aimlessly, avoiding anyone's gaze.
The air in the room seemed to turn cold. Not because of the wind, but because of the pressing silence. Al briefly held his breath, trying to keep his heartbeat steady.
This liar brat sure knows a lot. News travels fast, huh. Should I admit it? Hmm... no, no. My instincts say I should stay quiet. Besides... my current mission's going smoothly. I can't afford any risks, Al thought.
"Hm... That doesn't sound likely," Edward murmured skeptically.
He glanced at Al for a moment, but the boy only turned his gaze away. That alone convinced him. He returned to his tablet soon after.
Behind his logical demeanor, Edward felt a bitter twinge.
Something inside him wanted to believe it was possible, but his pride refused.
David frowned, slightly annoyed.
Oh? So the orphan brat doesn't want to use that to boost his image. I even had a few plans ready to knock him down if he confessed. Not bad.
Still... the fact that he got the highest score in Hazandeen International High School somehow irritates me deeply, he thought, gritting his teeth.
He shot Al a sharp look.
Am I worried? Hmph... as if. It's just a mock exam. A tiny achievement like that doesn't matter. But... what if Al ranks top three in the National Exam? No, no. I have to stay confident, he resolved inwardly.
In silence, Clarista glanced briefly at both of them.
She read the whole dynamic like she was analyzing data—Al deliberately quiet, David easily triggered, and their parents caught in confusion between them. In her mind, she noted it all down, expressionless.
Then David spoke again.
"If Brother Al really did get the highest score, that's impressive," David said, half-challenging, trying to maintain a good impression instead of showing the irritation boiling inside him.
Clarista, who sat beside him, also joined the conversation.
"But what's the point of a mock exam if your final score ends up being bad?" Clarista added flatly, her tone sharp yet unshaken.
"Besides, I doubt it was him anyway. How could someone who usually lazes around all day suddenly score that high, especially in a school like HIHS?"
Her tone sounded flat, yet there was a faint tremor at the end of it—whether sarcasm, discomfort at seeing Al get attention, or simply her habitual cynicism slipping out unconsciously.
"You have a point," Sandra remarked with a nod.
Edward silently agreed as well.
Even Al, who sat quietly beside them, ended up nodding—though no one could tell whether he genuinely agreed or if he was simply indifferent.
"I agree with that," he said.
Edward closed his tablet, then spoke to Al.
"Wether that's you or not, you should improve your academic performance, Al, if you really can," Edward replied. "And tone down your laziness a bit."
"It's been quite a while since you've been here, and your progress hasn't been that significant. Even though the bet you made is still far from due, I hope you start improving soon. It's exhausting to keep holding back your status from being made public. I truly hope you get better—faster," he added.
Edward's words were meant as encouragement, but there was a touch of skepticism there too—as if he was half-motivating, half-reminding Al of his still-uncertain position in the family.
Al froze for a brief moment, startled. This was the first time Edward had directly mentioned his status after such a long silence.
He responded with a slight nod and a faint smile.
"Ever since Sis Sarah's been away, I almost forgot I'm still being assessed in this family. Anyway... alright, Father," he said lightly.
Guess this means things are actually moving in a positive direction for me here. At least everything's within the safe zone, he thought.
Meanwhile, David felt a pang of irritation at those words. There wasn't even a hint of comfort in his expression.
I can't even imagine this kid becoming a part of this family! Don't expect me to sit back and watch, he thought bitterly.
His jaw tightened, his brow furrowed. Yet in the very next second, he masked those emotions, forcing his face back into the harmless expression of an ordinary seventeen-year-old boy.
Before the silence lingered too long, Sandra gently shifted the subject.
"Al, what do you think if I arrange a tutor for you as well? Clarista might have plenty of acquaintances who could help."
Al looked at him, putting on a weird expression.
"Mother! Unlike that liar, Sister Clarista, who's busy overseas, still came home just to tutor him—yet I'm only being offered another tutor?" he said dramatically.
Sandra froze at that line.
"Al, that's not what I meant. Don't tell me you also want Clarista to teach you?" she asked.
Clarista glanced at Sandra, her face slightly sour, as if mildly displeased by that statement—but she chose to stay silent.
Meanwhile, Al chuckled lightly.
"Don't take it so seriously, Mother. I just thought you were teasing that liar. And it was kind of funny actually, hehe," he said.
"Al, stop calling David a liar. He's your brother. And... what do you mean I was teasing David?" Sandra asked, sounding slightly annoyed.
Al looked up at the ceiling briefly, then turned to face his family.
"Mother, you said you'd find me another tutor, while the lia—mm, I mean David—is being taught directly by Sis Clarista. And of course, you must know that Sis Clarista is the best tutor available around here. That means…" he said with a smile,
"…you're basically saying David's dumber than me. Cause he needs a better tutor. Haha."
That line? Enough to make David grit his teeth. But, as usual, his well-practiced innocent act kept him in check.
Tension and disbelief spread across everyone's faces.
Sandra rubbed her forehead.
"Al, I'd never think that way," she said softly, trying to defend herself.
Edward looked slightly irritated.
"Al, no one thinks like that. We just want the best for you and David," he said.
"Haha, look at you all getting so serious. I was just joking. I get it—I get it, this just means David's so smart that only Sis Clarista can handle teaching him, right? And really, that's how it should be. David deserves the best," Al said with a teasing grin.
"Al, you're starting again," Edward sighed.
Al shook his head lightly.
"Yeah, yeah," he replied casually.
"By the way, I don't think I need a tutor, Father, Mother," he added politely but firmly. "I can still study on my own."
And somehow, everyone seemed relieved at that, though Sandra still tried to insist gently, hoping to persuade him—especially after Al's subtle jab, which had left her feeling uneasy.
Al considered her goodwill carefully.
It's not that I don't want to, but... having a tutor would just block a lot of my activities. That'd be troublesome, he thought.
He politely declined for the second time.
And with that, Sandra could only give in.
"Alright then... if that's what you want."
Al nodded, seeing that the conversation had ended. No one else said a word—David was glaring at him, Edward and Sandra looked puzzled, and the rest were quietly minding their own business.
"If that's all, I'll return to my room. I want to self-study for a bit, at least to reach the top score," he said calmly.
Al rose from his seat, offering a small bow out of respect, then walked slowly toward the exit of the living room.
Sandra's eyes lingered on her son's retreating back.
A faint yearning stirred within her—a desire to spend a little more time in this rare, somewhat harmonious atmosphere with Al, her youngest child who had been lost to her for so many years.
Yet the awkwardness in the expressions of the others convinced her otherwise. For now, perhaps it was better to let him go.
So that's what all this fuss was about—the national exam? Not exactly something worth worrying over. Al thought.
Unfortunately, all I could do was refuse Mother's kind offer about the tutor. Cause even with my integration mission here, I should still prioritize my life in the shadows. Living a bit freely suits my current situation better, .
Once in his small room, Al quietly dropped onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling for a while before reaching for his old phone on the table.
Hundreds of unread messages—special groups, random notifications, and a few personal ones. Some made him smirk faintly, amused at how people spoke to him like they actually knew him.
But one message made his eyebrows twitch slightly.
"You have to be this year's national top scorer, okay?" Sent by someone who mattered to him.
Al stared at the screen blankly, then put it down.
"That poisonous witch is very persistent."
He replied to none of the messages. Instead, he whispered to himself, almost like a murmur.
"...Being at the top just doesn't suit me."
It wasn't rejection. More like quiet resignation. As if scores, praise, or targets were illusions that no longer reached his heart.
Things unfit for someone like him who preferred laziness and finding the least troublesome path.
Out of boredom, he opened his favorite social media app. An app he usually ignored now caught his attention. Various viral news items filled the trending tab:
Ghost Sightings Across Makazhar!
He scrolled through post after post. Most were low-quality videos with exaggerated screaming.
But one stood out—it was footage taken at Lorari Beach, one of Makazhar's top tourist spots.
Unlike the others, this video was recorded with a decent camera. No edits. No music overlays.
Just a quiet beach, the sound of ocean wind, and... a faint silhouette standing still in the middle of the receding sea. No sound. No movement.
Al watched intently, analyzing the video carefully. His gaze sharpened.
After replaying the video several times, he sent the link to someone via message.
Not long after, a reply came:
"The video's real, Big Brother."
Al smiled, then stood up. He had made up his mind.
He was going to Lorari Beach. Alone.
He put on his uniform in one smooth motion.
Elemental Magic – Dark Type : Shadow Blend
His body merged with the shadows. And he vanished into the night.
---
Tonight was Monday.
The sea breeze of Makazhar blew gently, brushing against empty buildings once lit up by tourists. But tonight... everything was different.
Al stood atop a large hotel, facing directly toward Lorari Beach—the main tourist beach that had since become deserted for nighttime visits after the viral sighting.
Only the sound of crashing waves echoed in the distance, blending with the damp, cold sea breeze.
"Let's observe first..." Al whispered inwardly, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the aura in his surroundings. He activated his spiritual vision:
Dimensional Eye: Activated
His sight shifted. All unseen aspects of reality became visible to him through this ability.
Two hours passed.
The clock struck just after midnight. A new day had begun. Yet nothing changed. Just the ripple of the waves and a few weak spiritual signals flitting by like night mosquitoes. Harmless.
"Boring," Al muttered under his breath. He drew in a long, weary breath. "I can't keep using these eyes for too long. The side effects from that day with Eva are still giving me trouble."
With that, Al deactivated his dimensional eye. The aftermath of that incident still lingered heavily on him.
Prolonged use made his sight blur ever so slightly, his head throbbed with a dull ache, and an uncomfortable pulsation stabbed at his eyeballs, as if countless needles were pricking into them.
His eyes had yet to fully recover.
All he could do was let out a resigned sigh, raising a hand to rub at his eyes in a slow, tired motion.
But then—his magical instincts twitched. A subtle yet rhythmic energy pattern surged, shaking his spiritual awareness.
A group of people had appeared at the beach's edge. They wore black robes and carried ritual tools: incense, offerings, carving knives, black cloths, and glass bottles filled with cloudy red liquid.
Shamans, Al thought.
They're going to perform a ritual? Exorcism? Or maybe... something worse.
He observed from above. One among them radiated an aura that felt... familiar. Something that tugged at his memory, but not clearly enough to recall.
---