Vincent sat in silence for a few seconds. Temptation gnawed at him, urging him to do otherwise, but what would become of him then?
Now that he had this kind of power—now that he could change his fate permanently—he had to be careful. Intentional. He couldn't afford to fall away from his moral standards.
With unwavering resolve, he held onto the values instilled in him by his grandparents. He wouldn't keep the rest of the money for himself.
He grabbed his cross bag and slung it over his torso as its name implied. A brand-new pair of shoes rested on his feet, ready for school. The only thing missing was his uniform, but that would be ready today.
Even in a tracksuit, Vincent was astonishingly dashing.
Everything unremarkable about him suddenly gleamed with an unearthly brilliance.
He was like a lowercase god, sculpted into a lean marble statue—an embodiment of divine beauty clad in dilapidated attire.
The tracksuit was lit.
His gaze swept across his room one last time. Everything was in its place—books stacked neatly on the table, clothes folded in his bag, dishes washed, and the fragrant whisper of flowers lingering in the air.
Vincent always loved returning to a clean house after school.
Besides, with what he had planned for today…
"Let's just hope I come home first."
If he didn't get kidnapped and beaten to near death for what he was about to do, that is.
Still, what will be, will be. He wouldn't cower before a bunch of overgrown high schoolers.
With purposeful strides, Vincent set off for school.
—
This morning, like every other, vibrant and colorful faces flooded the streets, reflecting the brilliant gaze of the star of the day.
Like a swarm of ants, students crawled through the school gates.
Some arrived in luxury cars, stepping out with majestic ease, flaunting their existence as if the world owed them admiration.
Just like yesterday, eyes licked at Vincent, whispers coiling around him like restless phantoms.
He ignored them.
If there was anything Vincent had learned about Mereung, it was this—they never stopped.
These were the pampered heirs of the elite, children who found their fun and purpose in gossip. Sometimes, Vincent questioned if they even cared about education or were simply here to save their parents' reputations.
He held onto that notion for a while.
But then came his first exam results.
The moment he saw the scores, that belief shattered like glass.
One of his classmates—a ridiculously wealthy heir—never listened to lectures, slept through every class, and yet, he ranked first.
Vincent had been outraged. At first, he thought the boy had bribed the school.
But if bribing the school were that easy, Vincent wouldn't even be second—he'd be dead last.
No, he had to face the truth. This lazy bastard was a genius, and if Vincent wanted to surpass him, he had to embrace that reality.
'One day, I'll beat him.'
Settling into his seat at the back, Vincent's gaze locked onto his self-proclaimed rival as he dragged himself into the classroom.
His briefcase-like bag slumped over his shoulder, white hair ruffled into a messy storm, and his sleepy eyes drooped halfway shut.
Like clockwork, the boy dropped his bag, slumped into his seat, and rested his head on the desk.
That was it.
That was all he ever did.
Even during lunch breaks, even when teachers spoke, even when the world spun around him—he remained in that half-dead state.
No one dared to wake him.
Well, except their homeroom teacher.
Miss Victoria was fearless and unshaken by privilege—one of the many reasons Vincent respected her.
His round friend strolled in through the back door, plopped down beside him, and immediately leaned in.
"Besto friendo, how are you today?"
Vincent shot him an irritated look.
Still, the fatty grinned. He was impervious. Unyielding. Like a cockroach that refused to die.
No matter how often Vincent scowled or ignored him, the guy always came back.
And it was exhausting.
"So, I was investigating," the boy adjusted his glasses dramatically, adopting the 'legendary detective who just cracked an uncrackable case' expression.
"After carefully piecing together the hidden clues, I have reached a conclusion."
He paused—adding unnecessary tension to whatever nonsense he was about to spew.
Then, he leaned closer, whispering:
"You've awakened superpowers, haven't you?"
Vincent sighed, shaking his head. He was about to look away when something clicked.
His expression froze.
Then shifted.
His eyes turned sharp, scrutinizing Levi with an unnerving intensity.
Even the fatty flinched, momentarily unsettled.
Vincent's smile was too wide—too pretty—yet it sent a shiver down Levi's spine.
"So, fatty… ugh, sorry, what's your name again?"
Levi blinked, utterly baffled.
Vincent had never addressed him like this before.
'Has my persistence finally paid off?'
"Levi. My name is Levi Lee."
'How the hell does a guy like him have such a cool name?' Vincent thought.
"Well then, Levi…"
'Oh my God, he said my name again!'
Oblivious to Levi's internal meltdown, Vincent continued:
"I need you to do something for me."
Levi nodded furiously, his eyes locked onto Vincent's with stalwart determination.
"Can you gather all the bullied kids in our grade? I want them to stay after school—I have a surprise for them."
Levi's brows knitted together in concern.
"That's a strange request. And after school is when the bullies are most active. Most of these guys run home to avoid getting caught."
That was true. Even Vincent himself had done the same back then.
He placed a hand beneath his chin, thinking.
"But I have an idea," Levi said.
Vincent looked at him. "And what's that?"
"We assemble them in the name of fear."
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
"You know how I'm always sent to fetch them? Sometimes, I intentionally stall, letting them escape. Of course, Roger beats the hell out of me for it."
He smirked.
"But if I want to round them all up before they run, I know how."
He leaned in, his glasses reflecting the classroom light.
"I just have to go earlier. When they hear Roger or Ferdinand's name, they'll be too scared to run home. They'll follow me instead."
Vincent leaned back, considering his words.
'Is this really necessary?'
All he wanted to do was share some money. Maybe give them a few words of encouragement.
But hearing Levi speak, something shifted in him.
He felt inclined to protect them.
Because he had been them once.
Levi hesitated before whispering:
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
A quiet weight settled in Vincent's chest.
His heart skipped a beat.
Then, he gritted his teeth and answered:
"At some point, we must cast away fear and take a bold step—one that changes our lives forever."
His eyes burned.
'I won't be a weakling anymore. If I have to walk in hell, then I'll walk like I own the damn place.'