Hiroshi's life at Drakmaris Academy was anything but ordinary. Every day felt like an exercise in balancing expectations—those of his family, his peers, and the ever-watchful society around him. As the heir to the Von Drakrion family, his mere presence carried an aura of authority. And with his striking looks, it wasn't long before he became the center of attention, not only for his noble status but also for his unmatched charm.
The Drakmaris Academy, with its sprawling grounds and towering spires, was home to the future rulers, scholars, and warriors of the kingdom. But to Hiroshi, it felt more like an arena. The students here were as formidable as they were ambitious, each vying for the attention and approval of their elders. Hiroshi, however, had a secret weapon: his face.
It didn't take long for whispers to spread about the handsome young noble with the face of a Greek god. The girls at Drakmaris Academy were enamored by him. At first, Hiroshi had found it all overwhelming—the constant attention, the fluttering glances, the soft, breathy sighs that followed him through the halls. But slowly, he learned to use it. A smile here, a flirtatious wink there. His every word, his every gesture, became a carefully calculated move, as if he were playing a game—a game of power.
"Lord Hiro," a voice called out one afternoon as he left his first-period class. A group of girls, giggling and whispering to each other, were waiting for him outside the lecture hall. Hiroshi knew them by name—they were part of the infamous "Von Drakrion Fan Club," a group of girls who had taken it upon themselves to fawn over him at every turn.
"Would you grace us with your company at the upcoming ball?" one of the girls asked, her eyes sparkling. "We would be honored to have you escort us."
Another girl, her face flushed, added, "Perhaps you'd like to join us for tea afterward? We could have a private conversation about... the future of Drakmaris."
Hiroshi felt the weight of their gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, but he maintained his composure. Smiling, he leaned casually against the wall.
"I'll think about it," he said smoothly, his voice a perfect blend of politeness and mystery. "But I can't make any promises."
The girls exchanged looks of delight, and Hiroshi couldn't help but feel a rush of pride. In this world, power wasn't just about wealth or status. It was about charisma, charm, and the ability to manipulate perception. He was learning quickly.
But Hiroshi wasn't blind to the politics at play. These girls weren't just interested in him because of his looks—they were interested in what he represented: the Von Drakrion name, the vast wealth, and the political influence. His family's fortunes made them the most powerful house in all of Drakmaris. The Duke, Hiroshi's father, held sway over entire territories, and his wealth surpassed that of some kingdoms. Hiroshi was a prize, a means to an end for those who sought to align themselves with the Von Drakrion dynasty.
One of Hiroshi's more serious rivals at the academy was Lady Selene Arkwright. She was brilliant, ambitious, and unafraid to challenge Hiroshi in both the classroom and the social sphere. Her intelligence and her sharp tongue had earned her the respect of both her peers and the faculty. Yet, there was something about Hiroshi that irked her.
"Lord Hiroshi," she said one day during a debate in class, her voice cool and condescending, "it seems you rely too much on your looks to get by. But true greatness is earned through intellect, not appearance."
Hiroshi could feel the challenge in her words, and he wasn't about to back down. He straightened up, meeting her gaze with calm confidence. "True greatness," he said smoothly, "is a combination of many things, Lady Selene. Looks, intellect, and charisma all have their place. But you're right about one thing. It's about earning respect, not demanding it."
Selene's eyes narrowed, clearly impressed with his response. It wasn't what she expected, and that only fueled her interest in Hiroshi even more. She had underestimated him before, but now, she was beginning to see him as more than just a pretty face. There was depth to him, something worth exploring.
In the midst of this social labyrinth, Hiroshi still struggled with his identity. Despite all the praise and attention, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was living a life that wasn't entirely his own. This world, with its rules and expectations, was so different from the one he had known. Here, women wielded the power, and men were expected to be charming, compliant, and supportive—traits that Hiroshi was still learning to master.
One evening, after another demanding day at the academy, Hiroshi found himself in the private gardens of Drakmaris Academy, seeking solace from the endless swirl of social interactions. He wasn't alone, though. To his surprise, Lady Seraphina DeLacroix, the famous actress and most eligible bachelorette in all of Drakmaris, was there, seated on a marble bench, gazing at the stars.
"Lord Hiroshi," she greeted him, her voice smooth and laced with amusement. "I didn't expect to find you here."
Seraphina was a striking woman—her fiery red hair seemed to glow in the dim light of the evening, and her presence radiated an aura of confidence and poise. She was everything Hiroshi admired: self-assured, unapologetically bold, and yet, somehow, enigmatic.
"I needed a break," Hiroshi confessed, settling down beside her. "The academy is... overwhelming at times."
Seraphina laughed softly, the sound like a melody. "I can imagine. Everyone is watching you, Lord Hiroshi. Your name is on everyone's lips. The Von Drakrion legacy, the wealth, the power. You must feel like a fish in a gilded cage."
Hiroshi's eyes widened. "You make it sound as though I'm trapped."
"Isn't that how it feels?" Seraphina asked, her gaze piercing. "Everyone wants a piece of you, and the more you give, the more they want."
Hiroshi felt a moment of clarity. She was right. The more he gave—his time, his charm, his image—the more people expected. And yet, it wasn't about what he wanted; it was about what they wanted from him.
"I don't know who I am in this world," Hiroshi admitted, his voice quiet. "I'm not sure if I'm living my own life or someone else's."
Seraphina looked at him thoughtfully. "That's the game we play here, Hiroshi. Everyone wears a mask. The trick is finding the right mask for yourself."
Her words lingered in his mind long after they parted ways that evening. For the first time since his arrival in this world, Hiroshi wondered if he would ever truly find a place where he didn't feel like a puppet on a string.
As Hiroshi's fame continued to grow, so did the expectations. He was the son of the Duke, heir to the greatest fortune in Drakmaris, and his every move was scrutinized by both his peers and those seeking to align with his family. The women who flocked to him weren't just attracted to his good looks—they were drawn to the power and influence he wielded, whether consciously or subconsciously.
In the end, Hiroshi began to realize that in a world ruled by women, power wasn't just about dominance or force—it was about influence, charm, and the ability to weave connections. And as the heir to the Von Drakrion family, Hiroshi had an abundance of all three.
But with every new admirer, every new fan, Hiroshi wondered: How much of this world was real, and how much of it was just a façade?
End of Chapter 3.