The rain fell in a cold, relentless drizzle, mirroring the bleakness of the day. Spring's first hesitant blooms fought for life, but their sweet fragrance was lost—replaced by the metallic tang of fear and the stifling stench of worn-out shoes pressed against my face.
I was bruised. The world was a blur of looming shadows and crushing weight. My nose, a crimson fountain, was the only sensation in a world reduced to pain and suffocation.
The world had become a maze of taunts and jeers. The echoes of "orphan" and "teacher's pet" stung with every passing day. They saw me as arrogant—someone clinging to illusions of superiority, blind to the darkness coiling around me. Each whispered insult, each cruel laugh, chipped away at the walls I'd built, leaving me raw. Exposed.
At the center of it all stood a figure of chilling indifference, a king among jackals. His dark hair, like midnight, framed eyes of fathomless blue—eyes untouched by sunlight, cold and impenetrable like the ocean's deepest trench. He was a monument of apathy, unmoved by the suffering beneath him. The others were a pack, a gang, acting as his loyal guard. And he—the untouchable—was their heart.
He was the son of X Company's CEO, the titan who practically owned the school grounds beneath our feet. With that kind of power, he walked the halls like a king. Skipping class was just a game. Rules were for the weak. Teachers? Mere obstacles in his path. Some even whispered a name behind closed doors: King Liam.
Liam sat, and I recognized the familiar tilt of his head, the slight downturn of his lips—a sneer carved from habit. His gaze bore down on me, unspoken mockery in his eyes, a familiar weight pressing on my chest. But all I felt was bone-deep weariness.
The fight had drained out of me. The anger. The humiliation. The desperate urge to strike back. All of it replaced by something heavier. His words, his stare—just background noise now. A loop in the endless, exhausting soundtrack of my life.
I was tired. So, so tired.
I longed for the day to end. For the solitude of my room. For sleep to carry me far away from this place.
I wanted to disappear. To rewind time. To escape this endless cycle of feeling less than. But all I could do was walk. Each step a burden. Each breath a reminder of how much this hurt.
As I headed toward class, my sigh echoed in the sterile hallway. Liam's gaze lingered, a phantom weight on my shoulders—but the ache was no longer anger. Not even shame. Just resignation. Another day, another unwinnable game.
I knew how this worked. Power always won.
And Liam… he had it all.
Effortless arrogance. Legacy. Untouchable wealth. The world bent for him. He could do anything, say anything—and nothing would ever touch him.
The unfairness of it all washed over me like a tide. But what was the point of resisting? I was just a pawn in his endless performance.
So I walked. Head down. Enduring.
The hallway stretched before me, white and gray. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like insects.
A laugh—dry and humorless—escaped me. Of course Liam could do whatever he wanted. He always did.
Speed, strength, stamina—child's play.
Even his mana and magic? Top of the country.
And the golden spoon? It had been planted in his mouth since birth.
He was untouchable.
The final bell rang like a death knell. I dragged myself toward the only place that mattered: home.
To her. My sister. My only family.
The world called me weak. Powerless.
"No mana."
"No magic."
Just a boy.
Easy to push around.
But they didn't know the truth.
I could alter the future.
I could change outcomes. Shift probability. Twist events like threads between my fingers.
It was a secret I buried deep.
Because if the wrong people ever found out… what would they do?
What would they do to her?
We were alone in this world. Just the two of us. And her safety was everything.
I'd seen the threats. The bruises. The pain. And each time, I stepped in—quietly, secretly—bending the world to protect her.
No one would ever touch her. Not while I breathed.
Every use of my power drained me. Left me weaker. Like slicing pieces of myself away to build a wall around her.
But I would do it again. And again.
Maybe it wasn't a curse.
Maybe it was a strange kind of luck—for someone like me, born without status, without family, just barely surviving.
The world outside blurred as I walked. My mind was already home.
Letisha.
Her laughter.
The way her eyes crinkled when she smiled.
Just the memory of her erased the day's grime.
Yes, I was a doting brother. And nothing would change that.
The nights spent working at the factory. The exhaustion clinging to my bones. None of it mattered when I saw her happy.
She was my treasure.
My reason.
My everything.
That night, we ate together. Laughed. Talked. A moment of peace.
But after dinner, I left for the night shift.
The factory job was all we had. Our only income.
As I stepped out into the cool night air, something shifted. A strange unease crept into my chest.
I didn't know it yet, but this day would change everything.
The street was dimly lit. Quiet.
Then a sleek, black car slid to a stop in front of me.
The doors opened.
Men stepped out. Silent. Faces hidden in shadow. They surrounded me without a word.
My heartbeat spiked.
I stood frozen.
One man approached—slow, deliberate.
The air around him changed. He moved like he owned the dark.
As he stepped into the light, I saw his face. Carved. Sharp. Stone-like.
His eyes locked onto mine.
A cold smile curled his lips.
His voice came low. Raspy.
"We've been expecting you, Sir Noa."
And the world tilted.