Aslan was headed to class, hands tucked in his pockets, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
"Finally…" "My dream came true — becoming a bully."
He chuckled to himself.
---
Inside the classroom, teachers were handing out test results. Papers shuffled, numbers echoed.
"75…"
"78…"
"82…"
Most students had scored above 60.
Then the teacher called out:
"Cael — 93 marks."
A silver-haired boy with sharp silver eyes stood up. He took his paper with a slight scowl, glanced at it briefly, then sat down—visibly annoyed, or maybe just unimpressed.
Then—
"Aslan — 35 marks."
Heads turned.
At the second-last bench, Aslan was leaning back with his hands folded behind his head, legs stretched out.
Totally chill.
Two nearby students whispered to each other.
"Why does he look so relaxed?"
"He barely passed!"
"What's he so proud of?"
Aslan, still drifting in his thoughts, smirked lazily.
"This feeling… when someone acts strong but is actually weak…"
"And yet, everyone fears him?"
"Just like those classic high school bullies from movies."
---
From the front, Cael glanced back. His eyes narrowed.
"So this is Aslan... the guy everyone's been talking about."
---
Earlier that same day…
A crowd had gathered near the dormitory corridor.
"Oi, fresher! Where do you think you're going?" sneered a group of senior boys, blocking Cael's path.
Seconds later, those same boys were flat on the floor—groaning in pain.
Cael dusted off his sleeves casually and walked forward.
But again—another group of bullies showed up.
And again—they were beaten down.
It happened over and over.
Eventually, Cael knelt beside one of the collapsed bullies, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and lifted his head.
"If you're this weak… then why try to bully someone stronger than you?"
The boy wheezed, then stammered out a reply:
"Because… our boss told us to! He said… real bullies only go after the strong. What's the fun in picking on the weak?"
Cael's expression darkened.
"Your boss, huh?"
"Who is he?"
The boy's eyes lit up—not with fear, but with excitement.
"Our boss is insanely strong! You can't even touch him!"
Then, with pure admiration, he added:
"His blazing red hair… those bloody red eyes… and that killer personality!"
Cael slowly stood up, his gaze sharpening.
His thoughts whispered:
"Red hair. Bloody red eyes. A killer personality..."
Back to the present…
In the classroom, Cael glared at Aslan from across the room, jaw clenched.
"So it's him…"
"The reason I've been stuck in chaos since morning…"
Aslan, oblivious, yawned again—like he was still trying to chase the sun away with boredom.