They were vampires—calling him like some kind of dog. In the middle of them sat a boy with a regal posture, clearly the spoiled grandson of Biltus, his arrogance displayed like a crown.
"Hey, new kid," said a slim boy with large round glasses.
"Hi," Arvard replied coolly, his eyes narrowed.
Alfred, the great-grandson of Biltus, stared silently at Arvard, his expression blank +but his gaze sharp.
"What's your name?" the same boy asked.
"Albert," Arvard replied flatly.
"Well, here's the thing," Alfred spoke politely, though his words held weight, "we don't care who you are. Just stop flirting with our girls on your first day."
"Who are we talking about exactly?" Arvard asked, genuinely puzzled.
The boys behind Alfred stood up one by one, listing names like an accusation.
"First, Mai. Second, Emily. Third, Ms. Saina. Fourth, Clara. Fifth, Alissa."
Arvard's mind ticked. So… he's into Elena too, huh.
"I don't even know who Clara is," Arvard replied.
"That's better," muttered the fourth boy, a stocky one with a round face.
"Was that all?" Arvard asked sarcastically, his eyes sharp.
Alfred stepped closer, his yellow cat-like eyes glowing—an echo of Biltus.
"Is that clear enough for you?" he said, trying to intimidate.
Arvard smiled. "I wasn't hitting on anyone. We were just talking. And I don't see why I should turn my back on a new friend."
"I'm Alfred Koneal," Alfred said proudly, "great-grandson of Biltus Koneal, head of the Ten Families."
"So?" Arvard shot back.
The group murmured—did he really just say that?
Only the boy with the bangs seemed amused, grinning at Arvard's boldness.
Alfred's composure broke. "If you ever look at Sasha again, I'll kill you!" he shouted, launching a punch.
But the punch never landed.
To everyone's shock—including Alfred's—Arvard caught it effortlessly with his left hand.
"Oh, so Sasha too," Arvard said, smirking. "Good to know."
He tightened his grip, making Alfred wince, then slowly let go.
"Don't ever call me for something this stupid again," Arvard said and walked away, calm as a king returning to his throne.
He glanced at his watch. "Still 15 minutes of break left," he muttered.
Suddenly, his black ring with the orange gem began to glow.
"I know," he whispered to it.
His phone rang—an unknown number.
He leaned against the wall and answered, "Hello?"
"It's me," came a familiar voice. "You didn't save my number, did you?"
"Saina," Arvard sighed. "Sorry."
"Tired?" she asked gently.
He rubbed his forehead. "My head's killing me. Biltus's grandson just threatened me."
"What did he say?" she asked, laughing lightly.
"I'll tell you later."
There was a pause.
"You don't sound okay, Arvard. What's wrong?" she asked in a concerned tone.
"I'm fine. Just let me…" His voice trailed off as he hung up and closed his eyes.
A second passed. He opened them again, stretched, and started walking.
He called Saina back.
"Arvard? Where are you?" she asked, worried.
"No need to come. I'm heading to my room. Tell the others I'm not feeling well or something. Bye."
He hung up before she could answer.
The black ring on his finger glowed brighter with each step.
"Calm down," he whispered.
Nine minutes later, he arrived at the Boys' Dorm, a seaside building larger than the Girls' Dorm. Both looked like high-end hotels, perched beside a wooden staircase leading to the beach.
He entered through the glass door.
To the right were mail lockers for the boys. Straight ahead was a reception desk, where three uniformed dorm staff stood.
One of them, a tall man with deep skin, bowed politely.
"How can I help you?"
"My name's Albert," Arvard said. "I was told I could collect my room key here."
The man retrieved a keycard. "Room 6, sixth floor."
"Thanks." Arvard took the key and headed to the lift.
In seconds, he reached the sixth floor. A small lounge awaited—couches, a glass table with a floral centerpiece, and a room directory on the wall.
Ignoring the decor, Arvard turned right and found his room. He swiped the card, stepped inside, and shut the door with a satisfying slam.
The room was spacious—a living area with sofas, a kitchenette, a cozy dining table, and a bedroom with a large bed, desk, closet, and attached bathroom.
On the bed lay the familiar wooden box that held his rings. His clothes were already neatly hung in the closet.
"Biltus always overdoes things," Arvard muttered. He removed the rosary from his neck. As he did, its crimson gem dulled.
Suddenly, a flash of bright light erupted from his room.
After some time, Saina came to check on Arvrad
"It's been over an hour," Saina muttered, walking toward Arvard's room. But as she reached for the door, a strange noise made her pull her hand back.
With an annoyed face, she turned away. "Nothing happened to that jerk."
she sat on the lounge couch, scrolling through her phone.
Around an hour later, she stormed toward his room.
"He has to be finished now!"
But again—whispers, and then silence.
This time, the door was unlocked.
She stepped inside, surprised. Careless idiot, she thought.
She moved through the quiet living room. The bedroom door was closed.
She knocked.
"You can enter, Saina," came Arvard's voice.
She opened it slowly.
Inside, Arvard was buttoning his shirt. Scars ran across his chest and waist. Her eyes lingered.
Then—
"Hey, Saina. We meet again," said a soft, playful voice.
She turned sharply.
Sitting on the bed was a naked girl with long orange hair, wrapped in a thin white sheet.
"Care to explain?" Saina said, glaring at Arvard.
Arvard smiled innocently. "Guess I had some… hormonal imbalance after sleeping too long."
"You were trapped in a ring for a thousand years," Saina snapped. "Inside a coffin."
"Actually," the orange-haired girl said, smiling sweetly, "I spent that thousand years in Arvard's dream world. I doubt he remembers most of it."
"In a dream?" Saina repeated.
"But it never felt like one… It was a world just for us—where we lived like gods," the girl said wistfully.
"Lucky," Saina whispered.
"Saina," Arvard cut in harshly, "don't forget."
"I know," she said quietly. "But… why her?"
"You know I don't like that kind of talk."
He approached the girl gently, petting her head. "Want to stay like this or return to the sea? I'll bring you back whenever."
"I just want to be with you," she said like a child.
"I'm heading to class," Arvard said. Before he finished, the girl shimmered into light and returned to the ring, forming its orange gem.
"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" Saina asked sarcastically.
"Nah. I'm good." Arvard slipped on his blazer.
"You can go. I have things to do."
Saina hugged him suddenly. "Bad boy… keeping secrets. I should punish you."
Arvard smiled. "Tomorrow's Sunday. How about we hang out?"
"Really?" she asked, lighting up.
He just smiled with closed eyes, and she took it as a yes.
She left, humming.
Once alone, Arvard's smile vanished.
He locked the door, closed the curtains, and stood in the center of the room.
He snapped his fingers. His hair turned silver—his true form.
Biting his finger, he let the blood fall.
As it hit the ground, a glowing purple magic circle appeared—then vanished. A vortex opened. Rotten, glowing spirits with bones and decayed robes emerged.
They knelt before him.
"Kit Slutinyahier," he said. (Stand, Slutinyahier.)
The center creature rose.
"Aho mi radier Slutin… Hilgya nu sikalkiQ ahoheruin… Pu tartikgau ahoalki full me jinkulharahoatiou.
(I give you a duty… Guard this room in my absence. If someone enters, don't attack—just report.)"
The creature bowed and resumed his kneeling position.
"Kit Laondieheart. Kit Gretiarhaprul. Kit Regerdhilmert."
(Stand… Stand… Stand.)
The three others rose.
"Hagium nu sikTAbu… HAgier nu akerdarpulan di bur… Bur gi 14 dinayunah.
(Wander this island. If anything unusual happens, report to me daily. You have 14 days.)"
They nodded and knelt again.
"Kit Milan Poreak."
The last stood.
"Aho Miradier Poreak… Ahi nu haj ahoitansahierlul.
(Your duty is to carry my items.)"
Arvard fetched the wooden box.
"Gin Ring of God of Knowledge."
Milan summoned the box magically and carried it into the vortex.
Before disappearing, he returned with a white ring set with a brown gem.
It landed in Arvard's palm.
"Chiner." (Perfect.)
All the spirits vanished. Only Milan remained, slowly retreating into the vortex.
The room went quiet once more.